Hurting To Feel (Carpool Dolls) (6 page)

"What?"
he snapped.

"Um,
Nate?" Addison asked. "I'm–"

"Are
you at home?" He put his keys in the car and started the engine.

"Yes,"
she whispered.

"Stay
there." He disconnected the call.

If
she wanted to play games, he'd show her who Nathan Rafferty really was. A thug
from the wrong side of town. A man who'd rather beat her than love her. Maybe then,
he could get her out of his head and get his life back on track.

Chapter
Six

At
the sight of Nate walking up to her door, Addison closed the curtain and blew
out her breath.
What am I doing?

She
pressed a hand to her stomach. Maybe she should've waited to call him.

Nate
banged on the door instead of using the doorbell. She wrapped her sweater coat
around her tightly, and moved over to let him in. Too late now, he was here.

Looming
in the doorway, Nate's gaze assaulted her. She gasped, pulling him inside.
"What happened to you?'

He
remained silent, his upper lip encrusted in blood. She reached up and stopped
herself from touching his face. His cheekbone swollen under one eye seemed to
make him even scarier. She guided him to the chair in the living room.

"Sit."
She hurried out of the room.

In
the kitchen, she grabbed two dish clothes. As she let the faucet run, she
scooped a handful of ice from the freezer and placed it in one of the towels.
Then she ran the other towel under the warm water and rung the rag out.

She
returned to him and kneeled at his feet. "Did you get in an
accident?"

He
shook his head, or maybe he flinched away from her she couldn't tell until he
said, "No."

"Are
you hurt anywhere else?" Her gaze dropped to his bare chest.

"No."

There
was smeared blood over his upper abdomen, but she found no visible wounds. Her
hand shook as she cleaned the cut on his lip. She glanced up into his eyes and
cringed. She couldn't read the intensity of his gaze, but his emotions he
directed at her as if she were the cause of him arriving at her house in this
condition.

"Why?"
he said, not showing any sign that she caused him pain by pressing on his cut
lip.

She
picked up the other towel filled with ice and handed it to him.
"What?"

When
he let the cold pack fall to his lap, she pressed it on the side of his face
for him. When he let her help him, she tried again. "I don't know what
you're asking, Nate," she whispered.

"You
didn't open the door," he said.

She
used her free hand to clean his chest with the other towel. "I wasn't
home. Mrs. Lindsay called me from next door. Her breaker flipped, and she's
unable to go down the stairs to the basement. That happens at least once a
month, and it's easier for her to call me than a repairman who'll charge
her."

He
touched the back of his hand to his mouth, and she barely had time to fall back
on her bottom to get out of his way as he stood. "You didn't fucking open
the door."

She
scrambled to her feet. "I know. I told you, I was—"

"I
know what you said." He whirled around and faced her. "You weren't
here. You didn't open the door."

Angered
over his outburst, she scooped up the towels. "Whatever. There's the door,
use it."

"Answer
me," he said.

She
shook her head. "I don't answer to you or anyone. Please leave."

He
remained.

Used
to avoiding arguments, she marched out of the room, down the hallway, and
entered the laundry room at the back of the house. She threw the towels in the
empty washer and slammed the lid down. He had no reason to be mad at her.

She
wasn't home when he came by the house. Yesterday, she'd told him not to come
over. It wasn't her fault he ignored her wishes and came looking for her. She
regretted calling him now.

Deciding
she'd rather stay in the laundry room than face Nate, she folded her gym
clothes she pulled out of the dryer prior to helping Mrs. Lindsay. She
should've thrown away his business card he'd left at her house in the first
place, and not called him. That's what she gets for being stupid, and thinking
the polite thing to do is thank him for the flowers he'd left.

God,
he could be a problem.

She'd
thought of nothing else, but him, since climbing into his car, and she hated
and loved the feelings he brought out in her. But, she couldn't continue seeing
him. He represented everything she'd sworn to stay far, far away from her whole
life.

She
eyed the stack of clothes. Someone had to put a stop to the insanity, and considering
he was in her house, she walked out of the room to send him away.

Nate
stood in front of the living room window, gazing out into the night. She
hesitated, studying his back. Still shirtless, his muscles twitched. From all appearances,
he hadn't calmed down.

"Nate?"
She walked to the side of the couch, thinking a piece of furniture would keep
her from touching him. "I'm not sure what happened tonight and I'm sorry
you were hurt, but I think you need to leave."

"Why?"
He remained facing the window.

His
voice, unemotional and flat, hurt her. She blew up her cheeks, held her breath,
and slowly let the air out. "Because you're not the type of man I normally
date. I don't want to lead you on. I'm sorry. I know I did, and I feel
bad—"

"Bad?"
He turned around. She stepped behind the couch, and he held up his arms. "Jesus,
will you stop that."

"You're
angry." She glanced at the floor before meeting his gaze. "You're
sorta freaking me out. We slept together. That's it. Then you show up pissed
off and bloody as if someone beat you up, being a jerk to me, and expect me to
want you again. What am I supposed to think?"

"Do
you think I'm going to hurt you?" he asked.

She
closed her eyes for a long blink, and then told him the truth. "I don't
know. You scare me."

He
looked up to the ceiling and when he returned his gaze, he'd masked his anger.
"You would've opened the door earlier."

It
wasn't a question. He stated the obvious. She nodded. Despite her better
judgment, she knew deep in her soul she would've let him in. Then she would've
regretted it. And even later, she would've missed him when he left.

