Search Me(30)

“Then what’s the problem?”

He shrugged. “I dunno. I guess, it’s just the idea of her getting serious about anyone.”

“Spoken like a true commitment phobe,” I murmured.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I think we both know you don’t do the relationship scene, so you don’t want your sister to do it either.”

“That’s so not true.”

“Which part? The one about Neely or yourself?”

“I do relationships.”

“Oh really? You certainly weren’t interested in doing one with me.” I blurted before I could stop myself.

“Yeah, well you were different,” he replied.

“Fine then. Name the last girl you dated for over a month.” Maddox’s brows furrowed as silence hung heavy in the room. “Okay, I’ll go easy on you. Name a girl you went out with for at least two weeks?”

“It’s not a fair question since I’ve been away from home the last few years,” he argued.

“All right then. What about high school?”

He turned to glower at me. “Fine. You’re right. I don’t do relationships. Happy now?”

“Not really.”

“And why’s that?”

“Everyone should have someone special in his or her life.”

“Oh, don’t worry. There’s been lots of special someone’s over the years,” he said, wagging his brows.

I rolled my eyes. “That’s not what I mean, and you know it.”

He grinned. “Is this conversation making you uncomfortable?”

“Probably about as uncomfortable as you are with anything emotional,” I countered.

“Touché, princess.” He rose up off the couch and glanced at his watch. “Damn. It’s almost eleven.”

Warily, I stared past him to the bedroom and the infamous mirror on the ceiling. “Um, just exactly how are we handling the sleeping arrangements? I mean, should I go sleep in the guest room?”

“No, I think we need to sleep out here. We should be close to the doors just in case we need to get the hell out of Dodge.”

“Sounds good to me.”

He leaned over and took his pistol out of his bag. He checked the chamber before laying it down on the coffee table. When he caught me eyeing it, he said, “That’s for you.”

“Seriously?”

“I’ll keep mine under the pillow.”

I motioned to the oversized throw pillow with its out-of-control lace and beading. “There’s something kinda odd about keeping a gun under that.”

He snickered. “Tell me about it.”

“I guess you’ll take the couch?”

“Duh, I am taller than you.”

“Fine. I can sleep here,” I said, sinking down on the loveseat.

After Maddox plopped down on the couch, he plumped up the pillow a few times before turning on his side. Unfortunately he came face to face with my feet. He grimaced as he surveyed some of the calluses and blisters. “Jesus, ever hear of a pedicure?”

“For your information, those are caused by toe shoes. Every ballet dancer has really crappy looking feet.”

“Don’t they have something you can put on them? I mean, even in the Army, they teach us about jungle rot and trench foot.”

“Yes, there are exercises we can do and putting tape on them helps. But sometimes they still look like that.”

“It must hurt like hell to dance.”

I shrugged. “Using Orajel to numb them while you’re dancing really helps to cut the pain.”

“Dude, I can’t imagine twirling around like that on my freakin’ toes for hours on end.”

“Yeah, well, I can’t imagine you twirling period.”

Maddox chuckled. “Nope. Me neither.” He nudged my foot playfully. “You know, I went to one of your performances once.”

I rose up on my elbows to stare at him. “You did?”

“Yeah.”

“But when? Which one?” I blurted.

“The Nutcracker when I was home on leave this past year.”

I shook my head. “I can’t believe it. You always hated ballet. You used to say you’d only ever watch it if you were drunk or comatose.”

A sly grin slunk across his face. “Trust me, I still hate it. But I had some time to kill, and each and every time I talked to Maudie, she bragged to me about the important role you’d scored playing this fairy—”

“The Rose Fairy,” I interrupted.

“Whatever. Anyway, I thought I was going to die during the first act. I probably checked my phone and email a thousand times. And then you came out.” He shook his head. “I was mesmerized.”

My heart jumped into my throat. “You were?”

“I couldn’t imagine how you did all that on your toes and shit. I about freaked out when those pansies in tights started throwing you around.”

I gigged. “They’re called lifts, not throwing. And trust me, they’re not pansies. You should see the muscle tone they have.”

Maddox wrinkled his nose. “I was too distracted by the way their tights highlighted their…you know, …” he motioned toward to his crotch, “packages.”