for a moment. “Look at you now. There isn’t a woman in this town between the ages of twenty and thirty-five you haven’t been with. That kind of lifestyle isn’t conducive to a loving marriage.”
“First, that’s not true and second, I’m not married.” Granted, he’d sowed his oats, but his reputation far exceeded reality. Frustration lapped at him that she’d use town gossip against him. “Yes. But what if you got tired of me? The same woman, day after day, week after week, year after year? I know you think your inability to commit to a relationship now is my fault, but be honest, Mitch, you like the excitement, the variety. It’s easy to blame me, and I’m willing to take it. But, in the end, the only one you hurt is you. What’s the saying? Holding on to anger is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die?”
Mitch was taken aback at her tirade. He wanted to respond equally, reminding her that he had good reason to accuse her of being the cause of their break up. Had she talked to her parents about his attempts to contact her years ago? But then he reminded himself of her situation. It was wrong to poke at her when she was so raw and vulnerable.
He was about to apologize when she said, “I know you care for Jenny and wish it was me not her, but—”
“Wait. Stop. I don’t wish it was you in Jenny’s place.”
She pursed her lips and glared in response.
Anger flared in him. What kind of man did she think he was? “Syd, I may be hurt and bitter about what happened between us, but I don’t want you hurt or dead.” God. The idea of it soured his stomach. “In fact, I don’t want you dead so much that I’m going to protect you, which means you’re coming home with me tonight.”
Chapter Eight
S ydney unlocked the front door of her apartment. How had she let Mitch talk her into going home with him? He admitted to being angry and bitter, so why not pawn her off on some other poor cop to babysit? Did he want to continue to hassle her? She was getting tired of it and decided she’d call him on it the next time he whined at her about the wrong she’d done him. Clearly, he was too dense to see his own part in their breakup, and she wasn’t going to endure his adolescent complaints anymore.
“I’ll just grab a few things.” She pushed through the door and headed to her bedroom. She grabbed her overnight bag and started throwing clothes in. How many nights would she be there? One? Two? Maybe forever? Oh, good God, Syd. He’d been so sweet and comforting while she shared her story. He’d embraced her as she cried, held her hand to bolster her confidence. She knew it was just the cop in him trying to help a victim, but her heart hoped it meant something else. How was it a little part of her still longed for him?
Deciding it could be a couple of days, she tossed in undergarments, a pair of shorts, a pair of jeans, two T-shirts, and two dresses for work from her closet. Finally, she grabbed her running shoes, shorts, and sports tops. No sense in not exercising, especially now her life was in turmoil. Running was the one time she could clear her mind and let life slip away.
When she re-emerged from her bedroom, Mitch was scanning her bookshelves. “Still a big romance fan, eh?”
“Yes.” She waited for his inevitable snark about reading fluff.
Instead, he turned to her. “Ready?”
She scanned her apartment to see if there was anything else she should take. Her gaze stopped on the moonshine. Deciding she needed it, she entered her kitchen and grabbed the bottle by the stem. As she did, her box of unicorn cookies caught her eye. She needed that too. Hoisting her overnight bag more securely over her shoulder, she snatched the box of cookies and headed back to Mitch. “Ready.”
His brows rose at the sight of her. “What are you, eight?” He nodded toward the cookies.
“I like them.” She bit out the words.
“I see you have something to wash them down
“First, that’s not true and second, I’m not married.” Granted, he’d sowed his oats, but his reputation far exceeded reality. Frustration lapped at him that she’d use town gossip against him. “Yes. But what if you got tired of me? The same woman, day after day, week after week, year after year? I know you think your inability to commit to a relationship now is my fault, but be honest, Mitch, you like the excitement, the variety. It’s easy to blame me, and I’m willing to take it. But, in the end, the only one you hurt is you. What’s the saying? Holding on to anger is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die?”
Mitch was taken aback at her tirade. He wanted to respond equally, reminding her that he had good reason to accuse her of being the cause of their break up. Had she talked to her parents about his attempts to contact her years ago? But then he reminded himself of her situation. It was wrong to poke at her when she was so raw and vulnerable.
He was about to apologize when she said, “I know you care for Jenny and wish it was me not her, but—”
“Wait. Stop. I don’t wish it was you in Jenny’s place.”
She pursed her lips and glared in response.
Anger flared in him. What kind of man did she think he was? “Syd, I may be hurt and bitter about what happened between us, but I don’t want you hurt or dead.” God. The idea of it soured his stomach. “In fact, I don’t want you dead so much that I’m going to protect you, which means you’re coming home with me tonight.”
Chapter Eight
S ydney unlocked the front door of her apartment. How had she let Mitch talk her into going home with him? He admitted to being angry and bitter, so why not pawn her off on some other poor cop to babysit? Did he want to continue to hassle her? She was getting tired of it and decided she’d call him on it the next time he whined at her about the wrong she’d done him. Clearly, he was too dense to see his own part in their breakup, and she wasn’t going to endure his adolescent complaints anymore.
“I’ll just grab a few things.” She pushed through the door and headed to her bedroom. She grabbed her overnight bag and started throwing clothes in. How many nights would she be there? One? Two? Maybe forever? Oh, good God, Syd. He’d been so sweet and comforting while she shared her story. He’d embraced her as she cried, held her hand to bolster her confidence. She knew it was just the cop in him trying to help a victim, but her heart hoped it meant something else. How was it a little part of her still longed for him?
Deciding it could be a couple of days, she tossed in undergarments, a pair of shorts, a pair of jeans, two T-shirts, and two dresses for work from her closet. Finally, she grabbed her running shoes, shorts, and sports tops. No sense in not exercising, especially now her life was in turmoil. Running was the one time she could clear her mind and let life slip away.
When she re-emerged from her bedroom, Mitch was scanning her bookshelves. “Still a big romance fan, eh?”
“Yes.” She waited for his inevitable snark about reading fluff.
Instead, he turned to her. “Ready?”
She scanned her apartment to see if there was anything else she should take. Her gaze stopped on the moonshine. Deciding she needed it, she entered her kitchen and grabbed the bottle by the stem. As she did, her box of unicorn cookies caught her eye. She needed that too. Hoisting her overnight bag more securely over her shoulder, she snatched the box of cookies and headed back to Mitch. “Ready.”
His brows rose at the sight of her. “What are you, eight?” He nodded toward the cookies.
“I like them.” She bit out the words.
“I see you have something to wash them down
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