“You said it, not me,” she snapped.
“I didn’t mean it literally.”
“I…didn’t, either. Not exactly.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.” She looked away from him. “Just…there are days…”
“And nights.”
Startled, she did meet his eyes. “What do you—Oh. Me going out.”
She hadn’t taken offense yet at him for butting in, so he asked, “Where do you go?”
“I told you. I just drive around.”
If that was the entire truth, her gaze wouldn’t have shied away.
“Waste of gas.”
Her lashes fluttered. “Not my biggest worry.”
“Can I go with you some night?”
“No!”
Seeing her expression of horror, he instinctively retreated. With a nod, he stood, backing away. “I need to get to work.”
“Cole?”
Pretending he hadn’t heard her, he walked out of the room.
* * *
SHE DIDN’T EVEN hear his footsteps in the hall or on the stairs. Erin only knew he’d gone outside when she heard the front door opening and closing.
She’d come so close to telling him. Not about how she taunted death. No, about the accident. Funny, since she’d been so relieved to get away from everyone who knew about it. Would Cole tiptoe around her once he knew, like her friends and colleagues had?
Swinging her feet over the edge of the bed, she realized she still wore her paint-spattered canvas tennis shoes. In this house, nobody put shoes on the furniture or, heaven forbid, on Nanna’s nice bedspread.
“Sorry, Nanna,” she murmured.
Would Cole understand anything she felt? Most of her friends had zilch experience of really bad things happening. Lucky people. If they’d ever seen anyone dead, it was probably an elderly grandparent passing away—and wasn’t that a euphemism—with family gathered around. What she’d heard and seen would be beyond their comprehension. Cole, though… Even if he hadn’t, well, killed anyone, he might have seen awful stuff happening while he was in prison, mightn’t he?
She grimaced as she made herself head for the bathroom.
Why would that help him understand? Even if he’d seen men knifed or beaten, they would have been, if not strangers, at least nobody he’d cared about that much.
And unless he wielded the knife himself or battered someone bloody with his own fists, he wasn’t responsible. It wasn’t his fault.
No, better to keep her confusion and misery to herself. Cole was the one who’d drawn the line separating them. Feeling lonelier than she’d realized, she’d tried to erase it, or at least ignore it. But despite the way he’d opened up at least a little during dinner last night, he’d made it clear that the line was still there.
Catching sight of herself in the mirror on the medicine cabinet, she froze. Wow, she hadn’t looked this bad in a while. Weeks. Since before she’d hired Cole. No wonder he’d seemed shaken.
She leaned closer, tipping her head one way and then the other. Last night had not been good. She’d regressed. She wanted to lie to herself and believe she had no idea why, but she couldn’t.
It was because of him. She felt things for him that were foolish and hopeless and not helpful to her state of mind.
She was still studying the bruises beneath her eyes and the paint she’d managed to get in her hair when a surprising thought surfaced.
Cole had come searching for her. He’d worried about her. No, he said she’d scared him. He’d demanded she tell him what was wrong.
If anybody had stepped over the line, it wasn’t her. And sure, maybe his initial fear was that he’d find her dead and, as an ex-con, he’d be in big trouble. But that didn’t explain why he’d stayed worried once he realized she’d only been asleep.
Right now, all they had was each other. That probably made it inevitable they’d start to care. Didn’t mean it wasn’t temporary, she reminded herself. Even so, she felt a warmth that was at odds with last night’s devastating awareness of how alone she was.
Cole would hate knowing what she did when she went out driving. At least it mattered to one person if she didn’t come back some night. Erin wondered if that would make any difference.