Problematic Love (Rogue Series Book 8)

by Lara Ward Cosio

  I’m being a bit flippant about it all, I know. Amelia’s words did get through to me, of course, but I was paralyzed by the events of the last few hours and said nothing.

  And so, now I watch as she walks away.

  I let her go.

  It’s for the best. Though she may claim I have something to offer, it’s only a matter of time before she recoils from the reality of what I am.

  It makes me realize that my fantasies for my Dear Ms. Patterson should have stayed that way. Reality is never as good as the imagining of it.

  I slowly retrace the steps we had taken and when I see no sign of Amelia, I consider calling an Uber. The lure of a drink is stronger than my desire to get back to Shay’s house by myself, however, and I go back into The Buena Vista with the intention of skipping the coffee and going straight to the whiskey.

  The first thing I see once I’m through the door stops me in place.

  Amelia is there, standing at the end of the bar. She’s all smiles as she chats with Malcolm, our waiter from before. He’s leaning close to her, laying it on thick with whatever charm he thinks he has. Seems he’s deviated from going after American women weak for an accent to preying upon emotionally distraught tourists.

  At least, that’s what I thought she’d be. Distraught by us blowing up so quickly. Distraught by me not begging for her to stay and work it out.

  But she looks anything but upset. In fact, she’s been served another bloody Irish Coffee and is gesturing to it with a loopy smile. When Malcolm squeezes her shoulder in reply, letting his hand linger too long, I move toward them.

  “What the fuck is this?” I demand.

  Both Amelia and Malcolm look up at me, surprised, and maybe even alarmed. I know all too well how my stony expression can intimidate. I’ve resorted to it in many a dark situation when needed.

  “Daniel, I—” she starts but I’m not after listening. I’m after pulling a Danny Boy special.

  “You,” I say, pointing at the waiter, “can move on.”

  Malcolm holds his hands up with a sheepish grin. “She said she needed help with getting a ride, mate.”

  The cheeky bastard. He thinks he’s being clever. But I’m only delighted to one-up him.

  “She’s already had the ride. With me. Right there in the toilets,” I say pointedly.

  Amelia closes her eyes and her cheeks go red. I don’t care about that. It’s only the truth, anyway. Well, partially the truth since we didn’t actually fuck. Close enough.

  My proclamation gets a broader grin out of Malcolm. There’s some respect in there, and I fight the resulting sense of pride I have from having impressed the younger man.

  “Well, she needed help with setting up her Uber app,” he says. “But I can see you’re here now to help, so . . . .” He slinks away.

  I take Amelia’s arm. “Let’s go.”

  She yanks out of my grip. “No, thank you. I’m fine on my own.”

  “No, you’re not. I obviously can’t leave you for a minute or you’ll fall for the likes of any random Paddy who happens along.”

  “How many ways are you going to try to humiliate me tonight?” she asks, and I’m dumbfounded. “Just leave me alone.”

  She’s serious. I can see in her eyes that I’ve irretrievably fucked up.

  Just like I knew I would.

  That was fast. I have to at least applaud myself for that.

  Still, I do have some decency left.

  “I’ll call a car. Come back with me to get your bag, then you can take the car to your hotel,” I say.

  I’m happy when she doesn’t reject the suggestion outright. Instead, she toys with her little glass cup of coffee, thinking.

  “Okay. But I want to enjoy my drink first.”

  I laugh at this show of stubbornness. “You do that.”

  She takes small sips but doesn’t look at me. Instead, her gaze falls around the room and I suspect she’s looking for Malcolm. She can’t possibly really be interested in that kid. It’s got to be a way to fuck with me.

  And it works.

  A rush of emotions overwhelms me in a flash: anger, sadness, disappointment, fear.

  I realize with some surprise that I’m jealous as fuck. I can’t remember the last time a woman made me feel this way. With Jules, it was never really jealousy during those times when she’d let slip her abiding desire for Gavin. It was more anger over feeling used. But the idea of Amelia being with anyone else is repulsive. To quell that feeling, I resort to my old go-to: numbing myself anyway I can.

