Watch Me Fall (Ross Siblings, #5)(5)

“Maybe.” She sighed.

“Is there a friend you can stay with?”

“I have a roommate.”

“Is that enough?”

“I’m sure it is.”

“Don’t be too proud to tell someone if you need help. You shouldn’t have to handle these things by yourself.”

“Far too many people know too much about my business. It’s embarrassing, and it’s my own fault for letting them in. Better to start shutting them out than showing them what new lows I can reach.”

“Yeah, but if this guy might hurt you—”

“Max is more bark than bite.”

“He was enough bite that you made him put you out on a dirt road in the middle of nowhere. What would you really have done if I hadn’t come along?”

Her voice sharpened, defensiveness rising. “I guess I would be walking.”

“Lucky for you I live out that way. And I’m pretty sure I know where he was going to party, and it’s nowhere I’d ever want to hang out.”

“I hang out there all the time.”

He clamped his mouth shut on a retort. If she did, then Macy probably did too. The music and shouting and craziness that wafted up to his house every other weekend from that place had brought him out on the porch more than once, contemplating driving down there to shoot out their speakers and tell them to shut the hell up. It bothered him most when his daughters were home, though, and he couldn’t very well do that with them around.

And now he’d obviously insulted Starla, so he let the conversation drop while she directed him through a few more turns, finally pulling to a stop in front of a simple A-frame house in a cul-de-sac. “I so appreciate you picking me up,” she said at last, after the truck had idled for a few seconds with neither of them speaking or moving. “Really, you have no idea how much. Hell, I probably couldn’t have walked all that way. I’m really not trying to be a bitch, but I’ve got it handled from here. All right?”

He couldn’t help but smile at the determined little jut of her chin, but it chilled on his face at the thought of someone hurting her. “Do me one favor, at least?”

Starla’s eyes met his in the dimness. He didn’t know why, but something seemed to take her aback the moment their gazes touched. Her eyes widened, the lashes so long they cast shadows on her cheeks. “Wh— um. Ahem. What?”

“Not that you would, but don’t go out with that guy again. For any reason.”

“No, no, I wouldn’t. Ever. Promise.” A nervous laugh flitted from her lips, then she collected her destroyed phone and turned for the door. One thing he could say about her: from her physical adornments to her attitude, she was certainly unlike any woman he’d ever been around.

Jared watched her climb carefully down from his truck, fighting the odd sense of regret at seeing her leave. Unfortunately, it won, forcing his mouth into motion again. “Do you need help getting your purse back?”

“No, thanks!” She slammed the door and scurried up to her front porch, hair twinkling incredibly in the security lights, without a single glance back. He watched while she banged on the door, while someone inside opened it, while she disappeared inside. Closing him out.

Damn.

That had been weird.





Chapter Three

Jared Stanton had the bluest f*cking eyes she’d ever seen.

Even in his truck where it had been dark, she could tell. The overhead lights had caught them, making the color explode. Blue, painfully blue, blue as the damn springtime sky outside. She’d seen that color in her dreams all night, blue eyes, first Jared’s and then the cruel icy glint of Max’s and then— “Holy f*ck! You look like shit, dude!”

Ghost’s jubilant observation snatched Starla out of her reverie, and she snapped to attention as Brian Ross strolled yawning through the front door of Dermamania. What the hell was he doing here? After staring dumbfounded at him for a few seconds, she voiced that question.

“Someone’s got to keep you slackers in line.” He bumped fists with Ghost and turned his megawatt grin on Starla. She hadn’t seen him in so long, it was like a drop of cool water on a parched tongue, but immediately, she saw what Ghost meant. Poor guy looked like he hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in…well, three weeks. Which was the exact amount of time that had passed since Brian’s wife, Candace, gave birth to their son, Lyric.

Of course, the lack of rest hadn’t diminished his appeal at all.

Or dulled the blue of his eyes.

His olive skin was without blemish except for the slight shadowing under his eyes, his black hair as lustrous as usual if a tad longer and messier. He did look tired, he did look sleepy, but he looked happy. He looked at peace with the world, like he had all of it in the palm of his hand at last. Which was all she’d ever wanted for him.

She wanted to give him a hug. That was what a friend would do. That was what she’d done dozens, hell, hundreds of times before. But each one seemed to hurt more than the last, and she didn’t know how much more she could take, how much longer she could keep up the charade.

And she had to keep it up. It was either keep it up or leave.

“Why didn’t you bring the kid?” Ghost was asking.

Brian scoffed. “Please. Let’s shelter him from you as long as possible.”