Big Bad Marine

by Jackie Ashenden

  “I don’t want your attention.” Which would have been more convincing if she hadn’t sounded so sulky. “It was just a bit of fun, geez. It’s not my problem you can’t handle it.”

  And now she was being defensive, which was understandable. But he still wasn’t going to let her get away with it. The consequences started now.

  “So if I was a woman and came to you with all those texts and you told me it was just fun and I should just handle it, that would be appropriate?”

  She shifted yet again, her head remaining turned away.

  “Rose.” He sharpened his voice. “I want an answer.”

  “God, okay. No.”

  “No, what?”

  “No, it wouldn’t be appropriate.” She’d folded her arms across her chest, her shoulders rigid, her face turned resolutely away.

  Yeah, she was very unhappy with him and he didn’t much like that himself. Regardless of what she might think, being hard on her wasn’t easy for him. Especially when he had such a soft spot for her and always had.

  Right from the moment Duchess had found him in that bar, trying to drown his sorrows in a bottle of Jack, after his father had announced that he didn't want West coming around to see him anymore.

  The guilt had been biting deep and at first he hadn’t wanted anything to do with Duchess and her request for personal protection. He'd been working with a personal security company at the time, having decided not to go back into the military, and the thought of being responsible for the safety of another woman had left him cold. Especially after Carly.

  But Duchess had been insistent, telling him about her asshole ex and his threats, and how toothless the police were when it came to enforcing the restraining order she’d taken out against him. And then he’d noticed the sulky teenage girl standing behind her, trying to pretend she didn’t care, yet not being able to hide the pleading look in her big blue eyes as Duchess asked him for help. Even through his bourbon haze he’d noticed.

  It had been a long time since anyone had looked at him like he could potentially be their hero and he just hadn’t been able to say no.

  Duchess might have been the one asking him, but it had been that little girl standing behind her, staring at him like he was her savior, who’d given him a second chance and he hadn’t ever forgotten that.

  Didn’t mean he could go easy on her now, though. She was an adult after all, not a sulky, scared little teenager.

  But pain without reward is just pain, remember?

  That was true. In which case a bit of honey wouldn’t hurt.

  The silence had lengthened, the atmosphere in the car full of anger, not to mention hurt. She wore her heart on her sleeve, did Rose, and that was a good reminder to him that he needed to be careful of it.

  “I’m not angry with you, Rose,” he said into the quiet. “I just want you to remember that you’re a grown woman, not a kid anymore. Okay?”

  She said nothing, her head still turned away, her posture rigid.

  And a couple more moments passed.

  “Okay,” she said shortly. “So when do we stop for the night?”

  He decided to let her have the change of subject. “I was going to keep on to Albuquerque, but maybe we could stop sooner. You can pick the motel if you like.”

  She glanced at him, a bright flash of pleasure in her eyes, though she masked it pretty much instantly. “You mean I actually get to choose something? Are you sure? It's such a big decision for little ‘ole me.”

  He could have gotten on her case about her tone, but he wasn’t going to. She’d been pleased to be asked and her pleasure made him pleased, too.

  But he didn’t let that slip. No point in giving away a vulnerability. Especially not when, given how smart and sharp she was, she’d probably notice.

  So he kept his attention out the freeway ahead of them instead. “Well, if you don’t think you can handle it…”

  She sniffed again. “I can handle it.”

  “Of course you can,” he said, giving her a little more honey. “You can handle anything you set your mind to.”

  He was aware that she was staring at him, as if the comment had surprised her. And that made the pleasure he took in pleasing her tighten in a way that wasn’t entirely comfortable. Because it made him think of other ways he could please her, ways that made her relatively inoffensive texts about her panties seem entirely appropriate, even a touch too formal.

  Not good, asshole. Not good.

  “Why don’t you pick a song, darlin’?” he said to distract himself, his voice only slightly rough. “Let me hear what young people are listening to these days.”

