Tangled (Playing With Fire)

“I never take chances.” Taking a chance meant taking a risk, and she just wasn’t up to it. Certainly not now, when her chance for failure was strong.

“You’ll never know until you try,” Brad said softly.

A tear slipped down her cheek, and she wiped it away furiously. “Do you think he’ll listen to what I have to say?”

“He seems like a pretty good guy. Drake said he was, and I value his opinion above all others.” Brad paused. “I know what happened between all of you.”

Scarlett swallowed hard. “You do?”

“Oh stop sounding worried. I don’t care. What happened, happened. Now I can brag to you how good Drake is and you’ll know it’s true.” Brad snickered.

“God, please don’t ever do that.” She shook her head but couldn’t help the little smile forming on her lips. “Let’s just keep that fact between ourselves.”

“Whatever, doll. Now get off the phone with me and go talk to your man. Tell him how you really feel.”

She took a deep breath. “Okay. If you say so.”

“You know I’m right. Quit stalling and call him. Or better yet, go see him,” Brad urged.

“Fine, fine. I’ll call him.” No way could she face him. If he did reject her, she’d rather have it happen over the phone.

Then she wouldn’t have to see his handsome face and know that he didn’t want her anymore.

She hung up the phone with Brad and blew out a harsh breath. She should take a shower, wake herself up a little bit before she called him.

You’re stalling, just like Brad accused you of.

Yep, she sure was. No reason to deny it.

She crawled out of bed and was heading toward her bathroom when the doorbell rang. Giving a quick peek in the mirror over her dresser, her heart dropped to her toes.

Confirmation that yes indeed, she looked like hell. Her hair was a massive case of bed head, she had dark circles under her eyes and her nose was red from crying.

Without a doubt, she knew that Trevor stood on the other side of her front door. Would he recoil in disgust when he got one look at her? Or would he accept her with open arms despite the ratty appearance.

Damn it, he shouldn’t care, and she shouldn’t either. If he really cared for her, he wouldn’t. So this was some sort of test. She was that confident that he was the one ringing her doorbell.

Ringing her doorbell again she realized as she bolted toward the door. If she didn’t get her act together, he would leave.

Might never return again, not that she would blame him.

Scarlett skidded to a halt in front of the door, her hand resting on the doorknob for one beat, two. Taking a deep breath, she searched for courage, strength and wisdom—all of the above. Then she twisted the lock and opened the door, her eyes going wide at the sight before her.

It was indeed her Trevor, looking delicious in a white T-shirt and faded jeans, a bundle of the most beautiful peach colored roses she’d ever seen clutched in one hand. Her gaze flew to his face, caught sight of the apprehension there and relief flooded her.

He looked as nervous as she felt.

“Hi, Scarlett.” He thrust the roses toward her in offering.

She took them from him, brought them to her nose and breathed deep. The heady fragrance of the flowers filled her head, made her dizzy. She smiled faintly despite the fear that still held her body captive. “Thank you. They’re beautiful.”

“Can we talk?” She opened the door wider.

“Of course. Come in. I have a few things to say to you, too.”

“I just bet you do,” he muttered as he walked by her, startling her with the irritation in his voice. She slowly closed the door, watched out of the corner of her eye as he strode inside her tiny apartment. He looked around, ran a hand through his hair and then rubbed the back of his neck. Gestures she recognized he did when he was nervous.

Again, his behavior reassured her. Made her think that maybe they were on the same page.