Three Broken Promises (One Week Girlfriend 3)

Should I text him and tell him to meet me at the door? He’d do it. I know he would . . .

Nah. He’ll think I’m a total wimp if I do that. I can run across the lot. It’s no biggie. He’s just right there.

The minute I walk outside the wind hits me, chilling me to the bone. I duck my head against it, my shoulders hunched as I dart across the parking lot. Glancing up, I see Colin sitting in his car, his head bent, the glow from his cell phone illuminating his face. I smile, my belly filling with tiny, fluttering butterflies at the realization that this beautiful, sexy man is mine, at least temporarily.

Out of nowhere a bulky figure comes at me, knocking me off my feet. I fall onto the asphalt with a cry, hitting the ground so hard the wind is knocked out of me. I curl into myself for protection, my arm feeling like it’s being tugged right out of its socket.

“Come on! Gimme your purse, bitch!” The guy towers over me. I can’t make out his face since the shadows are cast over it, but he sounds young. Possibly even younger than me.

I hadn’t realized I was gripping my tiny purse so tightly. Loosening my hold, I let him take it, then watch in stunned disbelief as he tucks it under his arm like a football and takes off across the lot, rounding the corner and disappearing from view.

I’m panting, left sitting sprawled on the asphalt. Icy shock washes over me as I glance about the parking lot. My throat is dry, I can’t manage to form a single word, and I swallow hard. Trying to stand, my legs wobble and I stumble, falling down on my knees, wincing at the pain that lances through me when I make contact with the ground. I look down, see that my knees are scratched and bloody, and that’s when I find my voice.

And scream bloody freaking murder.

Within seconds Colin’s there for me first, with a few people from the restaurant surrounding me soon after. Someone, I don’t know who, calls 911. Colin has his arm around my shoulders, his face in mine, his voice a mixture of concern and cold, calm anger.

“What happened, baby?” He leans into me and whispers this in my ear, his hand smoothing over my hair in a comforting gesture. “Who did this to you?”

I press my head against his strong, solid shoulder and close my eyes for a moment, refusing to cry. I won’t let this upset me. That jackass who took my purse—and all of tonight’s tips with it—isn’t worth crying over. I’ve endured worse. Much, much worse. This is no big deal. “I was walking toward your car and this guy ran into me, pushing me onto the ground. He—he stole my purse.” My voice wavers and I sniff hard, willing the tears that threaten to disappear.

“Shit.” Colin sounds furious as he lifts his head and looks around the lot. His jaw is tight, I notice the tic in it he only gets when he’s super mad, and his eyes blaze with angry blue fire. “Anybody see him?”

“None of us were out here except for you.” Steven says this in the most antagonizing tone, one I hope Colin will ignore, but . . .

He doesn’t. Worse, he rises to the bait.

“Are you saying this is my fault, Harper?” Colin’s voice is low, full of quiet fury, and the look on Steven’s face says he definitely notices. And thankfully backs off.

The police show up quickly and question me, but I don’t have much to say. The female officer informs me that there have been a rash of robberies just like this over the last couple of months and I was lucky I didn’t get hurt worse. That a woman who was robbed a few nights ago walking across her apartment parking lot had been hit upside the head with a gun—and was still in the hospital because of her injuries.

That bit of information sends a cold ripple of fear down my spine.

Colin urges me to go to the emergency room so they can at least check me out and make sure I’m okay, but I refuse. I just want to go home, crawl into bed, and go to sleep. Forget this ever happened to me.

“You need to call your bank and cancel all your credit cards,” Colin suggests on the drive home. The police had finally let us go, the female officer giving Colin a stern lecture about replacing the burnt-out lights in the parking lot and making sure the security guard he usually has on duty is actually . . . on duty.

Her chastising had pissed Colin off, not that I could blame him. He already feels responsible enough.

He always feels responsible, especially for my well-being. I wonder if he’s sick of it yet.

“I don’t have any credit cards,” I say wearily, earning a surprised glance from Colin.