  “Aye, mate,” I say, leaning over the bar to get the barman’s attention. “Give me a whiskey and fuck off with the coffee.”

  The things I say. Luckily, the bartender has seen it all. He shakes his head only slightly before setting me up with a shot of the good stuff.

  “Don’t go anywhere,” I tell him, and he obliges me as I throw back the drink. “Another.”

  “Daniel, please don’t,” Amelia says softly.

  I pull a wad of cash out of my pocket and place it on the bar. It does the talking for me as the barman pours me another shot. I only let him go when I’ve got my third pour—a double—waiting for me.

  “Feel better now?” she asks, once I’ve disposed of the last shot.

  “I feel fantastic, thanks.” She’s still not looking at me, so I say something to get her attention. “You get his mobile number, then? You and Malcolm have plans?”

  “Stop this.”

  “No, I’m curious. Was it the idea of him calling you ma’am in bed that got you hot?”

  “It’s not okay to treat me this way, Daniel. I’ve done nothing to warrant this.”

  I laugh and the cruelty of that act registers on her face. “Two minutes ago, out there,” I say, gesturing to the waterfront, “you were begging for a chance with me. Me. Then I come to find you in here, all giggles and rubbing up against him. What the fuck? I mean, really? What. The. Fuck.”

  “I’ve had enough.” She pushes her way past me, toward the front door.

  I take off after her, catching up just as she hits the street. Blocking her way, she first tries to go left, but I follow suit, then she goes right, and I follow again.

  “Shall we dance?” I ask, holding up my hands in the proper position for a cha cha or a waltz or whatever people fucking do when they dance.

  She stops and sighs in frustration.

  Again, I laugh. The drink has gone to my head. I haven’t eaten since this morning. But that’s not why I’m laughing. It’s a reflex that I can’t help. It makes me seem like an uncaring twat, I know. But it’s far easier to laugh when I’m fucking up than take responsibility.

  “I just want to go,” she says softly.

  My games aren’t amusing to her anymore. They aren’t doing it for me, either. My shoulders sag as I think of what a cockup this has been.

  “Stay put, then,” I say and retrieve my mobile. In less than thirty seconds, I’ve confirmed a car. “Our ride will be here in three minutes.” There were a dozen Uber drivers nearby. Thank god for all those people trying to somehow make a living in one of the most expensive cities in the world.

  When I look at Amelia again, she’s watching me. This time, she doesn’t look away.

  “What?”

  Laughing softly, she shakes her head.

  “Tell me.”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” she says with a sigh. And then she laughs again, with more commitment. The laughter takes hold of her until she’s wiping tears at her eyes, and I can’t tell whether she’s laughing or crying.

  “Hey,” I say and touch her shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay.”

  “It’s not, though. It’s not. None of it is okay.”

  “It’s not all that bad.”

  “No, it’s just . . . I told Felicity this would happen. I told her I’d threaten your sobriety. She said that wasn’t in my control. But, now look.”

  The words she’s said come at me like I’m underwater. I can tell she’s spoken, but I
can’t decipher what she’s trying to say.

  “First of all, me having some whiskey isn’t me shooting up. You know I never stopped drinking. Second, did you say Felicity? As in Quinn’s wife? Where does she come into all this?”

  “I, em, it’s a long story.”

  “I’ve got all night.”

  She stares at me and I can see that she’s exhausted. Exhausted by our time together and by the hours she’s spent traveling without any rest. Still, she might have come up with some sort of answer if a car horn didn’t interrupt us. It’s our ride.

  “Let’s go,” I say.

  8

  Danny Boy

  * * *

  Neither of us tries to continue the conversation in the car. The drive is short, however, and soon, I’m unlocking the front door to Shay’s house and we’re being greeted by Roscoe. He jumps up on me, unable to contain his excitement. I’m sure he wants to go for a walk, but he’s going to have to settle for a trip to the back garden.

