She couldn’t shoot pool for shit when she was drunk though. He winced when her cue scraped the cloth. She scratched—twice in a row. But he didn’t think the guys watching her gave a crap about her pool-shooting abilities. They were watching the woman, who laughed with them, flirted with them, and leaned against them, probably because she was having trouble standing.
What was her intent in getting drunk and hanging out with all these men?
It occurred to him he had no right to wonder, since he’d tossed her declaration of love in her face and basically called her a slut. He cringed again at the thought, as he had every day since he’d flung what she’d said out the window as if it had meant nothing. She’d told him she loved him—in front of his brother, who she knew had the capacity to hurt her, and in front of his father.
And he’d crushed her under his heel. He was a callous, no good son of a bitch, and he didn’t deserve her.
He was no better than dirt. He couldn’t blame her for never wanting to speak to him again. And he sure as hell couldn’t blame her for dropping him as a client.
Now it was time for him to man up and take whatever she flung his way.
He moved into the circle by the pool table.
“Excuse me, guys, time for me to take my woman home.”
They all backed away, whether it was because they knew him or whether they didn’t want to get in the middle of a guy and his girl, he didn’t know. Didn’t care.
Elizabeth lined up a shot, though he knew she had it lined up wrong. He got up behind her and pressed his body against hers. She giggled.
“I hope you don’t think you pressing your crotch against my ass to help me with this shot in any way means you’re coming home with me.”
She had no idea it was him. He hadn’t said a word. He slid his arm alongside hers, held her hand steady, lined up the shot, and hit the ball. It slid into the corner pocket—without scratching.
“Wheee!” she said, lifting and turning around with a wide grin.
Her smile died as soon as she saw him. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Jenna called me. I’m your ride home.”
She shot a glare at the bar. Jenna waved.
“Traitor.”
He laid the pool cue on the table. “Come on, honey, I’ll take you home.”
She backed away from him. “I’m not going anywhere with you. I’m staying here with my guys. Right, guys?”
Gavin scanned the gazes of the men surrounding the table. None looked ready to jump to her defense. Smart dudes. The last thing they wanted was to get in the middle of what they probably thought was a domestic dispute.
“Party’s over, Elizabeth. Let’s go.” He reached for her hand, but she jerked it back.
“Leave me alone. You don’t love me. And I fired you.”
“Do we have to do this here?”
She nodded her head up and down like a goddamn bobblehead. “Yes. Yes we do. Right here. Right now.”
Not a good idea. She couldn’t even stand up by herself. She was weaving back and forth, and looked like she was going to drop to the floor any minute. In fact . . .
He caught her before she fell. “Okay, here we go.” He scooped her up in his arms. Jenna was right there with Elizabeth’s purse and a kiss to his cheek.
“Here you go. Good luck.”
She held the door for him.
“Thanks, sis.”
Elizabeth lifted her head and glared at him. “I don’t want you to take me home. You’re fired.”
“So you told me. I’m taking you home anyway. You can fire me again when we get there.”
“Okay.” Her head dropped to his shoulder, and she was blissfully quiet on the ride home. Only instead of taking her home, he took her to his house, where she’d have less of a chance of making an escape when he tried to talk to her.
She passed out on the ride home, didn’t wake up when he carried her into his house and up the stairs to his bedroom. He took off her shoes and covered her, and she didn’t move.
She was out. Totally and utterly out. Whatever he wanted to say to her was going to have to wait until tomorrow.
Shit.
He turned out the light and closed the door.
He went downstairs, picked up where he’d been on his Xbox game, and figured he was going to be up for a while tonight, figuring out what he was going to say in the morning.
ELIZABETH WOKE WITH A START AT THE SOUND OF A door closing, shot up in bed, and blinked her eyes open.
Ugh. Cotton mouth.
Whiskey.
This was all Jenna’s fault.
Not really, but always nicer to blame someone else for your own stupidity.
