He ran his fingers through his hair, letting out a sigh. “Not recently.”
“Define recently, West.”
“Keeping tabs?”
“People talk. So, Melanie wasn’t recent?” I couldn’t help myself, even though I hated how pathetic I sounded.
His lips thinned. “Melanie was before my dick and I had the awkward conversation in which it told me it was dead-set on you.”
“What about Tess?”
“What about her?” He looked momentarily confused.
“Was she before or after you and your dick sat down for the big talk? You said you weren’t opposed to havin’ sex with her again tonight.”
Lord. I was admitting to eavesdropping on him. West’s face hadn’t changed. It was still a stony mask of brutality. He was trying hard not to snap.
“You … you idiot.” He closed his eyes, exasperated, rubbing at his forehead. “I wanted to rile Reign up. He’s got the hots for her, and I’m still pissed about the way he treated you.”
“No. You’re the idiot,” I screamed in his face, not caring if people heard us. I stabbed his chest with my finger. “You are mad at me and you don’t even know why. At least I know why I hate your guts. You keep givin’ me mixed signals. Kissin’ me, but not goin’ all the way. Why is that, West? Is this Grace-is-pretty thing just an act? To help my self-esteem?” I chuckled bitterly, but there were tears coating my eyes. I could feel them.
Now it was his turn to bark out a dark laugh.
“You think I care about your self-esteem? Gimme a break, Tex. You’re not that important to me.”
I didn’t even bother to be offended, because I knew whatever came out of his mouth was a lie. Everything we felt toward one another—good and bad—spun together into something that was bigger than us.
He took a step back, giving me a silent once-over. I knew I looked the best I ever had since he’d met me, but his expression didn’t give anything away.
“What do you want to hear? That I have dreams of lowering your pretty blonde head down inside the food truck, unzipping myself, and making you deep-throat me until you choke on it? Would it help if I admitted that I want nothing more than fucking you six ways from Sunday? That I would devour your ass in a heartbeat, if it wasn’t for the fact we’re both majorly fucked-up—sorry, Tex, it’s the truth—and I’m getting out of this shithole as soon as I get my BA, and I don’t do serious relationships? Because you seem to know all that. You know why I didn’t kiss you.
“Tess, Mel, those chicks … they know the score. I don’t know them. I don’t care about them. The aftermath, once my dick is out of their holes, is none of my business. I can’t kiss you, Grace.” He shook his head sadly, taking another step back. “I can barely even fucking look at you.”
I was losing him. I knew that. And for the first time in a long time, I wanted to fight. The phoenix in me pushed through the sand, struggling under its weight, revealing more of its magnificent feathers. I rubbed at the broken flame ring on my finger, tipped my chin up, and gave the most seductive smile in my arsenal.
“It’s okay to be scared.”
His jaw locked, his Adam’s apple bobbing with a swallow.
“I’m not scared,” he said drily. But I knew him well enough to feel the undercurrent of anger rising up to the surface, dimming his green eyes.
“Sure you aren’t.” I picked up my little clutch that had fallen from my hand while we were fighting, hoisting it over my shoulder, preparing to leave. “And I get what you are sayin’. It really is a bad idea to get involved. But that doesn’t mean I’m goin’ to be a saint. Too chicken shit to start somethin’ with me? No problem. I’ll go downstairs and find me a nice Southern boy lookin’ for commitment. One who won’t get scared when things get serious. One who would be happy to make the promises you are so frightened of. A guy who …”
He pounced on me like a panther, causing my back to smash against the wall. I let out a cry, but he shut me up with his lips as his mouth crashed on mine with punishing force. He grabbed the pink ball cap he’d bought me and tossed it to the floor. I shook my head in protest, but he held me still, his strong fingers clasping my jaw in a bruising grip.
“How about you let me take a nice good look at you, Texas? You talk a big game, but when it’s time to show up, you’re too wishy-washy for my taste. Want a dirty hookup with the town’s favorite fuckup? You got your wish. Now open up.” It was a cruel demand, not a request.