I am, but you’ll learn I’m a man of my word.”
A secret, stupid girlie part of myself I thought had died years ago latched onto Beach’s words with a desperate hope. I wanted to trust someone enough to take care of me, to hold me in the darkness so I wasn’t alone, but it was tough. The world was a harsh place filled with predators who blinded those they intended to devour with pretty words. Instead of finding safety in the arms of my boyfriends, I’d found traps, and I was determined not to fall into another one.
I tried to fight the tiny pinprick of hope in my chest, telling myself Beach wasn’t good boyfriend material, that he was bad news. Still, what he’d said sank into me and softened the pain flowing through me. I resisted the forbidden temptation of trusting a man, yet he seemed so earnest. And he’d taken care of me back in that horrible room. He’d fought through the crowd to reach me. He said I was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen and meant it.
He called me his queen.
My temples throbbed and I raised a hand to the back of my head, probing the goose egg there where I’d been pistol-whipped.
“Why,” I bit back a wince as I probed the wound, my hair all matted with dried blood and super nasty, “do you have a Spanish accent and yet you look like a really tanned Swedish guy?”
Humor danced in his eyes and I realized it had gotten bright enough that I could tell their true color, a blue so deep it was almost black, midnight blue in the truest sense of the words. Add to that the thick lashes framing those amazing eyes, along with his light copper skin, and you had a supremely hot man. The tense lines around his eyes eased a bit and he gently ran his scarred and tattooed knuckles down my cheek, leaving tingles in their wake.
“First-generation American,” he said with a small smile, “on my father’s side. He was Mexican, a professional dirt bike racer. My mother’s a lovely Texas lady who runs catfish tours. Spent the first six years of my life down in Mexico before we came back to the States with my dad. He passed away few years back, and my mom still works ’cause she loves her job.”
Blinking, I cocked my head to the side and grinned. “Your mama runs catfish tours?”
“Yep, her name’s Mouse. She’ll like you.”
“What?”
“She’ll like you ’cause you saved my life, and ’cause I like you.”
“Did you hit your head too hard?”
Smiling down at the phone while he sent another text, he murmured, “Boys are on their way. ETA fifteen minutes.”
He stared at my lips and I thought, despite our mutual battered state, he might kiss me, but the phone rang and Beach looked at me with a raised, blood-flecked dark blond eyebrow.
“Your dad is calling.”
Chapter 5
Carlos “Beach” Rodriguez
I watched Sarah closely as she answered the phone, wondering if it was just a coincidence her daddy was checking in on her.
With a huff and an eye roll that made her momentarily appear younger, less jaded, she answered the phone. “Delta six eight breaker times two I’m happy-dappy Daddy-o, now calm the heck down. It’s not good for your heart.”
Baffled, I wondered if she had a concussion, but her pupil response was normal and she seemed coherent. Still, it worried me and I examined her closer, noting the line between her eyebrows deepening as a man yelled hard enough through the phone it made her wince. Caller ID had said “Dad” calling, but now I was wondering who the fuck was going off on her.
“Put Mimi on,” she said in a tight voice. “No, I’m not listening to you when you’re like this. I get you’re scared, and I appreciate you telling me that—your honesty really shows you’re working hard with your therapist, but that does not excuse you for losing your shit. Now put Mimi on .”
Well, it didn’t look like she’d have a problem standing up to her dad.
Made my life easier to know my woman could handle herself, not that I’m gonna let
A secret, stupid girlie part of myself I thought had died years ago latched onto Beach’s words with a desperate hope. I wanted to trust someone enough to take care of me, to hold me in the darkness so I wasn’t alone, but it was tough. The world was a harsh place filled with predators who blinded those they intended to devour with pretty words. Instead of finding safety in the arms of my boyfriends, I’d found traps, and I was determined not to fall into another one.
I tried to fight the tiny pinprick of hope in my chest, telling myself Beach wasn’t good boyfriend material, that he was bad news. Still, what he’d said sank into me and softened the pain flowing through me. I resisted the forbidden temptation of trusting a man, yet he seemed so earnest. And he’d taken care of me back in that horrible room. He’d fought through the crowd to reach me. He said I was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen and meant it.
He called me his queen.
My temples throbbed and I raised a hand to the back of my head, probing the goose egg there where I’d been pistol-whipped.
“Why,” I bit back a wince as I probed the wound, my hair all matted with dried blood and super nasty, “do you have a Spanish accent and yet you look like a really tanned Swedish guy?”
Humor danced in his eyes and I realized it had gotten bright enough that I could tell their true color, a blue so deep it was almost black, midnight blue in the truest sense of the words. Add to that the thick lashes framing those amazing eyes, along with his light copper skin, and you had a supremely hot man. The tense lines around his eyes eased a bit and he gently ran his scarred and tattooed knuckles down my cheek, leaving tingles in their wake.
“First-generation American,” he said with a small smile, “on my father’s side. He was Mexican, a professional dirt bike racer. My mother’s a lovely Texas lady who runs catfish tours. Spent the first six years of my life down in Mexico before we came back to the States with my dad. He passed away few years back, and my mom still works ’cause she loves her job.”
Blinking, I cocked my head to the side and grinned. “Your mama runs catfish tours?”
“Yep, her name’s Mouse. She’ll like you.”
“What?”
“She’ll like you ’cause you saved my life, and ’cause I like you.”
“Did you hit your head too hard?”
Smiling down at the phone while he sent another text, he murmured, “Boys are on their way. ETA fifteen minutes.”
He stared at my lips and I thought, despite our mutual battered state, he might kiss me, but the phone rang and Beach looked at me with a raised, blood-flecked dark blond eyebrow.
“Your dad is calling.”
Chapter 5
Carlos “Beach” Rodriguez
I watched Sarah closely as she answered the phone, wondering if it was just a coincidence her daddy was checking in on her.
With a huff and an eye roll that made her momentarily appear younger, less jaded, she answered the phone. “Delta six eight breaker times two I’m happy-dappy Daddy-o, now calm the heck down. It’s not good for your heart.”
Baffled, I wondered if she had a concussion, but her pupil response was normal and she seemed coherent. Still, it worried me and I examined her closer, noting the line between her eyebrows deepening as a man yelled hard enough through the phone it made her wince. Caller ID had said “Dad” calling, but now I was wondering who the fuck was going off on her.
“Put Mimi on,” she said in a tight voice. “No, I’m not listening to you when you’re like this. I get you’re scared, and I appreciate you telling me that—your honesty really shows you’re working hard with your therapist, but that does not excuse you for losing your shit. Now put Mimi on .”
Well, it didn’t look like she’d have a problem standing up to her dad.
Made my life easier to know my woman could handle herself, not that I’m gonna let
Similar Books
