Watch Me Fall (Ross Siblings, #5)(34)
As expected, her face fell, her gaze straying to some vague point high over his left shoulder. “I don’t know. I really don’t. So far it’s just nasty texts and flowers. But—”
“Nasty texts?”
“You know, like talking dirty. His lame attempt to turn me on, I guess, which did not work. What exactly are you suggesting?”
“Whatever you need, Starla. Say the word.”
She cocked a taupe eyebrow at him. “I’m not exactly ready to put a hit on him.”
“Shit,” he laughed. “I wasn’t talking about murder. But I will have a nice little chat with him, or employ certain ass-kicking methods, if the need arises.”
“You’re pretty confident.”
“I’ve held my own in a few scraps, yeah.”
Her gaze dropped from his and did a quick sweep, taking in the width of his shoulders. He had to say, he liked to see those eyes dancing over him. He liked the appreciative twinkle in them even more. “I bet,” she said.
“Honestly, most guys like that are total chickenshits. They prey on women because they’re too afraid to pick on someone their own size.”
“Well.” She sniffed. “No one is preying on me.”
He supposed he’d struck a nerve with that wording, and she might try to deny it now, but he wondered at what the future might hold if she didn’t set this creep straight now. Not later, not after he’d shown up at her house or her job or sabotaged her car or something like that.
“When Shelly was in high school,” he told her after a moment’s debate, “she had a stalker. It started out with things like Max is doing to you, but it got so bad she had to go to her parents and school officials, alert the authorities, all that. She got lucky. He had some unrelated outstanding warrants, so the cops picked him up on Shelly’s tip and sent him off for a few years. Not long enough, though. Once he got out on parole four years later, he saw her around town and it started up again, only this time more threatening. Now he blamed her for his getting sent to prison. She and I had just gotten engaged and she was pregnant with the girls when that happened.”
Starla was listening with rapt attention. “What did you do?”
He shrugged. “Nothing to get my hands dirty, though I wanted to. I had a little chat with the guy’s parole officer. Before long, they’d snatched him up on drug possession and his parole was revoked, and I’m sure that’s because his parole officer had been all over his ass after my visit.”
“You know what sucks about that whole thing?” Starla said. “Not a damn thing was done to that asshat over what he did to Shelly. It was all unrelated stuff. That’s such bullshit. She didn’t get her justice for being terrorized.”
“It’s like you said earlier. Their hands are tied until he actually does something to you.” He gave her a level stare. “I’m telling you, don’t let it go that far. Come to me, go to your friends, let someone know.”
She waved a hand in the air. “I’m sure it won’t. I’m ignoring him completely. He’ll get bored and move on.”
“Starla—”
“I don’t want to talk about him anymore.” Her voice rang with steely determination. “Okay?”
“Okay.” Jared fell silent, though questions still boiled feverishly in his head. If she ever confessed to Max hurting her, hitting her or otherwise, he wouldn’t need her permission. He would whip the cowardly little prick’s ass. Damn the consequences.
And…had she slept with him? The mention of dirty text messages had sent a jolt of alarm through Jared. It was none of his business, of course, and he would never even dream of asking. But he hated the thought that she might have given herself to someone so undeserving of that particular honor.
“I don’t mean to be rude,” she told him. She crossed her long legs and rested her elbows on her knees. “I heard…” Her voice trailed away, and something changed about her expression. Hurt crept into her brown eyes, stealing the twinkle that had been there for him. “I was indirectly informed the other day that I talk a lot about my problems. I really appreciate you having me over, and I feel pretty good tonight. It’s the best I’ve felt in a while. I don’t want to fu—um, don’t want to mess that up by talking too much about him.”
“You know you don’t have to censor yourself with me.”
“I know.”
It was hard to imagine Starla looking bashful, but she was pulling it off right now. A hint of pink stained her cheeks, and she absently picked at the fingernail tipping one long, graceful, silver-ringed finger. “But?” he prodded, desperate to follow where she was leading with this. She looked as if she had much more to say.
“You’ve been so great to me, and I feel like I’ve been nothing but a foul-mouthed drag every time we’ve seen each other.”
“Not at all. Don’t think that. You can talk to me about any damn thing you need to, and I’ll listen. I’ll even shut up, if you need me to, and let you do all the talking.”
Her brown eyes searched his, though he wondered what she looked for there. Insincerity? He meant every word. Jared didn’t know why this girl had touched him so, but she had. Maybe something in her called to his primal, overprotective tendencies—and God knew he had those—but it was more than that. He wanted to see everything work out for her, yes, and he itched to fix her problems if she’d let him. It ran deeper than those urges. She told him things she’d told no one else. She trusted him that much though she barely knew him, and Jared would bet the farm Starla wasn’t the kind of girl who gave trust easily. He’d bet that her lifestyle—her partying and her impossible crushes and her habit of hooking up with the wrong guys—was all about one thing: keeping people at arm’s length.