Coming Undone
Page 7
Hell, all he could remember of her was the pale hair and the sweetness of her smile. She was probably covered in spots and had buck teeth. He’d had a head injury after all; his memory was most likely faulty.
4
“Go the hell home. You’ve been here nearly twelve hours now.” Raven pointed toward the back door and glared. “You just got hit by a freaking car a few days ago. If Erin or Adrian find out I’ve let you be here this long, I’ll never hear the end of it. Especially from Adrian, who already thinks I’m evil incarnate. Now go.”
He bent and kissed her soundly. She allowed it for a few moments until she gave his bottom lip a hard nip.
“You wound me.”
She laughed. “Now go home, please. You look pale. Do you need me to come over and bring you dinner?”
Raven, the woman he’d once loved until she’d broken his heart, and then he’d come to like her and realized like was better. Safer. She summered in Seattle and worked in his shop, helped him run things when it suited her. Most of Raven’s life was about what suited her, he had realized some years before. At one time it had hurt him deeply, but now he just accepted it as part of who she was.
Still, he knew she cared about him in her own way. And she was right. He had a headache from concentrating on the fine line work in a full sleeve he’d spent hours on that day. His back ached, his eyes were dry. The constant buzz of the needle machines, the scent of the ink, of skin and disinfectant—of his shop—was usually a comfort, but it was getting on his nerves today.
“I’ll get takeout. I’d guess Adrian is still camped in my house anyway.”
Raven laughed. “He’s still refusing to go home?”
“Eating me out of house and home. I’d forgotten how much that lean body could tuck away morning, noon and night. Thank God he can afford his own groceries now. The man has his own freaking palace with a view and he insists on sleeping in one of my spare rooms. I’m fine. I keep telling you all that.”
“If you got in the habit of calling it a guest room instead of Adrian’s room, I might believe you were annoyed by his presence. They want to do for you the way you’ve done for them, time and again. Now stop your pu**y-assed whining and go home.”
Tenderness burst through him and pride as well. His siblings had grown into such exceptional and gifted people. He’d had a part in that and it made him smile, even as they were overprotective and annoying.
“Yeah, yeah. I’m going now. Thanks for holding down the fort while I’ve been out.”
“What out? Puhleeze, Brody. You’ve been here every day but the one where you were hit. Sheesh.” She swatted his ass and he laughed as he left.
He pulled into the driveway, and on his way to the front door, he spotted her. The woman he’d begun to believe he’d dreamed up. She struggled to her front door with an armful of bags, and he found himself sprinting over there, heedless of his aches.
“Hey, let me help you.” Her head snapped up and she paled, stepping back. His smile slipped from his face as he was offended for a moment. Was she shrinking back from him because of the tattoos?
Her smile came then, shy but genuine, and his confusion was replaced by other, more immediate and pleasant feelings. “Oh, you startled me. Brody, right? How are you feeling?” A child came streaking around the corner, hugging a soccer ball to her chest.
“Yep, Brody. Can I help you with those?” He gestured at the bags. He tried not to loom or be scary. He wasn’t looming—well, he was, but it was only due to the fact that she was so small.
After a slight hesitation, she nodded and handed him two while she opened her front door and led him inside.
“Momma, who’s that ginormous guy in our kitchen?”
“Sweet Christ,” the pretty blonde, obviously the mother to the little girl, muttered, and Brody tried not to laugh.
“Irene, this is our neighbor. You remember? Mr. Brown is the man who got hit by the car on Saturday. Also, try to remember your manners.” She turned to Brody. “This is Irene, my daughter.”
Big, deep blue eyes blinked up at him, and her smile showed a gap where she’d lost a tooth on the top. All in all, a pretty cute kid as far as kids went. “Oh, yeah. You didn’t look so huge when you were on the ground. I brought over the first-aid kit and the phone for Momma to call the police.”
He put the bags on the table and grinned down at the miniature version of the larger woman. “Hey there. I’m Brody. Thanks for helping me this weekend.”
“Anytime. Momma says we’re part of a community, and community means you help each other.”
He nodded. This kid reminded him a lot of Erin. Firecracker. He wondered what the mother was like. He looked back to her, she of the very soft voice and the scared rabbit nerves. Thank God those had seemed to calm a bit; her eyes had stopped darting all around, but her small frame still held tension.
As he’d thought of Erin, he also realized he recognized the look on his savior’s face. The fear there wasn’t of him personally. Someone did something to her or she saw something to make her react that way. Anger, unbidden, washed over him a moment at the idea of anyone harming a woman—this woman.
He held his hand out and she took it. Soft skin to go with the voice. Small, fragile even. An urge to protect her washed over him. He tried to bury it. “I wanted to thank you too. Did you tell me your name was Angel?”