She needed coffee, stat. She forced her eyes open, and that’s when she realized she was not in her own bedroom.
Even worse, this was Gavin’s bedroom.
Double shit.
She vaguely remembered him showing up at Riley’s last night. Thank God Jenna had the presence of mind not to let her drive home. Not that she would have been foolish enough to do so, but drunks never had common sense.
She didn’t remember exchanging much in the way of verbiage with Gavin last night, so maybe they hadn’t gotten into it. She’d likely been too drunk to have any sort of intelligent conversation anyway.
Good. She had nothing to say to him anyway.
She glanced over at the clock on the nightstand.
Holy crap, ten a.m.
She really should give up alcohol. Or at least alcohol binges when you’re mad about a man.
Good thing she didn’t fall in love often. Or ever.
At least she never intended to fall in love again. The wear and tear on the body, heart, and soul was too great. She’d already invested enough years of her life in Gavin, and for what? To be called a whore?
She should have listened to her mother. Love hadn’t worked for her mother, and it sure as hell hadn’t worked for her. She was going to take up Tori’s lifestyle in the future. Career first, men were to be thought of only as recreation, and there was no such thing as love.
She swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood, checking her status.
A little shaky, slightly nauseated, and desperate for a cup of coffee. Other than that, she was okay. Now she had to get out of here.
She found her shoes and slipped them on, then opened the door.
She smelled coffee. Oh, God. She didn’t care if she was forced to have a civil five-minute conversation with Gavin. She was going to have a cup of coffee. She tiptoed downstairs, hoping he was asleep or, even better, gone.
As she rounded the corner into the kitchen, she spotted Gavin leaning against the counter. He lifted his gaze from the newspaper to look at her. He wore a pair of faded jeans and a T-shirt, and oh, God, he looked so good. His hair was messy, and she wanted to go up to him, put her arms around him, and mess his hair up a little more with her fingers. She wanted to kiss him and ask him why he couldn’t love her as much as she loved him.
This was why she was a cold-hearted bitch. Love just f**king hurt too much to risk the attempt. She’d tried. She’d failed. It sucked.
She walked into the room.
“You’re awake,” he said, laying the newspaper on the counter.
“Apparently.”
“Feel okay?”
“I’ll live.”
“Coffee?”
“Desperate for some.”
He grabbed a cup and poured, held it out for her.
“Thanks.”
He didn’t try to engage her in conversation while she drank down the sobering, life-affirming brew. For that she was grateful. She needed to consume an entire pot of it, but not here. Not with him.
She laid the cup down and fished in her purse for her phone. “I’ll just call a taxi to take me to my car.”
“I’ll drive you.”
“No.”
He laid his hand over hers. “Elizabeth . . .”
She pulled her hand away. “Gavin, save it. I don’t want to hear whatever you have to say.”
“I’m not going to go away until you let me say it.”
She dialed the taxi company, gave them Gavin’s address, then hung up.
She blew out a breath and walked around him to the coffeepot, refilled her cup, then leaned against the counter. “Fine, then. Say it, so I can go home. They said fifteen minutes for the taxi.”
He turned to face her, tried for a smile. She didn’t smile back, so he raked his hands through his hair. “You’re not going to make this easy for me, are you?”
She had no answer for him.
He inhaled, let it out. “Okay. Look, I know I hurt you that day. When you told me you loved me, I wasn’t thinking straight. All I heard was you telling me what to do. Telling me I had to go back to work. I had already heard my dad telling me, my mom telling me. And then on the other side I heard from Mick saying how you were manipulating me, how all you were interested in was the money and career aspect, that you didn’t care about me.”
She let out a small snort at that one but didn’t dignify it with a response.
“I know, I know. I should have known better than to listen to my brother. Believe me, he’s got a lot to answer for in all this. But the blame lies on me. All of the blame is on me. And I’m sorry. You laid your heart on the line, and I stomped on it as if it didn’t mean anything. I guess it kinda scared me when you said you loved me.”
