Trust in Me (3 page)

It had to be a figment of her imagination, though, because she hadn’t bought much worth cooking in over a month and that smell had
slow boil
written all over it. Savory, but not heavy. Soft spices her mind tried to pick out of the warm air. Which was another thing. With winter well on its way, usually her apartment was cold enough for her to need a pile of blankets no matter where she sat. But she was comfortable, toasty even. Her stomach growled, rolling so hard she swore it moved on the outside. Which meant she was definitely awake. Damn it.

All right, so she whimpered a little at that prospect. The only one who might hear her was Amanda, who had to be the one behind that deliciously light smell of something good. The Cracker Princess, trying to be helpful. Far more rested than she’d been in weeks, Susie opened one eye, willing to be forgiving. Especially if Amanda had brought her homemade bread—

The other eye popped open in surprise as she took in her dim surroundings. She blinked, rubbing her face and finally realizing she was on her own bed, the light outside the door casting the room into golden-hued half-tones.

How the hell had she gotten here?

The old iron frame squeaked as she sat up, trying to get her bearings, almost masking the clanking of what sounded like someone doing dishes.
Dishes?
Okay, there was hunger-inspired forgiveness and then there was going too far. She hadn’t done her dishes in nearly a week, just too damn tired to do more than fall on her couch and sleep. There weren’t a lot, because she hadn’t wanted much in the way of food either, but that wasn’t the point. She didn’t need taking care of and if she did, she’d do it her damn self. Lit with righteous fire, she slid off the bed and stormed into the open living area.

And stopped dead in her tracks.

“What the hell are
you
doing here?”

Locke’s shoulders stopped moving, the sound of determined scrubbing coming to an abrupt end. She didn’t want to be amused at the sight of this giant man hunched down to reach her mini-sink, towel over his shoulder, legs braced wide so he could keep himself in place. Like a Mack truck trying to pull into a compact parking space.

He turned, straightening a bit more, the spiky tips of his hair brushing the round light fixture on the sloping ceiling. She’d thought the wall-length kitchen was too small for
her
, but for Locke, it was just laughable. Except she couldn’t afford to laugh. He’d take it as acceptance and make himself comfortable taking over. Not in
this
fucking lifetime.

“
Well?
”

“Soup’s ready. Sit down, I’ll bring you a bowl.” He turned back to his scrubbing as if she wasn’t standing there, sparks likely shooting out of her head.

“I will not sit down. Why are you in my apartment? What the hell gives you the right—”

“Mandy let me in when you wouldn’t wake up.”

“I—what?”

He grabbed two bowls from the dish rack and pivoted to the stove to start dishing up whatever he’d been cooking. “She didn’t want to leave you downstairs in the store, and the girl never did have much upper-body strength, so she needed someone who could get you to your bed.”

Her mouth clapped shut on her indrawn breath. Oh sure, like she was walking into that one. One verbal volley and he’d show her exactly how good he was at getting her to her bed.

Instead, all she did was watch him set the bowls on her kitchenette table—which he’d no doubt cleared, damn him—and spin back for two spoons from the drawer. Without asking, he settled himself in the small metal chair like an ogre at a tea party and started eating.

Her hands curled into fists, and those little lights of rage she’d started calling “Locke-dots” sprinkled her vision. “Y-you…you…you…”

“Come sit. Eat while it’s hot.”

“What?”

“Eat. It’ll get gooey if you let it get too cold.” He shoveled another bite into his mouth. Okay, not shoveled, he had better manners than that, but she was too mad to be a stickler for details.

“You unbelievably presumptuous bastard!”

He nodded.

“How dare you just come in here like you own the place?”

More nodding.

“This is
my
house. I’m not one of your siblings that’s dumb enough to give you free rein.”

He put a spoonful in his mouth like he was at a dinner theatre or something.

“Who the hell do you think you are?”

Another bite. She put her hands on her hips, waiting for him to answer, a fact he didn’t seem to register was required of him. Before she could jump on him for that, the timer on the stovetop went off with that ear-piercing ding. He got up, opened the oven and pulled out a loaf of Amanda’s homemade bread. Butter and garlic wafted to her nose. Oh, damn him… How was she supposed to stay mad when he had that?

