Three Broken Promises (One Week Girlfriend #3)(50)

“I just . . . I can’t worry about that right now, Colin,” I whisper, wishing he would stop talking. The last thing I need right now is a lecture. And I can feel one coming on, along with a massive headache. “Please just let me sit here and be quiet for a little bit.”

“Fine,” he bites out, sounding irritated but I don’t care. He’s not the one who was just robbed. I know he’s worried about me, but I wish he would just . . . lay off for a second.

I know I should be appreciative of him going into his usual protector mode but for whatever reason, I’m beyond irritated, sick of him always running to my rescue, always trying to tell me what to do.

I’m probably being completely irrational, but seeing him yet again trying to take care of me, take over me really, only proves how badly I need to get away from him. Despite the connection we have, the amazing sex . . . it won’t last. He doesn’t stick.

And neither do I.

The rest of the quick drive home is quiet, and I escape into the house from the garage as soon as he cuts the car’s engine. I have no purse, which means the jackass who took it stole a bunch of my makeup, Colin’s house key, my cell, and my wallet. And again, I can’t help but remember how fat it had been with my night’s tips.

I know Colin is right and I should at least call my bank, but I’m too exhausted to even scrub the makeup off my face, let alone make an actual phone call.

I can barely think and act like a normal human being. I’m in full-blown zombie mode as I move through the house, my brain blank, my body taking me where I need to go like I’m on autopilot.

Entering my room, I flick on the lights and stare at my reflection in the mirror that hangs over the dresser. My cheeks are streaked with mascara-stained tears that I don’t even remember crying. My face is swollen, my eyes are bloodshot, and I look terrible.

Great.

Looking down, I see that the hem of my dress is torn and my knees are still bloody and scraped. With a sigh, I head into the bathroom to clean up my wounds, but Colin is already in there, searching through the drawers until he comes up with antibiotic cream and Band-Aids.

I watch him from where I stand in the doorway, both loathing and appreciating his effort to take care of me in every way he can. I should be touched that he would do all of this, as though he’s my big brother or something. My champion, my knight in shining armor coming to rescue me on his mighty steed.

“Let me help you,” he says the moment he notices me standing there watching him. “Come here.”

I walk inside the small bathroom and sit on the toilet seat, my skirt rising up and revealing my bloodied knees. He finds a clean washcloth in a drawer and dampens it with cool water under the faucet, then gently presses it to my left knee.

Wincing, I hiss in a breath, surprised at how much the scrape hurts. Colin dabs at my skin, his brows furrowed as he studies my knee.

“You have bits of rock in this one,” he says as he reaches out with his other hand and carefully flicks them away. “Doesn’t look serious, though.”

“It hurts,” I murmur, hating how pitiful I sound.

“Sorry.” He flashes me a tight, sympathetic smile. “Your knees will look like hell for about a week with the bandages on them, but hey, maybe you could start a new trend.” He’s trying to joke, to lighten the moment as he dabs the antibiotic cream on my knee and then places a Band-Aid on the wound, but it’s not working.

“What sort of trend would that be?” I ask once he starts in on my other knee. “Hold-up Chic?”

He shoots me a look but never lets up on his tending of my other knee. His touch is so gentle, the look on his face equally so, and watching him fills me with both pleasure and sadness. It makes no sense, the confusion swirling in my brain. Why do I resent Colin for wanting to take care of me? I should be appreciative. I should hug him and thank him for being there for me in my time of need.

Instead, I say nothing. Because I always seem to have a time of need. And he always seems to be right there for me. Saving me.

I’m starting to hate it.

This knee isn’t as bad as the other one and he takes quick care of it, bandaging me up and declaring me fixed with the tiniest smile.

I don’t have the heart to tell him I feel more broken than ever.

Chapter 16

Jen

“I’m firing the security company,” Colin announces the moment I shuffle into the kitchen.

Stopping short, I study him through bleary eyes, deciding it’s a crime for a man to wake up first thing in the morning looking so damn good. Wearing nothing but a pair of black-and-gray flannel pajama pants that hang indecently low on his hips, revealing all that smooth muscled skin I’m itching to touch, he’s making coffee and acting super efficient.

“Why are you firing the security company?” I ask as I sit at the small kitchen table, my movements careful. My body aches and my knees still hurt. As I inhale deeply, the scent of rich, fragrant coffee slowly wakes up my murky brain.

He keeps his back to me, his pants falling even lower when he reaches into the cabinet above him and pulls out two coffee mugs. I see a tan line, and immediately think of how I had my hands all over the area south of it just yesterday morning. My cheeks flush hot with a mixture of embarrassment and arousal, and my body’s tingling in all the right places.

Needless to say, nothing happened between us last night. I’d gone to sleep in my bed, and he’d gone to sleep in his. I woke up in the middle of the night to hear him yelling something unintelligible, but I didn’t go to him. And the yelling stopped as soon as it started, so I can only hope the dreams weren’t too bad.