Draw (Gentry Boys #1)(15)

Cord laughed. “You want a nice girl, you gotta be a nice guy.”

Chase paused next to the couch and raised an eyebrow in my direction. “You’re one to f*cking talk, Romeo.”

I winced into my coffee cup as Cord shot me a quick glance.

“Guess I asked for that,” he muttered, shaking his head.

He drummed his fingers on his lap and for the first time I noticed the cuts on his broad knuckles. The skin appeared somewhat bruised as well. I pointed. “Did you get in a fight?”

Cord smiled vaguely. “You could call it that if you want.”

“What would you call it?”

“Work.”

“I don’t get it.”

“Do you need to?”

“Well, were you in a fight or weren’t you?”

He glanced at Creed, who was listening to us with interest. “Sort of,” he said cagily.

I felt oddly annoyed. “Sort of? Did you ‘sort of’ ball up your fist and hit someone with it or not?”

His eyes flashed with irritation. “None of your damn business, Saylor.”

I almost answered with a smart remark but stopped. He was correct, it was none of my business. And who was I to judge when I’d stuck around in the bed of a monster?

“You’re right,” I swallowed.

“Hey,” he reached a hand out and lightly touched my knee. I was embarrassed to realize that a brief touch from him did something to me. “It’s all right, Say. Look, I didn’t mean to come off like such an ass.”

I rose stiffly off the couch. “No, Cord. You’ve been really decent. But I think I need to get out of your way now.”

He didn’t argue or protest that I wasn’t in the way at all. As I neatly folded his quilt I saw where his eyes were looking and glanced down. In the harsh light of morning my nipples were plainly evident through the tight tee shirt. I hunched over, feeling a tad humiliated.

Cord smiled at my discomfort but didn’t redirect his gaze.

“Nice,” I scolded, pulling on my sweatshirt.

“I agree,” he shrugged with infuriating coolness. “But the temp is already ninety in the shade. Might be easier to do like other girls and wear a bra.”

“Crap,” I said, thinking of something. I grabbed my duffel bag and rifled around for a minute.

“What’s wrong?”

I kicked the bag. “I don’t have any.”

He looked at me blankly.

“Bras!” I shouted. “I packed about sixteen pairs of panties and no bras.”

Creed chuckled from the kitchen.

“I was in kind of a rush,” I grumbled, finding a black tank top and pulling it on right over my shirt.

“Well then,” grinned Cord as he crossed one leg over the opposite knee, “I guess you’re up shit’s creek, honey. I mean it’s not like we have any stores around here.”

I glared at him. “Give me a f*cking break, would you?”

He watched me quietly for a minute and then went to the kitchen. He pulled something out of the freezer and brought it to me.

“It’s meat,” I observed.

“I should have thought of this last night,” he said. “Stop moving. Just hold this to your face for a bit. Even all these hours later it might reduce the swelling a little.”

“Oh,” I said weakly, sitting down with a frozen New York strip against my jaw. “Does it really look that bad?”

“It doesn’t look good,” he said honestly.

Creed spoke up. “I’m glad you broke the son of a bitch.”

I smiled but Cord looked troubled. He took his phone from his back pocket and pointed it at me.

“Put the meat down for a second.”

I was confused. “Why?”

“Because if you really broke his arm he’s liable to file assault charges on you.”

“What?” I exclaimed. “He is going to file charges on me?”

“Don’t be surprised,” Cord muttered, snapping a series of photos of my damaged face. “If he does, you’ll need to prove it was self-defense.”

“Self—defense,” I shook my head. “Yeah, that’s what it was.”

Cord put his phone down. “Saylor?”

I looked at him. He seemed hesitant to say whatever he was thinking.

“Do you need to talk to someone?” he asked. “You know, about what happened to you?”

“I did. I told you what happened.”

“No,” he sat down next to me. “I mean someone who can maybe help you deal with it all.”

“I’m dealing,” I muttered, holding the icy meat against my skin again.

“Are you?”

“Yeah, Cord. I can handle it. I’m not the first girl to wind up beaten and raped by a guy she thought loved her. I don’t want to sit on a couch and surgically extract all the psychological horrors. I don’t want to write bad poetry about it and revel in my fear. A few minutes ago you told me something was none of my goddamn business. Well, this is none of yours.”

I didn’t realize how shrill I’d become until I heard my own gasp of hysteria. I took a deep breath and tried to calm down. Creed was still in the kitchen, standing at the counter and looking for all the world like he’d rather be anywhere else. Cord was quiet. I snuck a glance at him and couldn’t read his stoic expression.