I turn on the shower, strip and step beneath the spray, hissing when the water hits my side. There’s some bruising there too, and I feel like I was kicked by a mule.
Or a jackass.
“I hope your balls fall off, Billy Ray,” I growl and reach for the liquid soap on the shower caddy. Luckily, I remembered his name was actually Brent by the time we reached the station. Billy and the Asshole, aka Brent and Eddie, should be getting a visit from the men in blue by morning. So will Toni, if she’s still at her apartment.
I wash slowly, unable to stop myself from recalling what she said the last time I saw her.
“Maybe you should call for a ride. My treat.”
I laughed as she hovered in the doorway. “What’s wrong with him? Can’t he drive?”
I stopped rolling up the sleeves of my flannel and let my eyes go abnormally wide. “Is he old enough to drive, Toni? Did you set me up with a high school freshman again?”
She shook her head with a small smile at my teasing. “He was eighteen and you know it.”
“So you say,” I teased. “At least he had a driver’s license. I know, because no decent pizza place would hire a delivery boy who didn’t.”
She rubbed her temple and I noticed the shadows under her eyes. “Are you sick, T? I can stay home. I know you arranged this, but we can always reschedule.”
“Stop trying to take care of me,” she said, almost angrily before pushing her hair back and taking a calming breath. “You’re constantly helping other people, people you don’t even know, and you never think about yourself. You need someone special in your life as much as your readers do. Someone to take care of you for a change.”
“Well, maybe this guy is the one.”
“He’s not.” She shakes her head, a moment of panic flaring in her eyes. “This guy is a few hours and an article at most, and if anything about him bothers you, I want you to promise me you’ll come right home.”
“Yes, mother.”
“Good. But once he’s out of the way, you should find someone. A serious someone. I don’t want you to be alone.”
“Don’t worry about me, T.” I shrug and flex my biceps playfully. “Even if I’m alone with my hand for another decade, I’ll survive. My shelf life is eternal. Like a Twinkie.”
She didn’t laugh. “I want you to be happy, JD. One of us deserves to be.”
I get a face full of water and shampoo as I shake my head. “Damn it, Toni.”
She’d been doing so well. She was saving her money and daydreaming about an island vacation, her too-skinny frame was finally filling out to form healthy curves. I thought she was moving on.
I should have seen it.
I’ve always had a talent for reading people and situations, discovering what’s going on beneath the surface. When I was younger I used it to entertain classmates and make teachers uncomfortable. It didn’t win me a huge assortment of close friends though. Mainly because I couldn’t stop doing it. Watching. Observing. Combine that with my lack of filter and you’ve got a weird, socially dysfunctional child that makes people uncomfortable. Matilda told me I’d either be an investigative reporter or an FBI profiler. She was hoping for the former, since she didn’t want me working for “the man”.
But maybe I’m slipping. I didn’t see the trap they laid for me tonight. I didn’t see Toni’s setback, and it must have been coming for weeks. Now I’m naked and bruised in the shower of a man whose intentions are unclear or, at the very least, confusing. Why am I having such a hard time reading him?
I can see the basics. White knight syndrome isn’t unusual with first responders and the military. And he’s lonely. He’s left everything he’s ever known behind for something new. Which for me is normal, but for a guy like him? I get it. It’s a big change.
What I can’t wrap my head around is the way he’s treating me. The way he was treating me all night, even before I got my ass kicked. The looks, the touches, the overly attentive behavior. It’s more than kind. It’s protective. Almost possessive.
You’re seeing what you want to see, Green.
That’s what I’m most afraid of. My reaction to him could be clouding my judgment, making me see a connection that isn’t there. Objectively, we don’t have much in common. He’s bossy. Older. Intense. Probably irritatingly punctual.
Even if he is gay or bi, he might not want anything to do with me sexually. For all I know, he could look at me and see a child. A young recruit that got into a fight because he mouthed off and now has to be reprimanded. To take his punishment from the hot, older drill instructor by stripping and bending over the—