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Still cross-legged on the ground, Roxie glanced up. Sure enough, Joe was glaring at her, stance wide, arms crossed over his broad chest. Classic freaking alpha-hole caveman pose. There was a look in his eyes she couldn’t quite decipher. He didn’t say a thing; he just stared at her. And the longer he stared, the deeper his brow creased.
She refused to look away because she was stupidly stubborn. But his intense eye contact made her nervous. She fought the urge to squirm. There was no way she’d give him the satisfaction, dammit. But she needed something to do with her hands, so she pulled the bag of peas from her jaw, rewrapped it in the towel, and placed it back against her face.
The air left Joe’s lungs in an audible whoosh. He dropped to his knees in front of her, and devastation twisted his face.
She frowned. Why was he so upset? He couldn’t stand her.
Before she could question anything, his large hands cradled her jaw. “Holy Christ, Rox.”
She was stunned. Speechless. And she wasneverspeechless.
She racked her brain for some snippy comeback but drew a blank. It disturbed her. Completely.
Joe spitting nails, she could handle. But Joe with concern in his eyes? She had no clue how to deal with such a thing. It reminded her of a lifetime ago... when they’d been best friends. For the most part, she’d gotten over their implosion, but sometimes the disappointment haunted her.
“I’m sure it’ll be fine.” Brushing his hands away, Roxie awkwardly tried to stand. She flinched when his hands clasped her elbows and guided her up with ease. “Thanks,” she mumbled, heading toward the stairs.
Space. She needed some freaking space.
“Dammit, Rox. Have some damn decency, will you?”
She spun on her heels at his tone, and her eyes narrowed. Judgmental Joe, she could handle. “Excuse me?”
He turned his back to her. “Put some clothes on or something.”
She looked down at herself and flushed. Yeah, she was wearing a tank top and a pair of boy shorts, but seriously? She’d beenasleepfor crying out loud!
She stomped up the stairs, cursing Mr. Holier Than Thou under her breath.
Puritanical jackass bitch.
Slamming her bedroom door, she bit back a howl of frustration.
At least they’d reentered familiar territory. Sniping at each other was what they did best.
* * *
Joe scrubbed his hands over his face, cringing as a door slammed shut upstairs.
When Roxie had moved the bag of peas, he’d gotten his first glimpse of the damage he’d inflicted. The sight of her jaw and cheek—both already black and blue—had plowed into his gut like the baseball bat she’d wielded in defense.
Holy motherfucking shit.
He’d hit her.Her!Roxanne Elizabeth Jameson. The girl he’d known forever. And then he’d almost hit her asecondtime. His stomach rolled. It made him sick to know he’d put those marks on her face. It made him just as sick to think of how his mind had gone straight to the gutter when she’d stood up. All concerns for her safety and well-being? Poof! Gone.
Clearly, Roxie’s “jackass” accusations weren’t that far off.
But the way her long auburn hair had fallen in a tangled mess around her shoulders, skimming the tops of her breasts, which had been nearly visible under the paper-thin tank top... And the way her shorts had displayed the bottoms of her perky ass cheeks when she’d walked toward the stairs...
Holy fucking hell. His mouth had gone dry, and he’d forgotten his own name.
He’d had no choice but to turn away. If he’d continued to stare at her in those criminally small shorts and damn-near-transparent tank top, he’d have said something—like how fucking gorgeous she was—that would have led to disaster.
And she was living here? Oh hell no. That was not possible becausehewas living here. It washisdamn house.
He let out a low growl and scrubbed his hands over his face again.Fuck. He was definitely going to have a chat with his father. And soon. Because living under the same roof as that woman would be a huge mistake. They’d either kill each other or end up in be—
Nope. Don’t eventhinkof going there, buddy.
