Hell for Leather (Black Knights Inc. #6)(67)

“And what exactly happens?” Her heartbeat was slow and steady, efficiently fueling the fire building in her blood.

“Delilah.” When he said her name like that, all low and Sam Elliott throaty, she had to suppress a shiver. “I think very highly of you. I do. But…”

The word hung in the air for what seemed like forever. In reality it was probably only a second or two, but it was a second or two longer than Delilah had the patience for.

“But what, Mac?” she demanded.

He stared at her for a second more, his eyes narrowed like he was trying to see into her soul. She let him look. She had nothing to hide. Then he shrugged. “It’s just that women like you aren’t cut out for—” He stopped and shook his head. “You’re nothing but trouble,” he finally finished.

“Nothing but trouble?” If her jaw hadn’t been attached to her head, it would’ve dropped to the floor. “Jesus Christ, Mac. You’re a goddamned misogynist! I never would’ve believed that.”

His chin jutted out stubbornly, making him look even more…stubborn. She didn’t want to press a finger to that fascinating dimple now. She wanted to slam a fist into it. Pow! One hit in the name of all womanhood!

“I’m not a misogynist,” he growled. “I love women. Everything about them. But I have firsthand knowledge of certain types of women, and I know my tendencies and limitations as well as theirs.”

“You almost had me convinced,” she sneered. “Up until that last bit, which was spoken like a true misogynist.”

For a moment they just stood there, glowering at each other. Delilah fancied the flashing in her peripheral vision was actual sparks crackling through the air. The fine hairs on her arms and the back of her neck stood up as if in warning of a potential lightning strike. And then it happened. But the thunderbolt wasn’t a burst of electricity from the sky, it was Mac’s next words…

“Would a misogynist have resisted you all this time because he knew he couldn’t offer you anything more than a hard f*ck?” And not that she wasn’t used to him cursing. He could sling a blue streak as well as anyone. But what she wasn’t used to was him being so crude about it. “Would a misogynist have suffered innumerable hard-ons just to save you the ignominy of a one-night stand?”

Of their own accord, her eyes darted down to the fly of his Levis. Sure enough, there it was. Mr. Woody.

“I was protectin’ you, goddamnit!” he nearly shouted, causing her eyes to fly to his face. “I know you’re lookin’ for more than a scratch for your itch. And since I can’t give you more, I was savin’ you the hurt and humiliation!”

“But…” She knew she was about to open herself up for more rejection. “Why? I don’t understand!”

He threw his hands in the air before pushing her aside so he could pace in front of the double beds. “We’ve already gone through this.” His booted steps thudded angrily against the carpet.

“Humor me,” she said, folding her arms over her chest, chafing her biceps. Cold. She suddenly felt very cold. Because of the air-conditioner? Or because she somehow sensed just how chilling Mac’s next words would be?

“I knew a woman once,” he said. “A woman who reminds me of you in some ways. She ruined…everything. And I’m not willin’ to stand by and watch history repeat itself.”

She felt she’d just taken one punch to the chin and another to the stomach. “B-but that’s not fair,” she whispered. “You can’t hold me accountable for something—”

“Fair?” His expression turned ugly. “Let me be the first to tell you, darlin’, life ain’t fair. In fact, it’s a goddamned—”

A hard knock sounded on the partially closed door. Ozzie immediately popped his head in. “Damn,” he said. “I was hoping to catch you kids going at it again.” He wiggled his eyebrows. Then his grin faltered when he sensed the strained atmosphere. “Is…uh…is everything okay in here?”

Okay? No. Everything was not okay.

“We’re fine,” Mac grumbled, sparing her a quick glance. She wanted to gouge his pretty blue eyes out. “What’s up?”

Ozzie hesitated a second, frowning at Delilah.

Damnit! Tears burned behind her eyes. But this time they weren’t sad tears or frightened tears. They were pissed-off tears! I’m-going-to-punch-Mac-in-the-balls tears!

“I feel like I’m missing something here,” Ozzie ventured.

“Yeah,” Delilah told him. “You’re missing the fact that your pal,” she motioned to Mac, “is an enormous *.”

One corner of Ozzie’s mouth twitched. “Nah. I’ve known that for years, and I—”

“Ozzie.” Mac cut him off, that wonderful drawl of his grating against Delilah’s nerves like sharp teeth sawing on bone. “What was it you came in here for?”

“Oh, uh, yeah. So, Chelsea has a few updates to share with us. She wants us to gather in Zoelner’s room.”

And that, effectively, was a verbal blanket thrown over the fire of Delilah’s fury. Updates. Uncle Theo…

Her lungs squeezed down inside her chest, causing her next exhalation to wheeze out of her like a tire that had just rolled over a nail.