That question stilled her hand for a moment, then she resumed scrubbing the counter while casting him a sidelong glance. Should she tell him? Reveal the details of her past and chase him away for good? She almost laughed as she dropped the dish cloth in the sink and pulled open the garbage drawer underneath to deposit the cellophane wrapper. He wasn’t hers to chase away, so what the hell?
“My
mother was murdered during a break-in when I was three years old.”
Shock registered on his face.
“My dad taught me how to use a gun when I turned thirteen. At first, it was so I’d be able to protect myself.”
“At first?”
She shrugged.
“And later?”
“I wanted to spend time with him,” she admitted, opening the refrigerator. Over the door, she explained, “We didn’t have the closest relationship.”
“I don’t know,” he said. “Target practice conjures up all sorts of warm fuzzies for me.”
Marley couldn’t help but smile. He had a sense of humor after all. It was dry, and a tad sarcastic, but it was there, nonetheless.
“Why do you keep it in the closet? Seems a little out of the way.”
“It wasn’t tonight.”
“And if you’re home and someone tried to break in? Like what happened to your mother?”
Marley saw his expression had changed. Not that he’d been smiling, but all humor had left his eyes. She looked into the refrigerator without even seeing its contents. His question made sense, yet knowing how her mother had died, she realized she’d never feared the same thing happening to her. Why not? Because she hadn’t been there when the robbery occurred? Or, because her father hadn’t told her what really happened until she was older…after she knew how to handle the gun?
She’d never really thought about it and didn’t intend to in front of Justin. She shrugged and said, “That’s just where my dad always kept it. Maybe I’ll move it.”
When she lifted her gaze again, he still watched her, his face too serious for her liking. Their direct eye-contact started her heart pumping faster. When his attention shifted to her hair, she self-consciously reached to push her curls back over her shoulder. Too bad she didn’t have an elastic band handy to pull it back.
“Your hair looks…” He paused, and she waited for him to finish even as she noticed he looked like he wished he hadn’t opened his mouth. Finally, he said, “Nice.”
She made a face. Because of his words and because it hit her she was standing there like an idiot with the refrigerator door wide open. “Go ahead and say it, I know it looks stupid.” She waved a hand at her face and encompassed her un-tucked shirttails. “Just like the rest of it. Do you want a soda?”
He cleared his throat. “I didn’t mean it that way, it came out wrong. You have beautiful hair.”
“Yeah, right. That’s why the guys were staring at me like I’d sprouted horns.”
She’d never been so embarrassed as when she’d approached the table and seen the looks on their faces. Even a few beers hadn’t eased the feeling. Which is what had landed her here.
Desperate to change the subject, she reached for two cans of soda and waggled one can above the door. “Yes or no?”
“They were staring because you sprouted a body that they didn’t realize existed beneath your work clothes.”
“I’m still wearing my work clothes,” she pointed out.
“Yeah, but tonight you were wearing them.”
His suggestive emphasis elicited an unladylike snort from her. “This is the most ridiculous conversation I’ve ever had.”
Without bothering to ask again, she lobbed him a can. He caught it easily, then tapped the top to keep it from exploding when he popped the tab. Metallic tings filled the space between them. She had to shut the refrigerator door but didn’t want to give up its protective barrier. Though why she wanted protection from him now, she wasn’t quite sure.
“You want to know what I was really going to say?”
His low tone mesmerized her and she swallowed hard. “No.”