  We’d let the car go in favor of calling another one since Amelia needs to pack up her things. We agree that she will do that while I spend a few minutes out back with Roscoe.

  Shay and Jessica have gone to bed, so I’m as quiet as I can be. Roscoe does his usual thing of taking a tour of the small garden, sniffing furiously at every spot before finding a good one to take a pee. When he’s done, he comes back to me where I’m sitting on a wrought iron bench and sits between my legs. I give him a pat and scratch him around the ears.

  “You would not believe my night,” I tell him softly.

  The whiskey has kicked in and I feel the dull buzz of it. It’s done what I intended and blunted my earlier upset. I don’t have any fight left in me.

  “Okay, fella, let’s get this over with.”

  Roscoe follows me inside, stopping to refresh himself with some water before climbing the stairs. Besides the dog’s toenails making a light tapping noise on the hardwood floor, it’s quiet. I find my way to the room Amelia had used earlier to shower. The door is slightly ajar, the lights inside have been dimmed. I tap gently a couple times but get no response. After a moment, I push the door open and poke my head inside.

  Amelia is curled up on her side on the bed, her mobile in her hand but her eyes closed. Her bag is packed and waiting nearby. She still wears her clothes from earlier. She must have gotten tired waiting for me to finish up with Roscoe. And now she’s dozing, her jet-lag having overtaken her.

  Crouching down beside the bed, I smooth her hair away from her face. She doesn’t stir.

  “Amelia,” I whisper. It’s a half-assed effort to wake her. The truth is, I don’t want her to wake up. I don’t want to have to go through with saying goodbye to her. I don’t want us to end like this.

  I gently pull the mobile from her hand, so I can set it on the nightstand. Of course, I’m not above taking a look at what she’d been doing with it when she fell asleep. The text feature was open. She was going back and forth with someone named Moira. I recall that’s her sister. I scroll backward to when she texted that she’d landed and was in a taxi.

  Moira: Are you nervous?

  Amelia: Petrified

  Moira: No choice now lol

  Amelia: That doesn’t help.

  Moira: You’ll be grand. Remember, he’s the lucky one in all this. Surely he’ll recognize that straight away.

  Amelia: Thanks, Mo.

  Moira: Text me later. I’ll be on needles wanting to hear how it went.

  I look away from the mobile. My ability to feel regret over my actions, after so many years of denying any kind of responsibility, is new. Mostly, it’s unwelcome. Who the fuck wants to feel guilty and bad, anyway? But it comes flooding at me now as I think of how terribly I reacted, when Amelia first got here, and then later at the pub.

  Reluctantly, I look at Amelia’s mobile again.

  Moira: Well?! I’m dying to know.

  Amelia: I don’t know what to say. It was perfect. At first. But then it was clear as day he’s not sure what to do with me.

  Moira: Oh. I’m sorry.

  Amelia: I knew this wouldn’t be easy.

  Moira: So, what now?

  Amelia: He’s going to take me for a drink.

  Moira: That’s good! That’ll loosen things up so you can just relax.

  Amelia: Yes, hope so. I’ll check in with you later.

  Again, I lower the mobile and think about what all happened. Amelia had high hopes. And I couldn’t just be. I had to fuck things up. I had to push her away. Because I’m an idiot. I couldn’t just accept that she honest to god wanted to see if we had something.

  With a heavy sigh, I scroll down to see what she might have told her sister about the evening.

  Amelia: No need to reply right away. I know you’re getting ready for your day and I already kept you up too late before. Just wanted you to know I’m okay. Our drink didn’t exactly turn out how I’d hoped. I’m going to get to my hotel. Looks like this will be a true solo holiday, after all. Kisses to you and Max!

  Moira: What happened?! Need details. I’ll be running M to daycare and then off to work, but I’ll check my mobile. Tell me everything! Love to you.

  That’s where it left off. Amelia must have fallen asleep before getting the reply text.

  Fuck’s sake.

