could barely drive fast enough.
Besides, if the nightmares from what had been done to her all of those years ago weren’t enough to paralyze her in terror, then she sure as hell wasn’t going to let a fucking
car wreck
do it.
CHAPTER
FOUR
“W HAT IN THE
HELL
DO YOU THINK YOU ’ RE DOING ?”
At the sound of his sister’s irate voice, Elliot closed his eyes and just remained where he was, sprawled on the floor, straightening out the mess the Danver kids had left when their parents had finally vacated the store.
Considering how pissed off she sounded, he knew he wasn’t in any mood to tangle with her.
They’d already tangled over the Danver kids. She’d wanted to tear into the mom and dad the second they’d stepped foot in the store. The last time the kids had been there, they’d left bubble gum inside books and one had thrown a board book down a toilet.
Elliot had decided to give them the benefit of the doubt.
He’d been in the wrong—as evidenced by the thirty or forty dollars’ worth of destroyed merchandise surrounding him.
Bunch of hooligans. He honestly didn’t mind if parents wanted to bring their kids in to just
browse
—very often
browsing
led to
buying
. And a bookstore couldn’t exactly stay in business if people didn’t
buy
. But who in the hell was going to buy the books that those kids had trashed?
After he’d pointed that out to the parents, they’d gottenrather insulted and informed him, “We’ll just take our business elsewhere.”
He’d then felt the need to mention, “You don’t exactly do any business here anyway, so that’s just fine.”
They hadn’t approved.
Lorna had barely managed to keep the
I told you so
quiet until they’d taken their five kids out of the store. Once the bell jangled shut behind them, though, she’d whirled around and laid into him as if the kids had destroyed bricks of solid gold.
Elliot was a wise man. He knew when to advance … and when to retreat.
He’d retreated into the aisles to clean up the mess; he was perfectly happy to stay right there until she cooled off.
Tuning out the low murmur of voices coming from the front, he picked up a scrap of paper and stared at it glumly. Hell, didn’t those idiots bother to teach their kids that books were for
reading? Not
for tearing up? He could have understood if any of the kids had been under five or so, but the youngest Danver kid was about seven or eight.
Hearing a soft footstep behind him, he said, “Give me a second to clear the mess up—sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
Need punched through him a second before the recognition hit. His body, his heart … those parts of him remembered Shay just a little better than his mind did. He looked up in time to see her easing her way down to the floor, a wary look on her face.
The bruises were still there—those faint shadows of color lingering on her pale, soft skin. He’d seen them yesterday and it had been like a kick to the gut. She didn’t look much better today—tired, strained, and in pain.
Yet she still looked amazingly beautiful.
And she smelled so damn good. Like the first snow, springtime, and citrus, all wrapped up together. Sitting as close as she was, he had that scent flooding his head now, making it hard to think. For weeks after he’d broken up with her, he’d caught the faintest ghost of her scent on his jackets. Now he was surrounded by it again and it was torture.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, tearing his gaze away from her and forcing his attention back to the mangled remains of children’s books.
“I wanted to talk to you about something,” she said softly. She reached out and touched one of the books, her fingers brushing against the cracked spine. “Man, somebody had fun back here.”
“The Danver family was in.”
“Ahhhh. That would explain it.” She gathered up the books around her.
“I can get them.” Hearing the terse sound of his own voice, he sighed and rubbed a hand down his
Besides, if the nightmares from what had been done to her all of those years ago weren’t enough to paralyze her in terror, then she sure as hell wasn’t going to let a fucking
car wreck
do it.
CHAPTER
FOUR
“W HAT IN THE
HELL
DO YOU THINK YOU ’ RE DOING ?”
At the sound of his sister’s irate voice, Elliot closed his eyes and just remained where he was, sprawled on the floor, straightening out the mess the Danver kids had left when their parents had finally vacated the store.
Considering how pissed off she sounded, he knew he wasn’t in any mood to tangle with her.
They’d already tangled over the Danver kids. She’d wanted to tear into the mom and dad the second they’d stepped foot in the store. The last time the kids had been there, they’d left bubble gum inside books and one had thrown a board book down a toilet.
Elliot had decided to give them the benefit of the doubt.
He’d been in the wrong—as evidenced by the thirty or forty dollars’ worth of destroyed merchandise surrounding him.
Bunch of hooligans. He honestly didn’t mind if parents wanted to bring their kids in to just
browse
—very often
browsing
led to
buying
. And a bookstore couldn’t exactly stay in business if people didn’t
buy
. But who in the hell was going to buy the books that those kids had trashed?
After he’d pointed that out to the parents, they’d gottenrather insulted and informed him, “We’ll just take our business elsewhere.”
He’d then felt the need to mention, “You don’t exactly do any business here anyway, so that’s just fine.”
They hadn’t approved.
Lorna had barely managed to keep the
I told you so
quiet until they’d taken their five kids out of the store. Once the bell jangled shut behind them, though, she’d whirled around and laid into him as if the kids had destroyed bricks of solid gold.
Elliot was a wise man. He knew when to advance … and when to retreat.
He’d retreated into the aisles to clean up the mess; he was perfectly happy to stay right there until she cooled off.
Tuning out the low murmur of voices coming from the front, he picked up a scrap of paper and stared at it glumly. Hell, didn’t those idiots bother to teach their kids that books were for
reading? Not
for tearing up? He could have understood if any of the kids had been under five or so, but the youngest Danver kid was about seven or eight.
Hearing a soft footstep behind him, he said, “Give me a second to clear the mess up—sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
Need punched through him a second before the recognition hit. His body, his heart … those parts of him remembered Shay just a little better than his mind did. He looked up in time to see her easing her way down to the floor, a wary look on her face.
The bruises were still there—those faint shadows of color lingering on her pale, soft skin. He’d seen them yesterday and it had been like a kick to the gut. She didn’t look much better today—tired, strained, and in pain.
Yet she still looked amazingly beautiful.
And she smelled so damn good. Like the first snow, springtime, and citrus, all wrapped up together. Sitting as close as she was, he had that scent flooding his head now, making it hard to think. For weeks after he’d broken up with her, he’d caught the faintest ghost of her scent on his jackets. Now he was surrounded by it again and it was torture.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, tearing his gaze away from her and forcing his attention back to the mangled remains of children’s books.
“I wanted to talk to you about something,” she said softly. She reached out and touched one of the books, her fingers brushing against the cracked spine. “Man, somebody had fun back here.”
“The Danver family was in.”
“Ahhhh. That would explain it.” She gathered up the books around her.
“I can get them.” Hearing the terse sound of his own voice, he sighed and rubbed a hand down his
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