Return of the Bad Girl Read online

  Gabe was glad that Chase was happy, if a little whipped. Then again, had his own life gone differently, he might have gone down the same road. With his past, though, he couldn’t imagine a woman like Katie giving him a second glance.

  But Katie’s blue eyes and sweet smile aren’t who you’d want anyway. You prefer dark beauties with smart-ass mouths and killer curves.

  He almost snorted out loud. Caroline was definitely not a good girl. She was fire and steel and sex in a pair of painted-on jeans and—

  “What the hell are you thinking so hard about?” Chase asked, breaking into Gabe’s lust-filled thoughts. Damn, what was it about her that could turn him into a daydreaming fool?

  “Sorry. I was trying to picture myself in your shoes, and I just can’t.”

  “You’re only thirty-four, dude,” Chase said. “You still have time.”

  Gabe didn’t say anything. What was the point?

  As if reading his mind, Chase said, “I used to think that I didn’t deserve Katie and almost lost her because of it. The only person who can really make you feel less-than worthy is you.”

  “And where’d you pick up that bit of wisdom?” Gabe said, sarcasm dripping from every word. “Not many women jump with joy when they find out I’m an ex-con who builds motorcycles for a living.”

  “First of all, you build crotch rockets,” Chase said, ignoring the bird Gabe flipped him. “And second of all, you made a mistake, but you did your time. You paid for your mistake—”

  “Yeah, I paid five years, while Honey continues to pay for my stupidity,” Gabe said.

  Chase said nothing for a moment; then, finally, “You did something when you weren’t thinking straight. You were a hot-tempered idiot, but you’re making up for it by taking care of your sister. You fought for her and have made sure she gets the best treatment, while putting your life on hold.” Chase took a breath before adding, “At some point, you got to forgive yourself. Otherwise, you’re just going to end up bitter and alone, flogging yourself every night for the past.”

  Gabe coughed, trying to cover the emotion choking him up. Chase almost sounded like he forgave him. “I don’t need to flog myself. I can find someone to do that for me.”

  “Like Kirsten Winters?” Chase asked as he parked in front of Chloe’s Book Nook.

  “How the hell do you know about her?” Gabe asked.

  “It’s a small town. People talk. I’m just glad it’s you and not me, because the last thing I need are the biddies of this town in my business again.”

  Gabe shook his head. “I will never get used to people knowing my business before I’ve figured it out for myself.”

  “Eh, I’ve learned to take it as a compliment. It means they think you’re interesting.”

  “Well, hey, I am that,” Gabe said, holding his hand out to Chase. “Thanks again, man.”

  Chase shook it. “I really believe that you’ve changed for the better, Gabe. You don’t have to worry about us, as long as you just keep doing what you’re doing.”

  Gabe’s eyes were stinging, and he tried to shake off the emotions raging inside. No one had ever forgiven him for that night. Not the people he grew up with or his mother, who had probably died hating him for making her life harder.

  But Chase—whom he’d beaten, blamed, and cut all ties with—was forgiving him. Telling him that he knew Gabe was trying and that they were good to start over.

  Rubbing his hands over his face to wipe away any moisture, he said, “Thanks, man.”

  Chase slapped him on the back. “What can I say? I’ve matured.”

  Gabe choked out a laugh. “I appreciate that.”

  “It had to happen sometime, right?”

  “Amen.”

  Gabe climbed out and, with a wave at Chase, headed around the back of the building. Jogging up the stairs to his apartment, he was almost to the top before he heard deep, booming barks and realized they were coming from inside.

  The door swung open and although he registered Caroline standing in the doorway, holding a tiny ball of fur in her hand, that wasn’t the main focus of his oh, shit reaction. No, his eyes were trained on what could only be described as Beast from The Sandlot, stepping so close he could feel the dog’s hot breath right in his crotch.

  Please don’t bite my nuts off.

  Just as he was starting to sweat, another woman, with frizzy blonde hair, stepped up and called softly, “Killer.”

  The dog whipped around and went back inside, just as Gabe sagged against the railing, and Caroline laughed.

  “That’s not funny. I thought that dog was gonna bite my junk.”

  “Yes, because that’s exactly what he wants.”

  “Look, I don’t like dogs, especially not giant ones that come charging outside—”

  “Caroline, I’m gonna take off. If you wanna meet us later, we usually get to Hank’s around seven thirty,” the blonde said as she stepped past them, the giant dog sniffing at him as they went down the stairs.

  “Hey, thanks for keeping me company, Callie.”

  “Any time. And thanks for getting that interview set up.”

  But before he could ask what kind of interview, Caroline was already back inside. He followed behind her, closing the door with a loud click before turning to find her sitting on the couch with a baby bottle in one hand and a squirming, slurping kitten in the other.

  “So who was that woman, and why was her giant fucking dog in our apartment?” he asked, hoping the “our” would irritate her. And by the narrowing of her eyes and the clenching of her jaw, he figured he’d hit a bull’s-eye.

  “I don’t bother you about your guests,” she said.

  “My guests don’t bring Cujo with them.”

  “Killer is an extremely well-behaved dog and goes with Callie everywhere. He’s like a service animal.”