“Where did that come from?”

“Had Amanda steal it from the elder twins when I sent her to lock up my store.” He pulled the split loaf out and set the cookie sheet on the stove next to the soup. He looked over his shoulder and gave her a conspiratorial grin, stealing her breath and probably not even realizing it. “Thought you might appreciate that.”

She closed her eyes, trying desperately to hold on to her anger. Unfortunately, it seeped away from her, leaving her tired and hungry. In too many ways. One smile—so small most people wouldn’t ever recognize it—and she melted for him. Every. Single. Time.

“You have to go. Now.” Before she threw herself at him again. Crawled on his lap and rubbed herself over every delicious inch of his body. Maybe when she was done with that, she could lick— No. Absolutely not. She shook off that imagining before she broke out into a sweat. “Right now.”

His sigh should have pushed her back a step. “It’s just dinner, Susie.”

Sure it was. Last time, they’d just been
talking
. She opened her eyes to give him a glare.

Back in the chair, he’d leaned his big body against the wall next to the table, that haggardness she’d seen earlier making him impossibly sexier. Golden bristles of a heavy five-o’clock shadow on his jaw and cheeks. Heavy-lidded blue eyes, shadowed and watchful, peered at her with a patience that made her whole body vibrate. He must have remembered too, because a slow, sensual smile spread across his face, freeing dimples on either side and showing off his perfect white teeth. Tigers couldn’t look so predatory.

Susie dropped into the chair opposite him, her knees shaking and her underwear in a state she refused to admit to.

His brows rose in question.

“Shut up and eat.” She grabbed her own spoon and stabbed it into the bowl.
Keep your eyes on the plate and pretend he’s not here. He’s not here. Food magically created itself and he’s not here.

A deep, warm chuckle forced its way through her mantra.

Don’t talk to him. He’ll go away if you don’t talk to him.
A total lie, but it wasn’t like she was listening to herself anyway. She was already glaring at him again. “What are you laughing at?”

“Nothing. Bread?” He offered a torn piece of the loaf with one hand, his gaze gobbling her up at the same time.

“You suck at the innocent act, Locke, so knock it off already.” She snatched the bread from him. She was mad, not stupid.

His big shoulder shrugged as he tore another piece for himself. “It’s just nice to see you being more like…
you
.”

“Which is?” This ought to be good. She blew on the steaming spoonful of what looked like some kind of rice soup with pieces of chicken in it. Did he find that in her freezer or was it something else purloined from the elder twins?

“Not afraid of me.”

Once more, her gaze snapped to his. “I’m not—”

“You have been.” Banked anger flared to life in his eyes.

She couldn’t help it, she flinched.

Locke’s mouth tightened into a flat line, his back straightened, affront filling every line of him.

Guilt, her new best friend, flooded her. She reached out without thinking, grabbing his hand, feeling worse when his rough fingers tightened reflexively around her own. “It’s not like that, all right? I know you’d never physically hurt me. You’re not that kind of man.”

“I’m not the kind who would hurt you any other way either,” he said quietly, his thumb sliding over the back of her hand.

Her breath shuddered out of her. Damn it, she didn’t want to have this talk with him. Not yet. But with every stroke of his finger, she softened a little bit more. Truth spilled out before she could stop it. “You might. Without even trying.”

Possibly more than anyone else in her life. A crazy sentiment, considering how acrimonious their relationship had been over the two years since they’d met, but that didn’t make it any less true. She trusted Locke, for small and grudging things, which was more than she trusted anyone else. He’d won it from her, though, with his forthrightness. The nobility that seemed a natural part of him. The fact that he’d managed to raise his siblings without killing or maiming any of them—a feat she certainly couldn’t have promised, especially not with that brood. But every single one of them would jump in front of a train for him, a fact he never seemed to exploit.

In her life, exploitation was all she knew to expect. From her mother to her former friends, right up to her ex-husband. There had only been one person she’d ever tried believing in and the price of that trust had been catastrophic. She’d vowed not to take that kind of chance again…but then came him.

