Beneath These Scars

Titan beat me to it. I jerked back, jumpy at having him sneak up behind me so quietly. He was a big man; he shouldn’t be able to move that soundlessly. But those old, fearful reactions—the ones I’d fought to overcome—were shoved aside by an altogether different kind of awareness. Heat zipped down my spine where his body was only an inch from mine.

No. That’s impossible. Lucas Titan is the last man who should pull that kind of reaction from me. My body couldn’t be trusted. I steeled myself against the growing urge to press back against him as he opened the door, and I slipped inside the car.

I knew from the outside that it was expensive, but the interior proved it, especially when I read the embroidery on the floor mat. Aston Martin. There were several things I knew to be true, and one of them was that my ass did not belong in a seat this pricey. But I didn’t have time to think about that because Titan was already in the driver’s seat, throwing the car into gear and pulling away.

“You’re stubborn, you know that?”

“And you’re bossy,” I replied.

His gaze cut to me before shifting back to the windshield. “You want to get caught in a drive-by? Is that on your agenda for this evening? Jesus, woman. You should have a better sense of self-preservation.”

Words. So. Many. Words. And they all bubbled up inside me to spew at him. To tell him exactly where he could shove his judgments of me. But I didn’t. I held them back because he didn’t need to know my sad little story, or how I had dragged myself out of a relationship that could have made me the guest of honor at a funeral parade.

“Where do you live?” he asked, slowing at the next light.

“Tremé. Take a left at the third light.”

An awkward silence filled the car, making me wish he’d hit the gas a little harder, because God knew this fancy car could move quicker. The interior wasn’t small, but Titan’s presence was overwhelming. And Jesus Christ, why did a man who was such a dick have to smell so damn good? Clean with a hint of some exotic, expensive spice. On any other man, I would have leaned closer to inhale the intoxicating scent.

But not him. No way. I’d done rich man before. I knew how that story ended.

When we neared the major cross streets closest to my apartment, I decided we’d gone far enough. “You can drop me here,” I said as he slowed at a stop sign.

Titan’s dark green eyes pinned me to my seat. “Here. At the corner.” His words weren’t a question; they were a wry statement.

“Yes. Here. At the corner,” I parroted back at him.

“You have a problem with someone seeing you to your door?” His tone dripped with condescension.

Lord, but I’d never disliked someone quite so quickly in my life. “Maybe I don’t trust you to know where I live.”

“And I don’t let women out on random street corners in neighborhoods that aren’t safe after dark.”

“There are a lot of things that aren’t safe about this neighborhood, and I know them all. You’re the wild card here, Titan.”

I reached for the handle and tugged. It didn’t move. I ran my hand along the panel, looking for the lock. Stupid expensive cars, everything had to be sleek and hidden. I found it and popped the door open.

“Are you always this stubborn?” he asked as I climbed out.

I thought of the time in my life when I’d let a man walk all over me. “I am now,” I replied.

“Good, then you’ll recognize stubborn when I follow you to your door and make sure you get inside without getting shot or stabbed.”

I slammed the door, and he pulled into an empty spot along the road.

Screw that. It might have been undignified and downright ridiculous, but I ran across the street and ducked between two houses. Darting down the narrow space, I headed for the alley that skirted along the back of the house where my apartment sat on the second floor.

“Goddamn it,” I heard him grunt. “You’re fucking kidding me.”

A small grin tugged at my lips, and I jogged down the alley to let myself into the side gate. Apparently not everyone lived under the law of Lucas Titan. It should be a good lesson for him.

It wasn’t until I reached my door that I realized I’d left my car keys in the Aston Martin.

Shit. I sat down on the steps of the porch, listening for the sound of the Aston Martin to come purring up the road, but the low rumble never came. With a sigh of relief, I pulled out my phone to call my landlord to let me in. That was one way to distract myself from these unwanted thoughts of Lucas Titan.

MY HANDS SHOOK AS I read the letter. It was just a piece of paper, and yet it had enough weight behind it to rock the foundation of my world—and my world was centered around this store. I didn’t need to lift my eyes from the letter in order to visualize the bright blue walls of Dirty Dog and the shiny black trim. Or the vintage dress forms I used instead of mannequins, and the shabby chic armoires I’d chosen and refinished myself. This shop was my life.

But I only managed it. Harriet owned it. And now she was selling it.

The letter from a business broker, already creased from my sweaty palms, thanked Harriet for engaging them and said they were looking forward to finding the right buyers for her entire portfolio of businesses. I lowered it to the display case and eyed the envelope as if it might contain anthrax. It had been addressed to Harriet, but like all the other mail, I’d automatically opened it anyway.

I sucked in a breath but my lungs were malfunctioning; I couldn’t get enough air. Pain shot through my chest, and my stomach churned in big, swamping waves. My eyes burned with tears I’d never let fall.