Her smile is a little uneasy. “I have a date.”
My amusement rapidly dissipates. I feel a little like she just socked me in the stomach; I know that’s unfair, I know I have no right, but dread settles in my gut as I reevaluate this scenario. She only asked me to come over to grab a damn box. The dinner is not for me. She wasn’t luring me over here to coax me into spending time with her; she’s just setting up her apartment for a date with some other fucking guy.
I don’t answer for long enough that it gets weird. Since I already offered to open the damn box when I assumed I was getting a dinner invite, I head into the living room to unpack it. I yank the tape off like it offended me, pulling back the cardboard flaps and drawing out a mini Christmas tree. There are little ornaments, a string of white lights, and a length of thick gold ribbon inside.
All I can think about now is some other asshole coming over to her house. Who is this guy, even? Has she been talking to him the whole time we’ve been hanging out? How did she meet him? Was she dating before? Why hadn’t I ever paid attention to what she was doing before she started showing up on my doorstep?
Well, okay, because I had no reason to, but now it feels like there’s an itch inside my brain and I can’t get to it.
I don’t want her to have some asshole over to her apartment. And an apartment date isn’t a first date. Making him dinner at her apartment? That’s gotta be a second or third date.
When I can do so without growling at her, I head back to the kitchen. “Got the tree out.”
“Thanks,” she says, flashing me another little smile before turning her attention back to the stovetop.
I hate how unaffected she is by me tonight. I wasn’t picking up on it before she told me about this goddamn date, but now I’m realizing she’s just being polite. Now she really is just treating me like a neighbor.
“You didn’t mention you were seeing someone,” I state, folding my arms across my chest.
Smiling teasingly, she says, “Well, it’s not my Marine, so I didn’t figure you’d object.”
“But you are seeing someone.”
“I’m not seeing someone, it’s just a date. I’m a single woman; I’m allowed to date men who are interested in me.”
“I didn’t suggest you weren’t.”
“Good,” she says, evenly, glancing at me over her shoulder.
I still feel aggravated over it though, and even though it’s irrational, her insistence that she’s allowed to be doing this rankles even more. “So, I guess all that stuff about how you’re not going anywhere…?” I don’t know how to finish this accusation, but she turns and props a hand on her hip, lifting an eyebrow.
“Still applies?” she finishes. “I’m still your friend. I’ll still come over. I just told you I’d bring you my leftover meatballs if there are any. I won’t disappear on you, but I’m not going to sit by myself in my apartment or live like a nun because you’re blowing me off every night, either. I’m not sure what you’re used to dealing with, but that’s not how this works.”
“You said you weren’t looking for a relationship,” I remind her.
Now she walks away from the stove and moves closer, her hips swaying suggestively, a spark in her pretty blue eyes. She smiles faintly, but it’s not a friendly smile. “I’m not looking for a relationship, Vince.” She’s close now, right in front of me, so she reaches out to trail a hand down my chest, then drag it a little more slowly down my abdomen. She pauses to look up at me through her lashes and tells me, “I’m looking for someone to rip my clothes off, throw me down on my bed, and fuck me until I forget the last asshole who gave me an orgasm is avoiding me like the black plague.” Dropping her hand from my abdomen, she checks the delicate watch on her wrist. “It shouldn’t take more than a couple of hours.”
The prospect of her with anyone else makes me see red. I grab her shoulders, backing her up against the wall. “If he lays so much as a finger on you, I’ll break his fucking arm.”
Half-glaring even as I crowd her, she tilts her chin up stubbornly. “My body isn’t yours to command. I’m a free woman, remember?”
“Don’t play games with me, Mi—”
I freeze, realizing the wrong name almost fell off my lips. All the rage suddenly drains out of me, coldness sweeping through me like a winter storm.
I take a step back.
Carly’s gaze drops, indicating she also has an idea what I was about to say.
I take two more steps back, then I turn on my heel and flee before either of us are forced to acknowledge it.