Locke stopped stroking, now turning her palm up so he could lace their fingers together. He stared at their joined hands as if concentration alone would keep them together. “You could hurt me too, Suze.”

No, she already had. Deeply. And she would keep hurting him, without wanting to. But what good would apologies be, when she would just do it again and again and again? She knew too well, apologies like that weren’t worth shit.

He looked up, all the intensity of him—intensity she’d felt in his arms, had willingly drowned in and craved ever since—fixed on her. Only Locke could offer everything of himself in just a look. Words just weren’t his thing, but oh…the man could stare entire conversations. Then, probably just because it would kill her, he spoke, low and husky as a whisper could go. “I’m willing to take the risk.”

Would he? When she told him the truth? When he knew the secrets she’d purposefully kept from him? When she told him why she could never give him in return what he offered so freely?

Yes, she realized, looking into the calm depths of his gaze. He would still risk everything on her.

Somehow, that made it so much worse.

She swallowed, but the lump in her throat refused to budge. There wouldn’t be any budging him either, but she had to try. “You need to find yourself another girl, Jackman. One who doesn’t make you miserable.”

“Why would I do that when I like the one I’ve got just fine?”

Her harsh spurt of laughter caught her by complete surprise, along with a wave of relief she didn’t want to analyze. She was too tired to analyze anymore tonight. “
Why
do I find your bullshit so charming?”

“Not sure, but I’d be a damn fool if I didn’t make use of it.” To her shock, he disentangled their hands and put hers back over her spoon. “How about this? We’ll eat. We don’t have to talk. Just eat. After that, you can throw me out if you want to and I’ll go without a word.”

She narrowed an eye at him. “If I
want
to?”

Only a man who’d spent his entire life being stoic as stone could have looked at her so evenly and said, “I’ll even keep the bullshit to a minimum, so you won’t be tempted to keep me.”

She just barely held the smile in before she finally turned to the food and ate.

So far, so good…

Locke silently measured the improvement in Susie’s color with each spoonful of the rice-chicken soup. Blooming pink now, after two steaming bowls. The kids had all liked this soup when they were sick, and the best part was that it pretty much had to be made in bulk, so there was plenty for her to reheat later. Watching her sop up the remnants with the garlic bread just made him feel better about pushing his way into her space. She might be the most independent person he ever met but damn if the woman didn’t need a keeper.

Her fridge had been in serious need of a hazmat investigation. If she’d slept another hour, he wouldn’t have been able to keep himself from calling Jimmy’s Grocery and getting them to do a delivery for him. All she seemed to have was instant oatmeal, salad fixings and watermelon. How the hell was she living on
that
? But if a man wanted to keep his balls, he didn’t ask questions like that of Susie Packard. Which was why Locke generally preferred not to bother with the inconvenience of unimportant questions. Still, he had to tread carefully. This was the closest she’d allowed him in months and he couldn’t afford to blow it.

“You’re thinking again,” she murmured, those gorgeous eyes of hers looking sleepy and sexy and almost too tempting to ignore. Would she let him put her to bed before she melted right there at the table? Or should he wait until she finally fell asleep? Then he’d get the bonus of carrying her. Maybe even another of those sighs with his name in it…

“I’m always thinking.”

“You’re thinking about
me
,” she added, a small frown trying to pucker her brows together. It wasn’t getting much traction. She’d be out in seconds if he could get her to shut up.

“When’s the last time you had a good night’s sleep?”

Her mouth quirked with what she’d probably call irritation. “You’re not sidestepping my question, Jackman.”

“I think it qualified more as an accusation.”

“Which means you heard it and chose to ignore it.”

“I always ignore accusations.” Didn’t everybody?

She didn’t sigh, like most did. Just looked at him with that deadpan blinkless stare.

He stared back. What did she expect? They both knew he was thinking about her. He’d been thinking about her for two damn years, ever since she’d pulled up in front of his store in a dirty tan Nissan flatbed minitruck. She’d been wearing worn jeans hugging her ass like they owned it, an orange T-shirt with bleach spots all over it and a pair of red plastic sunglasses. What man with blood in his veins
wasn’t
thinking about her?