hell am I going to do with it?â
âFlynnâs got plenty of room at his place.â
âYeah.â She sighed. âYeah, he does. I guess thatâs the way itâll have to be. He canât get pissed, because Malory will just bat her eyelashes and turn him into putty.â
They divvied up, loaded up. The drive back to Flynnâs gave her time to wonder how theyâd managed to be in each otherâs company for the best part of an hour without a fight.
He hadnât been a jerk, which, she decided, was a rare thing.
And, she was forced to admit, she hadnât been one either. Equally rare when Jordan was involved.
Maybe, just maybe, they could manage to coexist, even cooperate, for the short term. If, as everyone else insisted, he was part of the quest, she needed him around.
Added to that, he had a good brain and a fluid imagination. He could be more than an annoyance through this. He could be an actual asset.
When they arrived at Flynnâs, she had to concede that ithelped to have a man around who was willing to play pack mule with a dozen gallons of paint and the supplies that went with it.
âDining room,â she said, straining a little under the load she carried. âHe never uses it.â
âHeâs going to.â Jordan wound his way through the house, veered off into the dining room. âMalory has major plans.â
âShe always does. She makes him happy.â
âNo question about that.â He headed back out for the next load. âLily put some serious holes in his ego,â he added, referring to Flynnâs ex-fiancée.
âIt wasnât just his ego.â She pulled out a bag loaded with extra paint rollers, brushes, shiny metal pans. âShe hurt him. When somebody dumps you and runs off, it hurts.â
âBest thing that couldâve happened to him.â
âThat isnât the issue.â She could feel the resentment, the hurt, the anger starting to brew in her belly. Struggling to ignore it, she hauled out more cans. âThe issue is pain, betrayal, and loss.â
He said nothing as they carried the rest of the supplies to the dining room. Nothing until they set them down, and he turned to face her. âI didnât dump you.â
She could actually feel the hair on the back of her neck rise. âNot every statement I make involves you.â
âI had to go,â he continued. âYou had to stay. You were still in college, for Christâs sake.â
âThat didnât stop you from getting me into bed.â
âNo, it didnât. Nothing could have. I had a hunger for you, Dana. There were times I felt like Iâd starve to death if I couldnât get a bite of you.â
She stepped back, gave him an up-and-down study. âLooks like youâve been eating well enough the last few years.â
âDoesnât mean I stopped thinking about you. You meant something to me.â
âOh, go to hell.â It didnât explode out of her, but was said flatly, which gave it more power. â Meant something to you? A goddamn pair of shoes can mean something to you. I loved you.â
If sheâd delivered a bare-knuckled punch to his face, heâd have been no less shocked. âYou . . . you never said that. You never once said the L word to me.â
âBecause you were supposed to say it first. The guyâs supposed to say it first.â
âHold on just a minute. Is that a rule?â Panic was trickling down the back of his throat like acid. âWhereâs it written down?â
âIt just is , you stupid jerk. I loved you, and Iâd have waited, or Iâdâve gone with you. But you just said, Listen, Stretch, Iâm pulling up stakes and going to New York. Itâs been fun, see you around.â
âThatâs not true, Dana. It wasnât like that.â
âClose enough. Nobodyâs ever hurt me like that.
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