  Rose stared at her reflection in the restroom mirror and frowned, fiddling with the ponytail and smoothing a few loose strands. The lighting was awful, the dark circles under her eyes pronounced.

  She looked like she’d spent the night painting the town red and not what she’d actually been doing, which was tossing and turning, her brain going ninety miles an hour thinking of the upcoming trip with West.

  She wasn’t nervous. She was just….

  Bullshit. You were nervous.

  Rose scowled at the mirror. Okay, so she had been. Especially after all the rules and regulations he’d flung at her the day before. Then there had been him reading her the riot act for being, like, five seconds late that morning, making it very clear that he was serious about enforcing those rules.

  Asshole.

  You like it though, come on.

  No, she did not like it. Just as she did not like the authoritative note in his rough, deep voice, or the sharp, metallic glint in his silver gray eyes. Or the way his features hardened and he got that forbidding, intense look on his face that made her heat beat fast and her—

  Okay, she needed to stop thinking about that and instead try thinking about how not to piss him off.

  Anger still burned inside her from what he’d said to her in the car before they stopped at the diner, though it was mostly at herself rather than him.

  She’d already told herself the day before that all the flirty stuff was immature and stupid, but she hadn’t expected him to come right out and say it to her face, and she did not appreciate the reminder.

  Because he was right. If their genders had been reversed, all those texts and flirtatious comments she’d sent his way would be creepy and inappropriate. It made her feel vaguely ashamed of herself.

  “If you want my attention, ask for it.”

  And that was the heart of the issue, wasn’t it? She did want his attention. But she couldn’t ask for it, because the kind of attention he was talking about wasn’t the kind of attention she wanted from him. And she was pretty sure it wasn’t the kind of attention he’d want to give her anyway.

  She stared disconsolately into the mirror, then dug around in her purse, bringing out her makeup bag for a couple of touch ups. Not that there was any point since West didn’t seem to care about what she looked like.

  Then again, he did say you were a grown woman not a kid, remember?

  Rose frowned as she redid her lip gloss. That didn’t help. In fact it was worse, because if he saw her as a grown woman and still hadn’t responded to her sexy come-ons then he really didn’t want her.

  She’d been nothing but an annoying kid to him as a teenager, and now she was nothing but an annoying woman. Did it get any more depressing than that?

  She swallowed as she pressed her lips together, trying not to let that thought get to her.

  It didn’t matter. If West didn’t want her, he didn’t want her. The most important thing she had to remember was that she was on her first trip as a fugitive recovery agent and this was her chance to prove herself. To get out from behind her desk and be a genuine part of the team, not just Lily’s little sister whom no one knew what to do with.

  She couldn’t screw this up. And hell, if she couldn’t impress West with being a sexy woman, then maybe she could impress him by being the best fucking bounty hunter he’d ever seen.

>   Feeling better, she pouted at her reflection. It wasn’t perfect, but it would do. Putting her lip-gloss away in her purse, she turned and pushed open the restroom door.

  They’d stopped for lunch and coffee at a roadside diner, and she could see West sitting in the booth they’d chosen by the window, looking at the menu he held in his large, blunt-tipped fingers. The sun coming through the glass caught the bright gold strands in his dark blond hair and in the stubble along his hard jawline. She could even see gold in his outrageously long eyelashes.

  Leaning against the doorframe, she took the opportunity to look her fill while he was unaware. Perhaps staring at him like this was masochistic, especially since he wasn’t into her, but she couldn’t help herself.

  He liked opera for God’s sake. Who the hell knew? Did Lily? Nora? What about Rhys? Or was that something only she knew about him? She liked that. Like the thought of having a secret piece of him that no one else did.

  It made her wonder what other secrets he had and whether he’d tell her more, because damn if she wasn’t curious as hell. She knew he’d been a Marine once, but that was about it.

  He didn't talk about himself and she’d always been too shy to ask, but hey, why not? He had, after all, suggested that she talk to him. Have an actual conversation, right?

