“I believe you,” she said. “I guess that’s what shocks me. You don’t know me.”
He shifted over so that he was facing her and leaned back against the couch. “No? Well, let’s see. You’re great with my kids. You’re a helluva cook. You’re devoted to your job, or it wouldn’t be causing you so much pain to think of leaving it.” He paused, surveying her expression as next he said, “You have more love to give someone than you know what to do with.”
But she didn’t let him in that time, didn’t let him see the effect of what he’d said. Face blank, she simply shrugged and said, “I guess you know how that feels.”
She had him there. “Yeah, I guess I do. Anyway, no, I don’t know you well. But I like to think I’m a pretty good judge of character. Yours seems pretty solid.”
“Give it time,” she said glumly.
“Oh, come on. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”
“I’m not, really. I like myself. I think I’m pretty awesome. I just have this bad habit of”—she turned and checked behind her to make sure the girls weren’t in earshot—“fucking things up.”
“See? Look at that. You checked for young ears before dropping the f-bomb.”
Chuckling, she reached over and swatted him on the leg. He grinned at her, seeming unable to look away from her brown eyes. They sparkled nicely when she laughed. He liked the way her red lips framed her perfect teeth as she smiled, and he lamented making that smile falter with his next words. “Honestly, though. Do you think Max might try something? Because I was absolutely one hundred percent serious about my offer.”
As expected, her face fell, her gaze straying to some vague point high over his left shoulder. “I don’t know. I really don’t. So far it’s just nasty texts and flowers. But—”
“Nasty texts?”
“You know, like talking dirty. His lame attempt to turn me on, I guess, which did not work. What exactly are you suggesting?”
“Whatever you need, Starla. Say the word.”
She cocked a taupe eyebrow at him. “I’m not exactly ready to put a hit on him.”
“Shit,” he laughed. “I wasn’t talking about murder. But I will have a nice little chat with him, or employ certain ass-kicking methods, if the need arises.”
“You’re pretty confident.”
“I’ve held my own in a few scraps, yeah.”
Her gaze dropped from his and did a quick sweep, taking in the width of his shoulders. He had to say, he liked to see those eyes dancing over him. He liked the appreciative twinkle in them even more. “I bet,” she said.
“Honestly, most guys like that are total chickenshits. They prey on women because they’re too afraid to pick on someone their own size.”
“Well.” She sniffed. “No one is preying on me.”
He supposed he’d struck a nerve with that wording, and she might try to deny it now, but he wondered at what the future might hold if she didn’t set this creep straight now. Not later, not after he’d shown up at her house or her job or sabotaged her car or something like that.
“When Shelly was in high school,” he told her after a moment’s debate, “she had a stalker. It started out with things like Max is doing to you, but it got so bad she had to go to her parents and school officials, alert the authorities, all that. She got lucky. He had some unrelated outstanding warrants, so the cops picked him up on Shelly’s tip and sent him off for a few years. Not long enough, though. Once he got out on parole four years later, he saw her around town and it started up again, only this time more threatening. Now he blamed her for his getting sent to prison. She and I had just gotten engaged and she was pregnant with the girls when that happened.”
Starla was listening with rapt attention. “What did you do?”
He shrugged. “Nothing to get my hands dirty, though I wanted to. I had a little chat with the guy’s parole officer. Before long, they’d snatched him up on drug possession and his parole was revoked, and I’m sure that’s because his parole officer had been all over his ass after my visit.”
“You know what sucks about that whole thing?” Starla said. “Not a damn thing was done to that asshat over what he did to Shelly. It was all unrelated stuff. That’s such bullshit. She didn’t get her justice for being terrorized.”
“It’s like you said earlier. Their hands are tied until he actually does something to you.” He gave her a level stare. “I’m telling you, don’t let it go that far. Come to me, go to your friends, let someone know.”
She waved a hand in the air. “I’m sure it won’t. I’m ignoring him completely. He’ll get bored and move on.”
“Starla—”
“I don’t want to talk about him anymore.” Her voice rang with steely determination. “Okay?”