  I think back to when Amelia first showed up, to how deliriously happy I was. Jesus, it was all I had wanted for so long. Just to see her, to have her give me a chance outside of our therapy sessions. How had I lost sight of that so quickly? How had I lost track of all I’d learned in the last eighteen months? I’d regressed to old Danny Boy in the blink of an eye.

  She’d seen it. There isn’t much that gets past her. She’d known I was grasping, flailing. And she was still willing to stick around, to play my games. I was too stupid to see what she was offering. Too willingly blind to the fact that a woman as amazing as her might truly have some feelings for me. I mean, who knows me better? Honestly, who knows all the good, the bad, and the ugly about me better than Amelia Patterson? No one. And yet, she still came round to give me a try. And she still hung on, even after I went too far.

  Looking at her now, I see how hard she tried to let us be whatever I’d allow. She gave up all control the minute she stepped off that plane. I want to wake her to apologize and beg for her to let me start over. I want to convince her that this isn’t over. That I can offer her . . . something.

  But she looks so peaceful.

  And I’m not confident I could really make her believe I’m capable of all that.

  Instead, though I’m tempted to look through more of her texts, I put the mobile face down on the nightstand. When I stand, Roscoe rouses himself from where he’d been on the floor next to me. His eyes follow me as I go to the door. I close it and then turn out the lights. And then I unlace my boots, kick them off, and climb into bed with Amelia.

  She takes in a deep breath when I wrap my arm around her from behind, but she doesn’t move. I press myself to her, burying my face into her hair, before falling into dreamless sleep.

  9

  Amelia

  * * *

  When I wake, it’s first with the sense that I’ve had one of those sleeps that is so deep that I haven’t moved once. Then I realize that I’m in Shay’s guest bedroom and that Daniel’s got his arm wrapped around my waist.

  Blinking against the morning light, I try to remember how we’d gotten to this point. The last thing I recall is waiting for him to deal with Roscoe before helping me get a car to my hotel. I’d been texting with Moira and lay down for just a minute.

  Now, I’ve got Roscoe on the floor near the door and Daniel pressed up behind me.

  Should I try to slip out from under his arm? Quietly grab my things and leave?

  No. The truth is, I want to know if he has anything to say for himself. If he is really ready to let me walk away. The heaviness of his arm around me makes me doubt that. Or at least, gives me hope. Though, why I should want to have hope is
a good question. I was dealing with a fantastic show of regression yesterday. For all the work I did with him, and for all the progress he’s made, he’s still incredibly damaged. Is this really what I want? To be with a man who requires so much?

  Carefully, I turn around so we’re facing each other. He doesn’t look troubled in his sleep. He looks serene. And handsome. The restroom episode flashes in my mind and I feel my body go warm just from the thought of his touch. He was right. He had given me the best orgasm I’d ever had. I’d accused him of trying to control me. There may have been an element of that, but I’m not entirely sure that was his only motive.

  Again, I realize how I’ve lost my read on him. I suppose that’s a reflection of just how emotionally involved I’ve allowed myself to be.

  All I know now is that there is no turning back. This—whatever this is with us—has been set in motion. I took a chance. I knew I was risking my heart. But I also knew there was a possibility to find something good.

  That something good is now looking back at me with sleepy eyes.

  “Morning, gorgeous,” Daniel says with a smile.

  “It is morning, isn’t it? I’m sorry I overstayed my welcome.”

  “You did no such thing. I’m delighted to have you here.” He wraps his arm around me and buries his face into my neck.

  Taking a deep breath, I look up at the ceiling and let my hand fall through his hair. It’s obvious enough he doesn’t want to talk about last night. To be honest, I’m not sure I do either. It suddenly seems exhausting.

  What’s on his mind becomes clear when I feel his lips on my skin as he kisses me just under my ear. The temptation to stop thinking and just feel is strong. It’s a taste of how he’s lived for so many years. No worries about consequences. Just living in the moment. Especially if it’s about finding pleasure and escape.

  His kisses trail over my neck and his hand roams over my side, stopping at my hip.