Jacked (Trent Brothers #1)(119)

I’d mentally cataloged every one of my relationship mistakes, adding each new discovery to my list of “do not repeat.”

“Your parents are great,” Adam said, breaking our comfortable silence.

I was relieved to know he felt that way, considering that meeting the parents was usually the beginning of the end. Mentioning them meant it was in the forefront of his mind, which in itself was instantly alarming. It was one thing to be a teenager meeting your girlfriend’s parents. It didn’t have the same underlying meaning of the possibility of a future and/or marriage intentions like meeting the parents of your thirty-year-old girlfriend did.

I glanced over at him, diagnosing just how long this new relationship had before expiring from the acute stress of growth. “Thanks. Sorry my dad talked your ear off.”

Adam smiled. “He’s a nice guy. I actually learned a few things from him tonight.”

“Oh?” Oh God! What did my dad tell him? They were locked in conversation toward the end of the night for over an hour. Did he tell Adam about my past? I was afraid to ask.

He glanced over. “Well, beyond hearing that you once thought a Ford Mustang was a horse and your favorite color growing up was hot pink? Yeah, we had a great chat. He’s really easy to talk to.”

I held my breath.

While Adam recapped his conversation about anti-theft devices in new cars, my heart pounded like a bass drum in my throat. My dad was a car guy through and through, which, much to my relief, melded perfectly with my auto theft detective. But did my father share too much? My family never talked about my arrest anymore; it had become taboo to dredge it back up, just like we never talked about Kate’s accident. If we didn’t acknowledge it, it didn’t happen.

I didn’t think my dad would share, but he was emotionally strained and vulnerable. Anything was possible.

Just when I thought Adam would make a right onto Landsdowne Avenue, he drove straight. “Um, aren’t you taking me home?”

“Yeah,” he glanced over, “just not your home.”





ADAM PUNCHED IN his security code, reset the house alarm, and tossed his truck keys onto the granite countertop. I hung my dress coat up on one of the hooks on the wall in his laundry room where I’d learned all coats go.

I was also learning the many moods that made up Adam Trent, but unfortunately was at a complete loss for the one he was currently wearing.

“You okay?” he asked.

After having been asked that question over two hundred times tonight, I was done hearing it. “I’m fine.”

He held up both hands. “Easy. You didn’t cry tonight, that’s all. I’m just checking.”

I was particularly proud that I hadn’t. Someone had to hold my family together.

“I thought you would,” he continued, taking the folded tissues out of his pocket.

“I’m sorry if I disappointed you.”

His irritated glare set me back a half step, making me instantly regret my snappy retort.

“You getting short with me, Doc?”

My head was starting to hurt. “Sorry. I just have a lot of things on my mind right now.”

“Like?”

I shook my head; I wouldn’t even know where to begin—not that he would care.

He rested his hands on his hips. “You want to talk about it?”

And make you dump me faster? I don’t think so. “No. That’s okay. You really don’t want to hear my problems.”

“I don’t?”

I needed to crawl into bed and hug a pillow. I’d thought about asking him to drive me home; I was tired and torn between wanting to be alone and needing the comfort of his company. “No, you don’t.” And that’s when residual echoes of Randy telling me to “Just shut the f*ck up already. If I wanted to hear bitching I’d have stayed at work!” roared through my brain. It was a hard lesson learned, and one I’d never forget. “I’ll work it out on my own. It’s okay.”

Adam scowled and then scanned the corners of his kitchen. “I don’t think you’re on your own here.”

“I’m fine, or at least I will be.”

He muttered a curse. “You’re fine?”

“Yes.”

“You don’t look f*cking fine, Erin.”

“They’re my problems, Adam. I’ll figure it out. You don’t need to pretend to care. Really. It’s okay. Believe me; I know guys don’t want to hear women whining and bitching about stuff. I learned that lesson a long time ago, so I’ll spare you.”

I heard his unmistakable scoff. “Unbelievable. You’ll spare me.”

Great, now I’ve pissed him off.

He stormed around the kitchen. “What’s bugging you?”

“Nothing. Just drop it, okay?”

He stared me down, puffing like a bull ready to charge. “You trust me?”

I felt off-balance. “Trust has nothing to do with it.”

“Do you trust me?” he asked again, punctuating each word.

“Why? Are you going to give me a reason not to?”

Adam grabbed my hand and hauled me through his living room. I had presumed his assertive gait meant we were headed to his bedroom, so I was quite confused when he led me downstairs.