Thrown Down (Made in Jersey #2)(45)

River glanced through the windshield with a dazed smile. “Wow. The factory is going to be guarded by ex-military. Can’t say we won’t be safe.”

Instead of laughing, the way she’d hoped, Vaughn’s jaw went tight. “Not like before, right? When you were working in that shit stack during the day and coming home in the pitch black—alone—after serving drinks in the bar. You weren’t safe then, were you, Riv?”

She slowly took her hand back. “Why are you bringing this up now?” Her sternum ached, as if she’d been struck by a fastball, right in the center. “I thought we were moving past this—”

“Sometimes the past doesn’t let you off that easy,” he gritted out. In the backseat, Marcy started crying, and Vaughn’s face paled, his attention flying to the rearview mirror. “I thought she was asleep, I—”

“It’s fine,” River interrupted, her own irritation rising. She took off her seat belt, turning around in the passenger seat on her knees. All was well as soon as she handed Marcy a juice box, but Vaughn? Not so much. His eyes were back on the road, harder to read than before. And it speared her with dread. Had he changed his mind about them getting back together? She didn’t think it possible, not after the bond they’d proven last night was still undeniably intact. But…what if she was wrong?

In that moment of doubt, River learned something about herself. The possibility of Vaughn having second thoughts didn’t make her want to fall down, dissolving into a puddle of tears, like the girl she’d been at twenty-two. No, it made her want to fight. For them? Yes. Just not that second. She was too pissed off at having their trip brought to a crappy end. For having her fear of Vaughn leaving tugged to the surface. And most of all for the reminder how quickly he could still make her insecure with his silence.

As soon as Vaughn pulled the Pontiac to a stop, River pushed open her door, slammed it, and hit the sidewalk, taking Marcy out of her car seat with a smile she hoped was patient and unfazed. Yeah, right.

“Hey,” Vaughn said from behind her, having the absolute nerve to sound baffled. “What are you stomping around about?”

She took a deep breath and faced Vaughn, forcing herself to keep her voice down. “I want you to leave. Now, please.”

His hands went to his hips, dark eyebrows drawing together. “Why is that?”

“Because you’re being a jerk,” she responded succinctly. “And you’re not going to talk about why. You’re just going to stew. Or be cryptic and says things like, ‘sometimes the past doesn’t let you off that easy, little lady.’” He narrowed his eyes at the way River mimicked his deep voice, but she didn’t give him time to respond. “Well, no kidding. No kidding. Don’t talk to me like I haven’t figured that out.”

He took a step closer. “Doll—”

“Oh no. Don’t doll me.” She put up a hand, halting his progress in her direction. “You want to be a part of us? Stop being such a mystery. There’s no room for that here. We need to be on the same page to be a team, like we spoke about. So until you get there? Please. Leave.”

“Not leaving when you’re this mad.” He scratched the side of his stubbled jaw, running his gaze up and down her body. “Actually, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this mad.”

“If you tell me it’s turning you on, I’m going to slug you right in the stomach.”

“All right,” he said, voice getting harder. “I won’t tell you. But you should know I’m thinking it.”

River’s foot ached with the need to stomp. She and Vaughn were squared off, having moved closer when she obviously hadn’t been paying attention. Dammit, she hated that the argument was only half the reason her blood grew hot, her skin turning sensitive beneath the dress she wore. Beneath his white shirt, she could make out the outline of the unrefined tattoo forming her name and longed to trace it with her fingertips, kiss each letter. God. How could she want to scratch his eyes out and jump him at the same time?

“They’re back!”

The familiar voice caught River and Vaughn off guard, both of them twisting in the newcomer’s direction. Half a block down, Duke’s four sisters were headed in their direction, waving with their free hands, the other hands holding bags from the local toy store.

“What is happening here?” Vaughn muttered the question on River’s mind, just as Marcy started to kick up a fuss for being left in her car seat too long. Automatically, River went to work, freeing the three-year-old and setting her on the sidewalk, which set off a fit of squealing from the sister posse now even with River’s front yard.

“Duke said you ought to be home about now.”

“Just stopping by with a few things for the little one.”

“Lisa cuts hair. Does the kid need a haircut? She brought her scissors. Good ones. You can’t get them just anywhere.”

“How was traffic?”

No one waited for an answer to that last question, all four sisters hustling a dazzled—and somewhat dazed—Marcy inside, somehow knowing exactly where River hid the spare key inside the decorative lantern arrangement.

After a moment River looked at Vaughn. “What just happened?”

A corner of his mouth edged up. “I think Duke needed to watch SportsCenter.”