“A bank card at least?” he asks. “I’m guessing the guy was looking for cash, but you never know what he might try. Credit card fraud is such a huge problem right now.”

“Yeah. I’ll call my bank in the morning to report it and get it replaced.” I close my eyes, my mind replaying over and over again the way the man rammed his big body into mine, sending me sprawling onto the ground. What would I have done if he’d actually used his hands on me, like what happened to that woman a few nights ago? Would I have fought back? Or just lain there and let him hit me?

“You really should call when we get home,” Colin continues. “Or you could borrow my cell phone and make the call right now.”

“I just . . . I can’t worry about that right now, Colin,” I whisper, wishing he would stop talking. The last thing I need right now is a lecture. And I can feel one coming on, along with a massive headache. “Please just let me sit here and be quiet for a little bit.”

“Fine,” he bites out, sounding irritated but I don’t care. He’s not the one who was just robbed. I know he’s worried about me, but I wish he would just . . . lay off for a second.

I know I should be appreciative of him going into his usual protector mode but for whatever reason, I’m beyond irritated, sick of him always running to my rescue, always trying to tell me what to do.

I’m probably being completely irrational, but seeing him yet again trying to take care of me, take over me really, only proves how badly I need to get away from him. Despite the connection we have, the amazing sex . . . it won’t last. He doesn’t stick.

And neither do I.

The rest of the quick drive home is quiet, and I escape into the house from the garage as soon as he cuts the car’s engine. I have no purse, which means the jackass who took it stole a bunch of my makeup, Colin’s house key, my cell, and my wallet. And again, I can’t help but remember how fat it had been with my night’s tips.

I know Colin is right and I should at least call my bank, but I’m too exhausted to even scrub the makeup off my face, let alone make an actual phone call.

I can barely think and act like a normal human being. I’m in full-blown zombie mode as I move through the house, my brain blank, my body taking me where I need to go like I’m on autopilot.

Entering my room, I flick on the lights and stare at my reflection in the mirror that hangs over the dresser. My cheeks are streaked with mascara-stained tears that I don’t even remember crying. My face is swollen, my eyes are bloodshot, and I look terrible.

Great.

Looking down, I see that the hem of my dress is torn and my knees are still bloody and scraped. With a sigh, I head into the bathroom to clean up my wounds, but Colin is already in there, searching through the drawers until he comes up with antibiotic cream and Band-Aids.

I watch him from where I stand in the doorway, both loathing and appreciating his effort to take care of me in every way he can. I should be touched that he would do all of this, as though he’s my big brother or something. My champion, my knight in shining armor coming to rescue me on his mighty steed.

“Let me help you,” he says the moment he notices me standing there watching him. “Come here.”

I walk inside the small bathroom and sit on the toilet seat, my skirt rising up and revealing my bloodied knees. He finds a clean washcloth in a drawer and dampens it with cool water under the faucet, then gently presses it to my left knee.

Wincing, I hiss in a breath, surprised at how much the scrape hurts. Colin dabs at my skin, his brows furrowed as he studies my knee.

“You have bits of rock in this one,” he says as he reaches out with his other hand and carefully flicks them away. “Doesn’t look serious, though.”

“It hurts,” I murmur, hating how pitiful I sound.

“Sorry.” He flashes me a tight, sympathetic smile. “Your knees will look like hell for about a week with the bandages on them, but hey, maybe you could start a new trend.” He’s trying to joke, to lighten the moment as he dabs the antibiotic cream on my knee and then places a Band-Aid on the wound, but it’s not working.

“What sort of trend would that be?” I ask once he starts in on my other knee. “Hold-up Chic?”

He shoots me a look but never lets up on his tending of my other knee. His touch is so gentle, the look on his face equally so, and watching him fills me with both pleasure and sadness. It makes no sense, the confusion swirling in my brain. Why do I resent Colin for wanting to take care of me? I should be appreciative. I should hug him and thank him for being there for me in my time of need.

