“A little.”
“Did you drive yourself here?”
“Of course not.” As if he owned the place, he plopped down onto her couch and threw his arms over the back of it. Clearly, he planned to stay awhile. “My friend dropped me off after the party.”
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She watched him a minute, wondering what the hell was going on. He gave her a heated look. Was this a booty call? “Look, Ambrose. I have work tomorrow. I’m not interested in having sex with a drunk-off-his-ass idiot.”
“No sex. Just sit with me a minute. I’ve missed you.”
“I just saw you two days ago.” Still, she walked to the couch and sat carefully next to him, hoping to avoid being puked on, if he was that far gone. “How drunk are you?”
“I’ve been worse.”
He was barely slurring, but she had no idea what to do with him now.
Leaning back, he pulled her so she was up against his chest, then he ran his fingers through her hair. She was worried he’d be too rough, but he was so gentle she could barely feel it—as if he knew he wasn’t totally in control, so he was compensating.
“I missed you,” he whispered.
“You said that already.”
“My brother brought his girlfriend, and it made me jealous as fuck.” He sighed. “He’s always bragging about shit.”
Brother? He never said he worked with his brother.
“So I had to come see you. My fragile male ego was at stake.” Chuckling, he buried his nose into her hair again.
Wait a minute. His brother was allowed to bring a date to the party and Ambrose wasn’t? “You said nobody was allowed to bring their significant others.”
“Hmm?” he hummed sleepily. “Oh. It’s . . . complicated.”
Ringing started in her ears. Her heart twinged with pain then felt like it sank down to her stomach. Tears pricked her eyes.
He hadn’t wanted to bring her.
Her chest hurt. Past rejections went spinning into her mind. All of them hurt, but this was the worst. Was he embarrassed of her? Was she too loud or forward or something? She could behave. Didn’t he trust that?
“Is . . . is there someone else?”
That seemed to perk him up. “What?” His body shifted under her. “No. Don’t be ridiculous.”
If not that, was it her hair or the way she dressed? She’d have covered the pink if that’s what he wanted. All he had to do was ask.
That thought made her freeze. Would she really pretend she was something she wasn’t for him? Was she that hooked? She’d give up her wild hair and brightly colored nails to please him and not embarrass him? She’d sworn she’d never change for a man. Why was he different?
He wasn’t. He’d lied to her.
A painful lump got stuck in her throat, making it hard to get words out. “Are you . . . embarrassed of me?”
She felt him twitch underneath her. “No.” He grunted, sounding irritated. “Of course not.”
To her humiliation, a few tears leaked from her eyes, but he couldn’t see it as long as she kept her face down. “Is it my hair? Because I would change it for you, if it was really a problem.”
He chuckled. “No. I love your hair. It’s nothing like that. It’s not you.”
“Then why . . .” Her voice hitched, and she took a deep breath to calm herself.