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I had fucking good reasons to keep the fuckers we went to high school with in line. There was no way in hell I was going to suffer through any of them bragging about ‘hitting that’ in the locker rooms. They were going to keep their tiny teenage dicks away from Rose or lose them.
I look over at the bar, she’s taking a long time for just two beers.
Pain I am not expecting makes me wince. The darts I am holding in my hand jab into it. Rose is talking to some fucking loser in a red silk shirt. She playfully swats at him with a smile, then pulls her hair to one side of her neck, leaving it exposed. The jackass leans in and says something close to her ear.
I walk past Andy, leaving him to stare at my back as I stalk over to the bar. I have a good mind to grab the asshole from his greasy locks and send him flying against the nearest wall. Fuck, I probably wouldn’t be able to grab a hold of him with the amount of gunk in his hair.
Honey, not vinegar.
I stop on the spot, taking a deep breath in an effort to cool my hot head. I come to the conclusion that it is better to play it smart. I stay within earshot, behind the corner of the bar, with Rose facing the other way.
I will use this to accommodate my plans for the evening — whatever intel I gather I can use against her once we get home. We still have plenty of toys we haven’t broken in yet.
“Wow, coulda fool me. You two seemed really close,” Greaseball McFakeTan tells Rose.
“The guy in the black shirt? Hell no! No, he’s not my boyfriend. He’s just my annoying older brother,” Rose tells him in a tone dripping with aversion. It’s a fucking gut punch. I’m not sure why I am feeling it in my chest. “He’s touchy-feely, is all.” She lays her hand on his to bring her point home.
“I’ll say.” He leans in again as he replies. My heart stops pumping blood, replacing it with bitter, irrational rage. “Not that I’m mad about it. This way, I can buy you that beer.” Rose is taking a sip as he drops his fucking lame pick-up line. The bastard is staring right at her lips.
I have heard enough. I have fucking had enough. I go back to our table, grab Rose’s shit, and leave Andrew with his mouth hanging open. I don’t even say goodbye. I reach the bar in seconds, this time I make fucking sure they see me coming.
“We are leaving,” I announce, leaving absolutely no wiggle room for argument. Rose and lover boy both turn to look at me. He looks intimidated. Fucking right, squirm away Jersey Shore, or I’ll rip that fake fucking diamond earring clear off.
Sister dearest knows better than to try me right now, I shove her coat and purse in her hands and walk out. She better be in the car in five seconds if she doesn’t feel like trekking home in the goddamn snow.
I am already revving the engine when Rose opens the car door. The instant her ass hits the leather, I hit the gas, slamming her back into the seat. She scrambles to get her seatbelt on.
Good idea, buttercup. Buckle the fuck up.
I hate feeling like this. I hate recognizing what this feeling is. Fuck. Seven years, seven fucking years, I managed to dodge this shit. Only to have Rose hit me with it out of the fucking blue. Rejection.
I break the speed limit and run a couple of lights. The redheaded brat next to me doesn’t even flinch. I took her to the racetrack when we were younger, to mess with her, to push her. If she was afraid of my driving then, she made damn sure to keep it under lock and key. Just like she’s doing right now. She doesn’t say a word, neither do I.
We skid up the driveway and jolt to a stop. I am barely aware of pulling up the hand break. I leave the keys in the ignition. If I stay sitting next to her for a second longer…
I punch in the key code, walk in and slam the front door shut behind me. I’m halfway up the stairs when the door opens and slams a second time.
“Wait a goddamn second, Archer. What the fuck is your problem?”
I stop dead in my tracks. “What the fuck is my problem?” I seethe, turning around to face her. “Good. Fucking. Hearing.” Rose’s features let go of her hostility, displaying confusion instead.I let my feet pound on the stairs as I go back down.
“God. I knew it!” Her voice travels across the foyer as she slams my car keys into the round, mahogany table. “I am such an idiot! The second I lower my guard with you, you are back to being the entitled, arrogant, cryptic asshole you’ve always been.” Rose is pissed, but there is a new edge to her voice. Disappointment.
“No, no. I am just ‘your annoying older brother’.” Rose blanches but recovers quickly. She knows exactly what I mean, but doesn’t give me a fucking inch. She holds her ground. “So what? I can spend the whole fucking afternoon making you come, drenching the sheets on your childhood bed, but when a loser gives you the time of day at the bar, I’m back to being your annoying brother? What gives, buttercup?”
“You think I owe you an explanation? That’s fucking rich. After everything you—” She leaves the sentence hanging in the air, finally dropping her eyes to the ground. “It’s just as well,” she relents. “This sick, twisted thing between us had a shelf-life of twenty-four hours. We’re fucking done!” Her words hit me like a slap.
Rose tries to escape to her room. I’m not even thinking, just like before, my hand’s reflexes one-up my brain and grab a hold of her upper arm. Dry, cynical laughter bubbles up in my throat. “I don’t fucking think so, Valentine. I told you, you do not walk away from me.”
“Let. Go. Of. Me.”
I grip her jaw. “I am not fucking done with you!”
She looks me straight in the eye, the fire behind them is still burning, but there is deep hurt there too.
“Why would you do that to me, James?” Rose spits back at me. I have no clue what she means. “Do you realize I grew up thinking I was undesirable? That nobody wanted me?”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
