Baiting the Maid of Honor (Wedding Dare #2)(35)

Julie tucked some stray hair behind her ear, trying to ignore the wave of fierce pleasure in her chest. His possessive attitude should bother her, confuse her. After all, why did he care what became of her once they parted ways? But she couldn’t deny liking it. Craving more. “It was a joke. You always wake up this cranky?”

“You call this cranky?”

“What would you call it?”

“Honest.”

Julie shook her head at him, still trying to gauge his mood. Taking a chance, she ran a finger along the scar at his hip, relieved when he didn’t flinch under the tender touch. “Another bar fight?”

“No.” He was silent a moment, tracking her movements closely. “Came by that one at home.”

Her finger stilled, but apart from that, she showed zero reaction, afraid an ounce of pity on her face would cause him to shut down. “Your daddy do this to you?”

“I never called him that, but yes. With a broken Budweiser bottle.”

She swallowed around the knot in her throat. “How old were you?”

“Twelve.”

Julie’s nature demanded she throw herself across his chest and wail to the heavens, but somehow she managed to keep her riotous emotions in check. While she’d been attending summer camp and hosting family barbecues, he’d been leading a pitiful existence. It made her sad. It horrified her. And it ticked her off good.

“How are you holding up down there, pixie? You look like you don’t know whether to scream or break something.”

“How would you feel about both?”

He shrugged his big shoulders. “It’s your room.”

She blew out a quick breath. “Do you want to tell me more?”

Brow furrowed, Reed glanced away. “Do you want to…know more?”

“Yes,” Julie answered, before she could second-guess herself. Even knowing it wasn’t wise. The more she learned about Reed, the more she understood him. Saw past his defenses. She was making it infinitely harder on herself by learning about the man beneath, but simply couldn’t help it. At that moment, lying together in the dark, barriers didn’t exist between them. She rested her head on the pillow and waited.

Reed didn’t speak for a full minute. “I didn’t call him daddy. I didn’t call him anything, really. Him, I suppose. You. Never really used my name either, took to calling me boy after my mother passed.” He tore his gaze away from her. “He took her in for a chemo treatment one afternoon. Next morning, she was just gone.” Staring into space, he ran an absent hand through his hair. “About a week later, I came across Colton and Brock at the lake. I’d spent the night in Colton’s boat—a few nights, actually. He didn’t mention it, just asked if I wanted to go fishing.”

Julie’s throat felt closed; her eyes burned, nose tingled. She buried her face in the pillow as the image of a world-weary little boy belonging for the first time swam in her head. She wanted to go back in time and weep all over that little boy. Make him a sandwich. Clean him up. That very boy had grown into a man who carried around the damage, but she couldn’t comfort the man. He wouldn’t let her. She tried to hide her distress, but it escaped in a watery sob. “Did you catch anything?”

Laughter rumbled in his chest. “Couple of catfish.”

She wailed even harder.

“Ah, Jesus. Come over here.” Reed propped himself against the headboard and pulled her onto his lap, tucking her head under his chin. She was too upset to be surprised. “Go ahead and say it.”

“Bless your little hearts.”

He sighed. “There it is.”

“Reed?”

“Huh, baby?”

“Your daddy not calling you by your name? It’s not the same thing as you not calling me Julie. It just isn’t. Don’t you go thinking about it one second more.”

…

Reed couldn’t speak for a long moment as he looked down at the weeping blonde who’d all but wrapped herself around his middle. Exactly where she belongs. He liked having her there. Loved it, actually. It felt vital. Necessary. Like if someone tried to pull her off of him, they would drag part of him away with her. And f*ck, for the first time in his life, he was scared shitless.

“All right, Julie,” he rasped into her hair, not knowing what else to say. Afraid if he opened his mouth, something would come out to send her away. Or keep her close. Either option unnerved him. He’d woken up to the best feeling of his life, his girl tucked into his chest where he could keep her safe. His first thought had been her name. Julie. The next had been, what the hell is wrong with you? He’d known going in that their relationship could only be temporary. Hell, temporary was all he did. More than one night with a woman was usually a stretch for him.

That feeling. That heavy dread when she’d run away from him that first night. The possessiveness he’d felt when she set her sights on Golden Boy. He should have known then. After spending a handful of minutes with her, he’d already been infatuated. Now that he knew her, had witnessed her compassion, knew the reasons behind her faults, he couldn’t walk away. It was simply too late. If someone tried to take her away, God help them. He would fight them tooth and nail.

At the same time, however, he feared disaster. She’d devoted her life to making other people happy. He didn’t give a flying shit about anyone else’s feelings…save hers. He had a darkness inside him that could eclipse her goodness so easily. He pictured himself at Sunday dinner, breaking bread with her richer-than-sin family, and nearly laughed out loud. They would be horrified at their daughter’s choice in men. That’s if she chose him at all.