The Bully (Calamity Montana #4)(64)

“Nothing.” I smiled wider.

“Nellie.”

I shook my head, tucking my chin to watch the baby so he wouldn’t see the tears in my eyes. Two fortifying breaths and I raised my face, shoulders back, chin held high.

Never let them see you hurting.

It had taken a couple of years to grow a thick skin, but that had been my motto junior and senior year at Benton. I hadn’t really shed the layers since.

“I’m good.” I turned my attention through the windows.

Cal was smiling down at Harry as she lifted her water to him, asking for him to twist open the top. One fast swoop and it was off. Then he patted her shoulder with a teasing grin stretched across his mouth.

She elbowed him in the thigh, making the whole table laugh.

Cal tried to disguise it with a glower but he adored Harry. He treasured Elias. He’d die for Pierce.

Why did he let these other people in? Why did he show them his heart? Yet I was just the woman warming his bed?

I was just the woman who hated him.

Like he could sense my stare, he glanced up, staring at me through the window. Was that how it would always be between us? Always a barrier? Always a distance?

“Why don’t you put her in the swing in the living room?” Pierce asked, nodding that direction. “We’ll hear her if she cries. Then you can eat while the burgers are hot.”

“Okay.” The strength to keep myself together was beginning to fail, so I retreated to the swing, strapping Constance into the cradle and setting it to a gentle sway. But instead of eating, I disappeared down the hallway for the closest bathroom.

The moment the door clicked shut behind me, the tears burst past the dam. One burned hot down my cheek before I could squeeze my eyes shut. I wiped my cheek dry, dragging in a burning breath, then another before facing myself in the mirror.

“Why him?” I asked my reflection.

The sad woman on the other side of the glass had no answer.

A sob escaped, and I slapped a hand over my mouth. The door’s knob turned and then there he was, the subject of my heartache.

“Ever heard of knocking?” I asked, my voice shaky.

Cal eased his large body into the bathroom while I turned on the faucet, letting my hair fall forward to shield my face.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing.”

He reached around me, touching the tip of my nose. “Your nose twitches when you lie.”

“No, it doesn’t.” Yes, it did. My mother’s did the same.

Cal shut off the water, then took my shoulders and turned me away from the mirror, studying my face. “Nell.”

“Don’t.” The concern in his voice and in his sparkling eyes would snap the thread I was desperately trying to hold.

His hands shifted to my face, cupping my jaw.

“Don’t.” I glared up at him. Where was the man who’d fight me at every turn? The man who’d make fun of my hair or clothes. The man who’d call me a secretary. That was the Cal I needed in this bathroom.

“Stop.” He sighed, then dropped his lips to mine.

Damn him for kissing me.

Damn me for kissing him back.

Rising on my toes, I stroked my tongue along his lower lip, hoping to spur him on. Hoping that if I pushed him enough, we’d strip each other down and he’d fuck me in this bathroom. Then I could use sex to put up a barrier.

Except he wasn’t playing, not today. Normally I could count on him to take the lead, but he pulled away, his lips wet. The concern still etched on his face. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” I waved him off, spinning out of his hold for the sink. I gave myself a moment to stare at the handcrafted bar of soap on a stone dish. When I looked up, Cal’s gaze was waiting through the mirror.

It begged for the truth.

And I didn’t have the energy to hide it. Not anymore.

“Why do you let them in and not me?” I whispered.

“Because you hate me.”

“Do I?”

He swallowed hard. “You need to hate me. It’s better that way.”

Better. Because then he could use me when he needed to get laid. Because if I hated him, he could stay behind his walls where it was safe. Where he’d open the door to certain people, but I was not one of the chosen few.

It was high school all over again, and I was still the outcast.

“I hate that you’re a coward.” I stood straighter, watching through the mirror as my words hit their mark.

“Yep.” He nodded and put on that impassive face I’d seen for years.

“I hate that you’re a fraud.”

He nodded again.

“I hate that you made me not hate you.” My nose began to sting as angry tears warned. I needed to get the hell out of this bathroom. “Get out of my way.”

He dropped his chin, shuffling backward two steps, giving me enough space to escape.

I slipped through the house and snuck out the front door, rushing to my car parked in the driveway. A row of vehicles bordered the private lane as I sped away from the house. Sheer disappointment—in Cal, in myself—kept the tears at bay.

How could I have been so stupid?

I pounded my fist on the steering wheel at the turn onto the highway. I’d let myself cry when I got home. I’d ugly cry my makeup off. No one was there to hear. No one was there to care.