Instead, I say nothing. Because I always seem to have a time of need. And he always seems to be right there for me. Saving me.

I’m starting to hate it.

This knee isn’t as bad as the other one and he takes quick care of it, bandaging me up and declaring me fixed with the tiniest smile.

I don’t have the heart to tell him I feel more broken than ever.

Chapter 16

Jen

“I’m firing the security company,” Colin announces the moment I shuffle into the kitchen.

Stopping short, I study him through bleary eyes, deciding it’s a crime for a man to wake up first thing in the morning looking so damn good. Wearing nothing but a pair of black-and-gray flannel pajama pants that hang indecently low on his hips, revealing all that smooth muscled skin I’m itching to touch, he’s making coffee and acting super efficient.

“Why are you firing the security company?” I ask as I sit at the small kitchen table, my movements careful. My body aches and my knees still hurt. As I inhale deeply, the scent of rich, fragrant coffee slowly wakes up my murky brain.

He keeps his back to me, his pants falling even lower when he reaches into the cabinet above him and pulls out two coffee mugs. I see a tan line, and immediately think of how I had my hands all over the area south of it just yesterday morning. My cheeks flush hot with a mixture of embarrassment and arousal, and my body’s tingling in all the right places.

Needless to say, nothing happened between us last night. I’d gone to sleep in my bed, and he’d gone to sleep in his. I woke up in the middle of the night to hear him yelling something unintelligible, but I didn’t go to him. And the yelling stopped as soon as it started, so I can only hope the dreams weren’t too bad.

I felt like a jerk not going to him, but I have to break myself of this habit. I can’t keep trying to rescue him. Just like he can’t keep trying to rescue me.

God, we’re a pair, aren’t we?

“There was supposed to be a guard on duty until two a.m., but he left early without consulting anyone. This isn’t the first time, either. I want him fired. The company’s at fault, so I’m terminating our contract with them first thing when I head into the office.”

“Maybe he had some sort of emergency,” I offer weakly. My head slowly starts to pound. I’m so not in the mood to fight or discuss what happened last night. It’s too early for this sort of discussion.

I just want to forget.

“Come on. I’ve texted Steven and a few others at the restaurant. They said this guy left early a lot, which pisses me off. And even if what you’re saying is true, I really don’t care. He should have at least let someone know. They’re in breach of contract. Makes it real easy for me to end this relationship. Though now I need to find another security company stat. Preferably tonight.” He finally pours each of us a cup of coffee, preparing them before bringing mine with him as he walks to the table and drops into the chair across from me. He slides the steaming mug toward me with a nod. “Here you go. Just the way you like it.”

He knows how I like my coffee, heavy on the creamer. “Thank you,” I say gratefully, taking the cup between both hands and bringing it to my lips, breathing in the rich, delicious scent before I take a sip.

“So did you sleep all right? How are your knees this morning?” he asks, his voice deep and full of concern.

After he’d cleaned them up, he walked me to my room last night, tucking me into my bed like I’m some sort of child. I’d been half tempted to ask him to crawl into bed with me and spend the night, but I held back. I didn’t want to look too needy.

It’s bad enough, how needy I already am. Breaking bad habits, right? I need to remember that.

“I slept okay.” I’d lain in bed, wide awake for at least an hour, running over again and again in my head what happened to me out in the parking lot. Wondering how I could have prevented it. I’d kept my head down most of the walk, too focused on getting to Colin’s car, thinking of Colin. Of going straight home so I could get him na**d. So preoccupied with my wicked thoughts, I never once checked out my surroundings. I’d been easy pickings for that guy; no wonder he came for me.

And I could blame no one but myself for that.

“Are you in any sort of pain?” The soft concern lacing his deep voice almost makes me want to cry, which is so stupid. I’m thinking like such a girl right now I want to smack myself.

“My body aches, yeah. I hit the ground pretty hard when I fell. But my knees are better. They don’t hurt as bad.” It was sort of true. They still sting, but not as much as last night.