Rock Chick Redemption (Rock Chick #3)(56)

“I shouldn’t have brought you back here. I was worried about that.”

I shook my head, tears stil coming. “It’s me, I’m weak.”

“It isn’t you, it could happen to anyone.” I knew it wouldn’t happen to Indy or Al y or Daisy or anyone he knew. They were made of sterner stuff than me.

“I’m sorry,” I said quietly.

“Why?”

“I feel stupid.”

“Christ, Sunshine, give yourself a break.” I nodded but didn’t agree.

He held me until I quit shaking, his arms tight around me.

Then he stood up, taking me with him and set me on my feet. He bent and picked my panties up from the floor, silently handing them to me. I put them on while he dug in his drawer and pul ed out an olive-drab thermal, long sleeve shirt with a kickass skul in tan emblazoned on the back. It was a Lucky thermal and it was sweet. He yanked it over my head, I shoved my arms through and it fel over my hips.

“Let’s go get Shamus,” he said.

He guided me to the backdoor, holding my hand the whole time, and opened it. Shamus bolted inside. Then he walked me to the kitchen and let go of my hand and started to make coffee.

“Feed Shamus, wil you?” Hank asked.

He told me where to find the stuff. The sleeves of the Lucky thermal went over my hands and I wiped the remains of the tears off my face with them. Then I pushed them back up my forearms and looked around the living room.

It was tidy. The Fat Tire print was gone, the Skinny Dip print had been repositioned to center over the couch.

Everything was where it was supposed to be; the broken lamp hadn’t been replaced but any remnants of it were swept away. It was like Bil y hadn’t even been there.

Instead, it looked like when I first walked in after Hank’s and my date.

I looked away before I started decorating again, took a deep breath and made Shamus his breakfast. While I did this, Shamus jumped around me in happy anticipation of being fed. When I set his bowl on the floor, he shoved his face into the wet food, his body stil moving with his wagging tail.

“He’s a happy dog,” I told Hank, staring down at Shamus and wishing my life could be as simple as his. Food, happy.

Walk, happy. Hank, happy.

Okay, maybe my life could be like that, or a version of that, but I wasn’t going to go there.

Hank got in front of me and then smack in my space, backing me up until my bottom hit the counter. He got so close I could feel the heat from his body.

His hands came to either side of my neck and he looked into my eyes. “How you doin’?” he asked.

I nodded. “Better. Sorry about that.”

“If you apologize again –”

“Sorry. Sorry… um, sorry!” Oh God, I couldn’t quit saying sorry.

Hank smiled at me. “Shut up,” he said.

“Okay,” I replied.

“Put your arms around me.”

I was so weirded out by that morning’s experience, I immediately did as I was told.

He got even closer. “How’m I doin’?”

I blinked up at him. “Pardon?”

His hands slid down my shoulders and linked around my back. Then he rubbed his nose against mine.

I hated it when he did that, mainly because I loved it when he did that.

“Convincin’ you to stay,” he went on quietly.

Shit.

“I’m leaving today, Hank.”

His eyes got lazy.

I hated it when they did that, mainly because I loved it when they did that.

I gave my foot a little stomp, both to show him I was serious and to show myself.

“You think I’m staying!” I snapped.

“I know you’re stayin’,” he replied.

I rol ed my eyes to the ceiling then brought them back to him. “I’m going to have coffee, make you French toast for breakfast and you’re going to take me back to Tex’s. Then, I’m going to get my car, find Annette and go.”

“French toast sounds good.”

He obviously felt like ignoring the rest of what I said.

Whatever.

“Do you have bread, eggs, maple syrup?” I asked.

His head dipped and went to my neck. With his lips there, he said, “Probably.”

“Powdered sugar, cream cheese?” I went on.

“Probably not,” he said, mouth stil at my neck.

Oh wel , I’d make do.

“Move back, I’m going to get started.”

His head came up and he was grinning at me.

I rol ed my eyes at him and heard him laugh softly.

He let me go and stepped away.

I walked to the coffee and pul ed open the cabinet above it, figuring that’s where the mugs would be because that’s where I’d keep the mugs. The mugs were there and I took out two.

“How do you take your coffee?” I asked.

He came up behind me, pressed my h*ps against the counter and his arms went around me, his mouth going back to my neck.

“Black,” he answered, just before both his hands went under the shirt; one went north, one went south.

“Hank!” My body jerked but there was no getting away from him. “Let me go.”

“Cal me Whisky and I’l let you go,” he said against my neck.