She
stepped around the couch. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah."
He held up his hands as if seeing their condition for the first time.

"What
happened?"

"I—he
laughed harshly—visited my past, that's all."

"I
don't understand." She crossed her arms. "You're hurt."

"I'm
fine." He inhaled deeply. "It doesn't matter. I came here…but
earlier, I decided not to contact you again. But, you called. Addy, you
called
me."

She
stepped closer. "You're not making sense."

One
side of his mouth lifted, the side that wasn't split open, and he shrugged.
"You're right. I'm not the type of man for you, but that doesn't stop me
from wanting you."

In
the silence, she stared at him. Half of her wanted to agree with him and the
other half wanted to understand why he believed her when it was obvious she was
attracted to him. She'd experienced something so wonderful last night; she was
scared to let it go. What did that say about her?

Her
reasons for not getting involved with him were personal. He represented
everything she'd run from growing up. The father she hated, who didn't even
know her because he denied he had a daughter, had everything he ever wanted,
just like Nate. His business came first. His reputation came before his own
flesh and blood. Her mother, despite the inconvenience of raising a daughter,
told her often how being mixed up with a man who was more powerful than her
would suck the life right out of her. Then she'd watched her mother run herself
into the grave trying to forget the one night when she'd sold her soul to the
devil.

She
would not sell her soul to the devil or Nate.

Nate
broke away from her gaze. "Goodbye, Addy."

She
nodded, watching him walk out of her life. Proud and strong, he carried himself
as if he'd battled his own demons tonight. Why he'd shown up at her house
bloody and broken, she'd never know. She chewed on her bottom lip. He'd grown
up on the streets. He'd said he'd returned to the past.

She
hurried to the door and grabbed the handle before he could shut it.
"Nate?"

He
turned.

"Take
care of yourself, okay? Put some ice on your—she pointed to her face—you're
going to have a black eye tomorrow."

He
stiffened, and seemed to study her. Whatever he was thinking obviously confused
him because he leaned toward her and kissed her forehead. Not a peck, not a
practiced move meaning thanks for cleaning up my face. No, he laid his lips on
her skin and stayed there. Then he inhaled deeply before pulling away.

"Lock
the door, doll," he whispered. Then he walked away from her again.

His
leaving wasn't a break up. They weren't in a relationship that required a
formal goodbye. She leaned against the closed door. If what they had could only
be called a night of great sex, then why did it feel like her heart was
breaking?

Chapter
Seven

After
her last ride of the day, Addison chose to walk the three blocks to the parking
garage. Making an excuse to Harold, one of her regular Friday night clients,
she planned to use the extra time to herself to decompress after a stressful
day by enjoying the fall air before heading home. She hoped the extra exercise
would allow her to get a good night's sleep for once this week.

She
ignored the real reason for going down Fifth Street, instead of Fourth Street the
past three nights. She gazed up at the Rafferty Tower, while keeping a tight
hold on the purse hung over her shoulder. There was nothing to see, but the six
story, gray building with a few lights still on. Yet, she searched the windows
anyway.

Despite
trying to rid Nate from her mind, he'd taken up residency in her head. She
tried to convince herself she was worried about his health, and wanted to make
sure he'd treated his eye properly when he left her house. She even tried to
blame her obsessive interest in him on simple curiosity about the mysterious
bachelor.

But,
she lied. She wanted to see him.

If
someone asked her if she'd jump out of a plane knowing she'd die when she hit
the ground, tonight, she'd probably answer yes. That's the extreme, out of
control, make her insane, way she felt about Nate. Her attachment to him scared
her to death. She wouldn't be surprised if he had a Surgeon General's Warning
tattooed on his ass.

The
fact she was outside of Nate's building at seven o'clock at night proved she
was exactly like the mother who despised everything about her and died after
telling her what a huge disappointment she was. So, she forced herself to
believe Nate was just like her father.

Unfair?

Yes.

Necessary?

Absolutely.

Faced
with her inability to control herself, she stopped at the corner, pushed the
crosswalk light, and waited for her signal to go home. Tomorrow was Saturday.
Over the weekend, she'd make sure she got Nate out of her thoughts before
Monday.

"Addison?"
A male voice called.

She
jolted, turning around. Her smile came easily. "Hello, Mr. Cartmen."

Carrying
his suit coat over his shoulder, his tie loosened, and the first couple buttons
of his shirt undone, Mr. Cartmen glanced around. She followed his gaze,
thinking he was looking for his ride.

"Working
tonight?" he said.

She
shook her head. "No, I just got done with my last ride."

"Wonderful."
He stepped closer. "I'm done for the day, and planned on going out for
dinner and a drink. I'd love it if you'd join me."

"Oh,
I couldn't." She lifted her phone, looked at the display as if she were
running late. "It's nice of you to ask though. Thank you."

"Come
on, a drink then…it won't take any time at all." He placed his hand on her
back and turned her around.

"No,
really." She planted her feet. "I'm running late."

"Addison,"
he practically cooed as he put his hands on her shoulders, working his way up
until he hooked her neck. "A little drink. Away from the rules of the
Carpool Dolls. Just you and me."

She
pulled against his hold, but he wouldn't let go. "Mr. Cartmen,
please."

He
leaned in at the same time the squeal from a car's tires rounded the corner.
She jerked her head and saw a black BMW skid to a stop at the curb, the window
went down, and Nate filled the car. Every muscle in her body unconstructed at
the sight of him, and she exhaled.