  It wasn’t exactly what she wanted, but now she had him all to herself, it seemed a shame to waste the opportunity. She could be mature and responsible. And who knew? Maybe if she showed him how mature and responsible she could actually be, he might even change his mind about her.

  Pushing herself away from the door frame, Rose started toward the booth, watching as one of the waitresses approached him. The woman smiled, before leaning down to point out some things on the menu. West said something and the woman laughed, then straightened up, giving him the most blatantly appreciative glance Rose had ever seen. He smiled back, the lazy, sexy smile that took him from hot to mesmerizing in seconds flat.

  A blade of intense jealousy knifed through her.

  God, what she wouldn’t give to make him look at her like that.

  Maybe if you hadn’t been such a whiny brat around him.

  She swallowed, not liking the turn of her thoughts.

  It reminded her of being eighteen and fully in the grip of her crush. Of the first time she’d seen him with another woman, a curvy redhead who was so much more of everything Rose wasn't. Gorgeous. Sexy. Flirty. He'd kissed the redhead as she'd dropped him at Lily and Rose's apartment one morning, and Rose had watched them from her bedroom window, feeling like she'd swallowed a cup full of acid.

  She'd wanted to be that redhead so badly, and had made the decision then and there, that she was ditching her teenage self. That if West O'Connor wanted a woman, she would be that woman.

  Except despite her miniskirts and high-heeled sandals, her teasing and her flirting, West had never seen her as that woman. And every time someone else hit on him and he responded the way he wouldn’t to her, it was yet another reminder of all the things she wasn’t and would never be. At least not to him.

  As if to add insult to injury, West’s deep, velvety laughter rolled over her, the sound almost stopping her breath, and she found her eyes filling with the most ridiculous tears.

  God, she was such a loser, crying over a man. She hated it. It reminded her of being that sad, scared, weak little girl. The one the disgusting Mason had taken advantage of. The one who’d been hurt. Whom West had saved.

  Yeah, she didn’t want to be that girl. Not ever again.

  Blinking away the tears and shoving down those pathetic feelings, Rose sauntered over to the booth. West’s gaze flicked toward her and that panty-melting smile faded, the lines of his ridiculously handsome face rearranging into something far more stern.

  Hell, why did she like it when he looked at her that way? And she did, no doubt about it. Except that it made absolutely no sense at all.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked as she slid into the booth. “Am I late or something? Were you timing my pee break?”

  “No, just waiting for your order.” West didn’t smile at her stupid joke.

  Not feeling hungry all of a sudden, Rose muttered, “Just a coffee, thanks,” to the waitress.

  West’s eyebrows rose. “Coffee? That’s all? After all that complaining about how hungry you were the past half hour?”

  Aware of the waitress’s interested gaze, Rose tried to ignore the blush that heated her cheeks. “Yeah, well, I’m not hungry now.”

  “Fine. Your funeral.” West turned to the waitress and gave her his order, with a side-helping of that beautiful, sexy smile.

  Rose felt even more wretched.

  “What’s up?” he asked, after the waitress had gone. “And don’t give me any ‘nothing’ bullshit. You look like you could chew right through a steel girder.”

  She fiddled with the menu in her hands. “Just carsick.”

  “Right. When you’re never been carsick before.”

  Rose stared down at the words on the menu, conscious of his gaze and the acid burn of the jealousy that sat inside her.

  Weren’t you going to prove to him that you could be a responsible adult?

  Yeah, she was. Which meant she needed to get it together, paste a smile on her face. Pretend that nothing was wrong, because it wasn’t.

  She let out a breath then looked up. “Thank you. For bringing me along on this trip. I know I’m a pain in the ass, but I…well. I just want you to know that I appreciate it.”

  West’s brows rose and it was kind of galling just how far in his estimation she’d fallen that a simple ‘thank you’ should be so surprising to him.

