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Grimm grinnedand held up his cell phone. “I have the map.”
“What do you mean—” Her lips curled. “That’s right. You took a picture of it.” She flung her arms around his waist and hugged him tightly. “I knew I’d picked the right man to be my bodyguard. Not only are you strong and sexy…you’re smart.”
He laughed, his chest swelling with something he hadn’t felt in a long time. Maybe never. “You think I’m sexy?”
She leaned back and stared up at him, her beautiful face and smile shining up at him. “Well, yeah. I mean, look at all these muscles and your mouth.” Dezi chuckled. “I said you were smart, and all you heard was sexy?”
He shrugged. “I’m getting older. It’s nice to know I still attract the opposite sex.” He leaned down and brushed his lips across hers. “You think my mouth is sexy?”
“Mmm.” She nodded and leaned up on her toes. “Definitely. Makes me want to bake something sweet and spicy to put into it.”
He laughed out loud. “I take it you’re of the old school idea that a way to a man’s heart is through his stomach?”
She grinned. “Absolutely.”
He loved when she smiled up at him like she was at that moment. He loved that she’d wrapped her arms around him in her excitement. He loved that she’d popped food into his mouth when she’d only just met him. Hell, he could fall in love with this woman.
That thought sucked the air from his lungs and made his blood run cold.
His smile faded, and he stepped back.
Her arms fell to her sides. “What’s wrong?”
He brought his hand up to cup her cheek. “Just so you know, I’ve never been good at relationships.”
“No?” She leaned her face into his palm and swept her lips across his skin. “Maybe you hadn’t met the right person.”
“I didn’t have good role models to learn from.” He tilted his head toward the door. “We should be going.”
“Just because you didn’t have good role models doesn’t mean you can’t get a relationship right,” she said as she passed him and stepped out onto the porch. “Your role models might have taught you more than you realize.”
“Like how to hit a woman so the bruises don’t show? Or how to break her ribs without leaving a bruise?” He shook his head.
“Your father did that to your mother?” Her brow furrowed.
“And me.” He drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Look, I don’t need your sympathy. It’s just how things were in the house where I grew up.”
“What you learned from your father was how a womanshouldn’tbe treated.” She walked down the steps, waited for him at the bottom and stared straight into his eyes. “Have you ever hit a woman?”
He stood in front of her, frowning. “Never.”
“Have you ever mistreated a woman?” she persisted.
An image flooded his memory of his mother cowering on the floor after his father had punched her in the gut and kicked her when she’d fallen over.
“No,” he said. “I like to think that I would never hit a woman.”
“What makes you think you could?”
“There are studies that prove genetics can determine certain behaviors. Other studies show that children of abuse go on to abuse their loved ones.”
“And you think you have your father’s mean gene, or that because you grew up abused, you’ll abuse your loved ones?” she asked.
“I could,” he said. “I’ve never let myself be with anyone long enough to find out.”
“Wow. What if a woman knew your background but was willing to give you the benefit of the doubt?”
He shook his head. “I couldn’t risk it.”