She laughed, blushing. “No.” He let go, but his skin felt her touch for long moments more. “You called me angel when you looked up at me. The hair maybe? The sun behind me? You were pretty out of it. I’m Elise.”
4
“Go the hell home. You’ve been here nearly twelve hours now.” Raven pointed toward the back door and glared. “You just got hit by a freaking car a few days ago. If Erin or Adrian find out I’ve let you be here this long, I’ll never hear the end of it. Especially from Adrian, who already thinks I’m evil incarnate. Now go.”
He bent and kissed her soundly. She allowed it for a few moments until she gave his bottom lip a hard nip.
“You wound me.”
She laughed. “Now go home, please. You look pale. Do you need me to come over and bring you dinner?”
Raven, the woman he’d once loved until she’d broken his heart, and then he’d come to like her and realized like was better. Safer. She summered in Seattle and worked in his shop, helped him run things when it suited her. Most of Raven’s life was about what suited her, he had realized some years before. At one time it had hurt him deeply, but now he just accepted it as part of who she was.
Still, he knew she cared about him in her own way. And she was right. He had a headache from concentrating on the fine line work in a full sleeve he’d spent hours on that day. His back ached, his eyes were dry. The constant buzz of the needle machines, the scent of the ink, of skin and disinfectant—of his shop—was usually a comfort, but it was getting on his nerves today.
“I’ll get takeout. I’d guess Adrian is still camped in my house anyway.”
Raven laughed. “He’s still refusing to go home?”
“Eating me out of house and home. I’d forgotten how much that lean body could tuck away morning, noon and night. Thank God he can afford his own groceries now. The man has his own freaking palace with a view and he insists on sleeping in one of my spare rooms. I’m fine. I keep telling you all that.”
“If you got in the habit of calling it a guest room instead of Adrian’s room, I might believe you were annoyed by his presence. They want to do for you the way you’ve done for them, time and again. Now stop your pu**y-assed whining and go home.”
Tenderness burst through him and pride as well. His siblings had grown into such exceptional and gifted people. He’d had a part in that and it made him smile, even as they were overprotective and annoying.
“Yeah, yeah. I’m going now. Thanks for holding down the fort while I’ve been out.”
“What out? Puhleeze, Brody. You’ve been here every day but the one where you were hit. Sheesh.” She swatted his ass and he laughed as he left.
He pulled into the driveway, and on his way to the front door, he spotted her. The woman he’d begun to believe he’d dreamed up. She struggled to her front door with an armful of bags, and he found himself sprinting over there, heedless of his aches.
“Hey, let me help you.” Her head snapped up and she paled, stepping back. His smile slipped from his face as he was offended for a moment. Was she shrinking back from him because of the tattoos?
Her smile came then, shy but genuine, and his confusion was replaced by other, more immediate and pleasant feelings. “Oh, you startled me. Brody, right? How are you feeling?” A child came streaking around the corner, hugging a soccer ball to her chest.
“Yep, Brody. Can I help you with those?” He gestured at the bags. He tried not to loom or be scary. He wasn’t looming—well, he was, but it was only due to the fact that she was so small.
After a slight hesitation, she nodded and handed him two while she opened her front door and led him inside.
“Momma, who’s that ginormous guy in our kitchen?”
“Sweet Christ,” the pretty blonde, obviously the mother to the little girl, muttered, and Brody tried not to laugh.
“Irene, this is our neighbor. You remember? Mr. Brown is the man who got hit by the car on Saturday. Also, try to remember your manners.” She turned to Brody. “This is Irene, my daughter.”
Big, deep blue eyes blinked up at him, and her smile showed a gap where she’d lost a tooth on the top. All in all, a pretty cute kid as far as kids went. “Oh, yeah. You didn’t look so huge when you were on the ground. I brought over the first-aid kit and the phone for Momma to call the police.”
He put the bags on the table and grinned down at the miniature version of the larger woman. “Hey there. I’m Brody. Thanks for helping me this weekend.”
“Anytime. Momma says we’re part of a community, and community means you help each other.”
He nodded. This kid reminded him a lot of Erin. Firecracker. He wondered what the mother was like. He looked back to her, she of the very soft voice and the scared rabbit nerves. Thank God those had seemed to calm a bit; her eyes had stopped darting all around, but her small frame still held tension.
As he’d thought of Erin, he also realized he recognized the look on his savior’s face. The fear there wasn’t of him personally. Someone did something to her or she saw something to make her react that way. Anger, unbidden, washed over him a moment at the idea of anyone harming a woman—this woman.
He held his hand out and she took it. Soft skin to go with the voice. Small, fragile even. An urge to protect her washed over him. He tried to bury it. “I wanted to thank you too. Did you tell me your name was Angel?”
She laughed, blushing. “No.” He let go, but his skin felt her touch for long moments more. “You called me angel when you looked up at me. The hair maybe? The sun behind me? You were pretty out of it. I’m Elise.”