  Heat burned in her cheeks but she made herself go on, “I know you didn’t want to bring me, that Lily made you. But I’m glad you did.”

  He tilted his head. “Where did that come from?”

  Rose shifted. Damn, she hated the way she kept blushing. “I just thought…Well…you said that I was a grown woman, so I thought I’d try that on for size.”

  His gaze narrowed.

  Okay, he was suspicious and fair enough, especially when she hadn’t given him any reason lately to think she was genuine.

  But maybe if she did, he’d stop looking at her as if she was someone he didn’t much like and start looking at her the way he used to back when she was sixteen. Back when she'd thought all men were like Mason and West had taught her otherwise. That there were some men who weren't violent assholes. Who protected people, not hurt them. Men who cared.

  A couple of moments passed and then, magically, one corner of West’s hard, beautiful mouth kicked up. “Looks good on you, darlin’.”

  Her chest tightened. Everything tightened.

  He was just so, so hot. Especially when he looked at her like that, smiled at her like that. It made her skin feel two sizes too small, all tight and hot and prickling. And she didn’t know what to do with herself, how to handle it. Normally she’d bat her eyelashes and make some dumb comment, but…

  You want another strike?

  No. No she did not.

  Luckily, she was saved by the waitress coming with the coffee and West’s order, though she had to endure the other woman chatting easily then laughing when he made some quip as his food was put down in front of him.

  She felt the age gap acutely right then. A dumb little girl with a hopeless crush on a much older guy, watching as some beautiful older woman picked him up.

  Looking away from the pair of them chatting across the table, Rose pulled her coffee toward her and dumped a whole lot of sugar into it. Then she picked up her spoon and started stirring. Lots of fucking stirring.

  After what seemed like for-goddamn-ever, the waitress gave West a last smile and moved on to the next table, leaving them finally alone.

  West picked up his knife and fork, preparing to attack his plate of eggs and bacon. “You sure you don’t want anything to eat?”

  She shook her head and lifted her cup, taking a
sip. Too sweet, dammit.

  Another silence fell and it was awkward, though maybe that was just her.

  She cast around for something to say that wasn’t teasing or flirtatious, nervous and unsure of herself. It was a weird feeling, almost as if she didn’t know how to act around him without being a brat.

  “So,” she began, putting her mug back down on the table and turning it around a few times. “Ummm, why do you listen to opera?”

  One golden eyebrow rose. “That the best you could come up with?”

  “I’m making an effort at conversation. Gimme a break.”

  He ate a bite of bacon and eggs and chewed, staring thoughtfully at her. Then he swallowed and said, “Like I told you. Dad used to listen to it when I was a kid. In the evenings he’d put Puccini or Mozart on the stereo instead of watching TV.”

  All she knew about West’s father was that he was some kind of military big deal and that West had nothing to do with him anymore.

  “Oh.” Slowly, she turned her coffee mug around again. “And I guess you must have…liked it?”

  Again, the corner of his mouth kicked up, making her heart flutter in her throat. “Yeah, I did like it. He just didn’t watch much TV and I didn’t question it, because you know, kids don’t. I was too busy playing with my soldiers anyway.”

  Playing with his soldiers? Rose tried to imagine six foot four West as a small boy playing with toy soldiers. Yeah, she couldn’t. That was impossible.

  “I thought you didn’t get on with your dad?” she said.

  His smiled faded, a hard glint entering in his gaze. “ I don’t.” His voice had flattened, a sudden chill in the words. “Are you sure you don’t want anything to eat? Because once we start driving again, I’m not stopping.”

  Dammit, what had she said? He’d been fine until she’d asked him about his father. Okay, maybe coming out with a question like that had been stupid, but she hadn’t realized he really didn’t like to talk about his dad. Which was a shame, because now she really wanted to know why not.

  The Rose of that morning would have pushed him, found the chink in his armor and exploited it for all it was worth. But now, she wanted to do things differently. She wanted him to smile at her and being a dick about his father was not going to get her smiles.