Dead by Midnight - Beverly Barton [66]
She didn’t want him there, didn’t want him standing guard over her house, over her. Damn him, why couldn’t he just go away and leave her alone? She didn’t need him. Didn’t want him.
Liar!
Securing the tie belt of her robe around her waist, Lorie opened her bedroom door and tiptoed down the hall. Before she reached the living room, Shelley called to her.
“Lorie? Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. Just restless. Go back to sleep.”
“If you’re up, I’m up.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to disturb you.”
Wearing a pair of gray sweatpants and an oversized Georgia Bulldogs T-shirt, Shelley walked toward Lorie.
“Mike’s outside,” Lorie said.
“He’s been there all night.”
“I’m going out there to tell him to go home.”
“I can do that for you.”
“No. I want to talk to him.”
Shelley nodded. “I’ll disarm the alarm system and watch you until you reach his truck.”
“Thanks.”
For a few seconds, Mike thought he was hallucinating. He had been thinking about Lorie, remembering how it had once been between them, worrying about the danger she was now in, wishing he could erase every bad thing that had ever happened to her. And now here she was walking down the sidewalk, coming straight toward his truck. As she approached, he debated whether to open the door and step outside to meet her or just wait for her.
He waited.
She pecked on the window. He rolled down the window and looked at her.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, her tone none too friendly.
“It’s not even four o’clock yet.” He answered her with a question. “What are you doing up at this time of the morning?”
“We need to talk.”
“Do we?”
“Unlock the passenger-side door,” she told him.
“Okay.”
She rounded the truck’s hood, opened the door, and climbed into the cab. Turning sideways, she faced him. He laid his arm across the back of the seat, his hand almost touching her shoulder.
“Shelley told me that you’ve been parked out here all night.”
“She’s right. I have.”
“Why?”
“Why what?” he asked.
“I have a private bodyguard. I don’t need you hovering over me.”
“I’m not hovering. You were inside. I was outside. Plenty of distance between us. You’re the one who knocked on my door and invaded my space.”
“Don’t do this,” she told him. “Don’t blow hot and cold. It’s not fair to me. It took me a long, long time to accept the fact that we could never be anything to each other ever again, not even friends. Your concern for me now is sending me mixed signals. I can’t handle that.”
“I’m sorry. It was never my intention to—”
“To feel sorry for me, to show me a little human kindness.”
“To confuse you,” he corrected.
“Well, I am confused. Not just about you, but about me, and about this whole damn mess that my life has become.”
Unable to stop himself, he moved his hand a couple of inches until he touched her shoulder. Apparently taken off guard, she jumped and then went rigid. Their gazes met there in the semidark interior of the truck cab, which was illuminated only by the moonlight.
“I don’t want anything bad to happen to you,” he said. “I keep hurting you even though I don’t mean to…not anymore. I—I guess if I’m completely honest, I have to admit that I’m confused, too. I’ve hated you for such a long time. Now…”
“Now?”
“Now I don’t know for sure, except I know I want to keep you safe. I want to protect you from the person who’s threatened to kill you, from guys like Ryan Bonner, from the censor of every narrow-minded prude in Dunmore.”
She sat there staring at him, her eyes wide with wonder, her mouth slightly parted. “You have a hero complex, you know that, don’t you?”
He chuckled. “Yeah, I guess I do. I used to be your hero, didn’t I?”
When he squeezed her shoulder, she scooted closer and reached up to lay her hand over his.
“Once upon a time…” Her voice trailed off to a whisper. “You were everything to me, my hero, my lover