“No, you should find someone who won’t cause you to need it.”
She sucked in a breath. “How…how did you know?”
“Because the only time I ever see you give in the way you are now is when some asshole has treated you bad.” He took her hand in his and tugged. “Come on, let’s see how much damage you’ve done. Can you stand?”
She tore her gaze away from him, guilt squeezing her lungs. She always let him take care of her. However this time, she was embarrassed by what he saw in her. She was a gullible fool, and she wished she didn’t deserve his pity.
She tried to pull her fingers free, but he wouldn’t let go . “I’ll be fine, really. I’m sure you have better things to do than stand around here and watch me make an ass of myself.”
“Nope, not really.” He helped her to her feet
Pain shot up her leg, and she yelped, her ankle giving out. Scooping her up in his arms, Andy climbed the steps to her back porch. Her keys jangled in his hand—when he’d picked them up, she hadn’t seen. A moment later, he had the door open and headed toward the living room.
Sitting on the couch first, he settled her on his lap. “Your skirt is all muddy. Wouldn’t want to get your couch dirty. Take a breath then we’ll get you patched up. I’ll even share the Shrimp Ettouffe I brought home from the restaurant.”
Shame scrabbled to clutch her throat. He was being too kind to her. Again . Shaking her head, she tried to blink away the tears, tried to erase the callous remarks Ben had said the day she’d left. But being in Andy’s arms brought everything missing in her life to the forefront. It wasn’t fair. “I’m barely hanging on here.”
“You’re doing fine, honey. Let it go. I’ll be right here till the flood passes.”
That was all it took. She buried her face in his chest, sob after sob quaking through her. True to his word, he held her tight through the torrent of tears. When at last she lifted her head, she stared at his handsome face. Why were all the guys like him so unattainable to her? Why couldn’t she find an Andy for herself?
Chapter Three
After tossing and turning half the night, getting about two hours of sleep , Andy crawled out of bed and dragged himself into the shower. But the hot spray did nothing to take his mind off the woman he’d been twisting himself inside out over for better than a year.
Calista owned his heart. She had from the day he’d moved in next door and saw her on her porch rocking in an old wooden chair swing. Abandoning her books, she’d come over to help, and he’d been blown away by the smile on her face and bright glint in her eyes. God, he’d wanted to ask her out right then, take her to some local place for dinner to say thanks for all her help. But while they’d carried boxes into his living room, she’d mentioned the guy she was seeing at that time—the guy she had a date with later that evening. The guy who’d taken her to a cheap motel, rolled her in the sheets, and promptly disappeared the next day. Afterward, she’d put on a brave face, but her furrowed brow and sunken eyes had told of her pain. Andy grimaced. The whole thing still pissed him off.
Over the past year and a half, he’d watched her smile slip and the light burn out. He wanted nothing more than to show her what love could really be. He ached to hold her in his arms at night and be the one she woke up to every morning. But he’d known from the very first day, he wasn’t the kind of man she was looking for.
She liked the bad boys—basically, assholes who held an air of excitement or mystery, or whatever the hell made them attractive, but refused to settle down. So, he’d silently watched her get her heart broken over and over and offered her his shoulder to cry on when one after the other crushed her dreams.
He slicked the soap over his skin, letting his hand rest on the raging hard-on he’d had since he left her the night before.
She wasn’t a stupid girl, far
She sucked in a breath. “How…how did you know?”
“Because the only time I ever see you give in the way you are now is when some asshole has treated you bad.” He took her hand in his and tugged. “Come on, let’s see how much damage you’ve done. Can you stand?”
She tore her gaze away from him, guilt squeezing her lungs. She always let him take care of her. However this time, she was embarrassed by what he saw in her. She was a gullible fool, and she wished she didn’t deserve his pity.
She tried to pull her fingers free, but he wouldn’t let go . “I’ll be fine, really. I’m sure you have better things to do than stand around here and watch me make an ass of myself.”
“Nope, not really.” He helped her to her feet
Pain shot up her leg, and she yelped, her ankle giving out. Scooping her up in his arms, Andy climbed the steps to her back porch. Her keys jangled in his hand—when he’d picked them up, she hadn’t seen. A moment later, he had the door open and headed toward the living room.
Sitting on the couch first, he settled her on his lap. “Your skirt is all muddy. Wouldn’t want to get your couch dirty. Take a breath then we’ll get you patched up. I’ll even share the Shrimp Ettouffe I brought home from the restaurant.”
Shame scrabbled to clutch her throat. He was being too kind to her. Again . Shaking her head, she tried to blink away the tears, tried to erase the callous remarks Ben had said the day she’d left. But being in Andy’s arms brought everything missing in her life to the forefront. It wasn’t fair. “I’m barely hanging on here.”
“You’re doing fine, honey. Let it go. I’ll be right here till the flood passes.”
That was all it took. She buried her face in his chest, sob after sob quaking through her. True to his word, he held her tight through the torrent of tears. When at last she lifted her head, she stared at his handsome face. Why were all the guys like him so unattainable to her? Why couldn’t she find an Andy for herself?
Chapter Three
After tossing and turning half the night, getting about two hours of sleep , Andy crawled out of bed and dragged himself into the shower. But the hot spray did nothing to take his mind off the woman he’d been twisting himself inside out over for better than a year.
Calista owned his heart. She had from the day he’d moved in next door and saw her on her porch rocking in an old wooden chair swing. Abandoning her books, she’d come over to help, and he’d been blown away by the smile on her face and bright glint in her eyes. God, he’d wanted to ask her out right then, take her to some local place for dinner to say thanks for all her help. But while they’d carried boxes into his living room, she’d mentioned the guy she was seeing at that time—the guy she had a date with later that evening. The guy who’d taken her to a cheap motel, rolled her in the sheets, and promptly disappeared the next day. Afterward, she’d put on a brave face, but her furrowed brow and sunken eyes had told of her pain. Andy grimaced. The whole thing still pissed him off.
Over the past year and a half, he’d watched her smile slip and the light burn out. He wanted nothing more than to show her what love could really be. He ached to hold her in his arms at night and be the one she woke up to every morning. But he’d known from the very first day, he wasn’t the kind of man she was looking for.
She liked the bad boys—basically, assholes who held an air of excitement or mystery, or whatever the hell made them attractive, but refused to settle down. So, he’d silently watched her get her heart broken over and over and offered her his shoulder to cry on when one after the other crushed her dreams.
He slicked the soap over his skin, letting his hand rest on the raging hard-on he’d had since he left her the night before.
She wasn’t a stupid girl, far
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