She waited for more from him. Nothing.
“That’s it? It kinda scared you?”
“Yeah. I knew you and I were headed for . . . something. At some point. I just don’t know that I was ready for . . . it.”
She arched a brow. “It?”
“Yeah. You know. Love.”
She rolled her eyes. “You act as if love is some kind of communicable disease, Gavin.”
He shook his head. “That’s not what I meant. I’m messing this up. I just wasn’t prepared for you to tell me you loved me in the midst of browbeating me about going back to work. I mean you’re my agent and you were my girlfriend—or something. I didn’t really know what we were to each other. And then all of a sudden you’re telling me you love me in front of my brother and my dad, and I’m not sure about anything anymore. And I knew I felt something big for you, but I was messed up over my dad, too, and I—”
She didn’t know what she’d expected from him, but this wasn’t it. He was stumbling over his words, and maybe she’d expected a straight out apology and declaration of love.
Stupid. Once again, reality hadn’t met her expectations.
When had it ever?
The sound of a horn honking was a giant slice of relief. This whole thing was mortifying. Elizabeth wasn’t sure she could put up with one more second of Gavin’s painful explanations.
“Look, Gavin. Let me make this easy for you. I’m not your agent anymore, and I’m not your ‘whatever’ or your ‘something,’ either. You’re off the hook. I’m sorry I embarrassed you in front of your brother and your father with my inept declaration of love. Trust me, it won’t happen again.”
He frowned. “That’s not what I’m trying to—”
She laid down the cup and grabbed her purse.
“We’re over. You want to know what we were to each other? Fuck buddies. A fling. Call it whatever you want. I mistook it for love. That’s on me, so don’t feel responsible. I’ll get over it. You should, too.”
“Elizabeth, wait.”
She wasn’t going to wait. She’d waited long enough. For five damn years she’d been in love with a man who was never going to be able to love her back. Not the way she needed him to.
Because he was incapable of loving her. Possibly incapable of loving anyone.
She walked out the door and slid into the taxi, keeping her gaze focused straight ahead. She wouldn’t look back.
Not anymore.
GAVIN SAT IN THE KITCHEN AND STARED AT ELIZABETH’S cup of coffee, now cold. He should toss it in the dishwasher, but he couldn’t seem to move.
How had he colossally f**ked that up? Again. Twice now he’d hurt her.
Christ. He’d always been so good with women, could charm them, smooth talk them, convince them of anything he wanted.
And with the one woman he needed to be smooth with, he was like a tongue-tied teenager incapable of uttering a simple syllable, let alone get his point across. He hadn’t been able to tell her how he felt. He’d swung and missed.
What the hell was wrong with him? How hard was it to say he was sorry? How f**king difficult was it to tell a woman he loved her? It should have been so simple. He had the words in his head, and he couldn’t get them out. The most important conversation of his life and he’d struck out.
No, he hadn’t just struck out.
It was bottom of the ninth, bases loaded, and he was up to bat.
Facing down Elizabeth had been bigger than the World Series.
And he’d just lost the game. The biggest game of his life.
He’d lost the woman he loved.
Game over.
TWENTY-FOUR
“YOU GOING TO SIT AROUND MOPING ABOUT THIS FOREVER, or are you going to do something about it?”
Gavin knew he should have stayed home today instead of going to his parents’ to see his dad. He’d had a week out of town where he’d blissfully drowned his sorrows in baseball and at the bar. He’d sucked at his game, which hadn’t helped his mood any, and the bar hadn’t offered any answers, either. Neither had the women who’d tried to approach him. He wasn’t interested in any of them, because they weren’t beautiful redheads with emerald green eyes and challenging attitudes.
Now he was home, and home reminded him of Lizzie, too. So he’d gone to his parents, figuring he could do some fix-it work for his dad. He visited with his father, who hadn’t said anything about Elizabeth. His mother, on the other hand . . .