Three Broken Promises (One Week Girlfriend #3)(46)
Author: Monica Murphy

I take a hot shower to wash away the awful thoughts that still linger from last night. And the way Conrad Wilder talked, how he looked at me. How he strode into Colin’s house as if he owned it, invading our space. Ruining everything.

Thank God I know Colin is not like his father. Yeah, he has a reputation as a player and when I first came to live with him, he flirted with plenty of girls. Even went out with a few. At The District, he’s always the charmer, talking to women, making them laugh and smile and vie for his attention. But he never comes across as a total phony.

And lately he hasn’t even gone out with any of them. For the last few months he’s flirted a little bit at work with customers, but that’s it. I’m the only one he’s paid any real attention to.

Closing my eyes, I press my forehead against the cool tile, letting the water cascade over me. He’s so confusing. Everything he does, how he acts, I can’t figure him out. One minute I think he might really want me, then the next he’s treating me like a friend or worse, a temporary fling.

You’re the one who asked for the temporary fling.

Yeah. I’m such a fool for saying that. No wonder he readily agreed. A man like Colin is always up for a no-strings affair.

I finally shut off the water and step out of the shower, toweling off quickly, preparing for the day. My body still aches, but the pain is probably nothing that a few ibuprofen can’t take care of. Colin may have said I’m not going into work, but I so am. No way will I sit around here and do nothing. I’ll be climbing the walls in no time. And after having last night’s tips stolen, I need the money.

Besides, if Colin’s dad is hanging around here tonight when Colin is at work, there is no way in hell I’m staying here with him alone.

Exiting the bathroom that connects to my bedroom, I go to the dresser and open a drawer, slipping on a bra and panties, then a pair of yoga pants and a pale blue tank top. I attempt to grab for my phone, ready to check my text messages, and realize it’s gone.

The jackass who stole my purse also took my phone. He’s probably not even doing anything with it. My cheap purse has probably been tossed in a garbage bin, full of everything I consider important. He most likely took my cash and left everything else in the trash. Things that matter to me. Stuff that I need.

I sniff, pressing my lips together to hold back the tears as I collapse on my bed. I’m tired. Irritated. Frustrated. A huge ball of confusing emotion swirls within me, and I glance at the bedside table and the landline telephone that sits there.

Yep, Colin’s one of the rare few who actually still has a real phone. I grab it and dial the 800 number of my phone company, which turns into a twenty-minute conversation as I cancel my stolen phone and order a new one.

Colin would be proud of me. I actually feel like an adult, taking care of what I need to do.

The moment I hang up, the phone starts to ring. I answer it quickly, something I rarely do since hardly anyone calls the house phone and if they do, it’s usually for Colin.

“Oh my God, I took a chance by calling this number,” Fable says right after I say hello. She sounds relieved. “Are you all right? I figured your cell was stolen, yeah?”

“Yeah.” I sigh, running a hand over my wet hair as I slump against the headboard. “I’m tired, but I’m okay.”

We talk for a few minutes, with me explaining that I’m perfectly fine and letting her know about my frustration with Colin. How he doesn’t want me to come into work tonight.

“You should totally take the night off. I would if I were you. I bet he’d pay you,” she says.

Leave it to Fable to think about the money aspect of it. I usually do too. We have similar backgrounds, since both of us grew up relatively poor.

“Ha. With my luck he probably won’t. That’s why I’m going in,” I reply.

There’s a brief knock on my door before it’s thrown open, startling me. “Hey, I gotta go,” I murmur to Fable before I hang up without letting her reply. Colin strides into my room, slamming the door behind him. He stops at the foot of my bed, resting his hands on his hips as he glowers at me. As he’s still wearing those damn pajama pants and nothing else, I keep my gaze glued on his face.

That muscular bared chest is not going to distract me. I refuse to let it.

“Just because you own the place doesn’t mean you can just barge into my room,” I say, feeling defensive. On edge. I scoot up the bed till I’m practically sitting among the pile of pillows, my gaze never leaving his.

He looks angry as he runs a hand through his hair, pushing it into complete, sexy disarray. A sure sign that he’s frustrated. “I’m sorry about my dad. I didn’t expect him to show up. He usually calls before he comes by.”

“How often does that happen?”

“Rarely. That’s why it was such a surprise.” He rolls his eyes, something I don’t think I’ve seen him do since he was a teen. Funny how being around a parent makes us revert in age.

“It’s okay. I don’t mind that he’s here.” I shrug, trying to act like it doesn’t bother me even though it totally does.

I like having this safe haven with Colin. Hardly anyone ever comes around, so it’s pretty much always just me and him. Fable accused me a while ago of playing house with him.

I think she’s right.

“He was an ass to you and I hate that.”

“You don’t have to apologize for him,” I say, secretly thankful that he did. At least this way I know Colin is aware of his father’s behavior.

“Yeah, I think I do.” He sits on the edge of the bed and turns toward me, those beautiful blue eyes studying me, seeing everything and nothing, all at once. “Do I need to apologize for what happened in the living room before he showed up? The fight and the . . . other stuff?”

Hearing him say that reminds me of exactly what was happening between us in the living room, sending a little shiver down my spine. I’d wanted it. There was absolutely no reason for him to apologize for that. “No,” I answer, not wishing to say anything else. Why give him anything else? I’m keeping my lips shut.

“Good.” He nods, rubbing the back of his neck and looking decidedly uncomfortable and eager to change the subject. “I called the police when you were in the shower.”

“Oh?” I try to sound casual but my voice cracks. “Um . . . what did they say? Any news?”

“They haven’t found the guy, no surprise. I spoke to a detective who’s supposedly in charge of your case and he didn’t know shit.” Colin practically spits out the last word, his eyes blazing. Seeing him so angry on my behalf makes me feel good, which is silly but I can’t help it.