  “Service animals serve handicapped people. She didn’t look like there was anything wrong with her.”

  “There isn’t,” she snapped.

  “Then why does she need a service animal?” he asked, coming around the couch to face her. Caroline was beautiful in pajamas, looking tousled and sleepy, but in a black tank top that showed a generous amount of cleavage and blue jeans hugging her thighs, she was hotter than the blazes of hell. It was all he could do not to push her back on those plush pillows and take that full frowning mouth with his.

  But seeing how she currently had her hands occupied, and he was pretty sure she’d bite him if he tried, he refrained.

  “For post-traumatic stress. And before you ask what happened, I don’t know, and I wouldn’t talk to you about it if I did, ’cause it’s none of your fucking business—or mine.”

  Gabe watched her extract the bottle from the sleepy kitten’s mouth and place him back into a cardboard box by the couch. Getting up, she tried to move around Gabe, but he stopped her with a hand on her arm. A hand she immediately tried to shake off.

  “Let go,” she snarled.

  Tightening his grip, he said, “You might not like me, princess, but we are living together, so what you do and who you bring into this apartment is my business.”

  “Oh yeah? So I have to explain who my guests are, but you can take advantage of drunk girls in your room, and I can’t say anything?”

  “First of all,” he said, rage clipping his words, “I didn’t take advantage of anyone. I would never hurt a woman, and I definitely wouldn’t take advantage of her. But I’m also not going to leave some girl too drunk to take care of herself at a bar or her apartment and take the chance of her choking on her own vomit or something worse. So I let her stay here.” And just because he resented her accusations, he added, “And the reason why she slammed out of here all pissed off? When she woke up, hung over, and tried to start something with me . . . sexually, I told her no thanks.”

  He could tell she was struggling with whether to believe him or not, and it made him wonder how many men had hurt her. How many had taken advantage of her in some way to make her t
hink the worst of him?

  “I am not perfect, but I can promise you, I would never hurt a woman—physically or otherwise,” he said, loosening his grip on her arm. “But not everyone is like that, which is why it’s important to be careful who you bring home.”

  “You never answered me, though,” she said. “Why is it any of your business?”

  “Because if you bring the wrong guy home and he starts hurting you, I’m the one who is going to handle him.”

  She burst out laughing, shocking the hell out of him. “You think you’re going to have to rescue me?” Caroline stepped into him, as if trying to back him up against the wall, but he stood his ground. Their bodies were almost touching as she looked up at him and whispered teasingly, “I thought you weren’t a hero, Gabriel.”

  Gabe knew she was baiting him, and it worked. White-hot desire prickled his skin as he leaned into her body. Her smell wrapped around him like a blanket, lemony sweetness making his mouth water. “I’m not. I’m a bad man who has done things that would make sweet little girls like you quake in their boots.”

  “I’m not wearing boots.”

  “I’m saying, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll back up out of my face.”

  “Let’s get one thing straight. You don’t—”

  He’d given her a chance, but as he’d said before, he wasn’t a nice man. Wrapping his arm around her waist, he pulled her flush up against his body, and before she could finish her startled “What the—” his head dipped down as he claimed her mouth in a hard kiss.

  Caroline’s whole body stiffened, and he felt her tiny fist shove at him, but he held fast, sweeping his tongue out to trail across her lips. Suddenly, he felt her hand splay out against his chest and her body soften, her mouth opening and her breath mingling with his.

  Gentling his hold on her, he slipped his tongue inside, the warmth of her mouth drawing him in further. She was everything he had imagined, soft breasts pressing into him as his hands trailed down to rest against the small of her back, just above her ass. He itched to cup her and bring her closer, but he didn’t want to spook her. Deepening the kiss, he ran his hands up her back, a thrill shooting through him when her own hands slipped up to his shoulders. He caught her low moan in his mouth and lost all worry that she didn’t want him. Despite his resolve to stay away from Caroline, he couldn’t stop, not when the reality of having her in his arms was so much better than the fantasy.

  To his surprise, Caroline broke the kiss, her hands gripping his shoulders hard. “Stop. What are you doing?”

  Her voice was husky, and her eyes were still half closed, but the question was like a bucket of ice water. What was he doing? What were they doing? She had kissed him back and thoroughly enjoyed it too.

  Gabe took two steps back to give his raging cock some room. Just the brief press of her curves had given him a full-on erection, and he cursed himself for being weak, but she just kept challenging him, pushing him. He thought he’d outgrown his rash behavior years ago, but apparently, a leopard just couldn’t change his spots.

  The taste of her lingered on his lips, and just he was about to lick them, she came fully out of her stupor.

  And slapped him—hard enough to knock his head back.

  “Don’t you ever touch me again,” she said.

  Rubbing his cheek and jaw, he tried to ease the sting. “You kissed me back.”

  “And that makes it okay, how?”

  She fled the living room before he could respond, her bedroom door slamming behind her.

  Okay, so he might have deserved the slap for kissing her, knowing she probably wouldn’t appreciate it, but she had been daring him. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have stepped into him like that, teasing him with that soft voice and those lips he couldn’t stop thinking about.

  Man, did she have a hard hand. Walking over to the mirror on the dining room wall, Gabe studied the bright-red imprint of her hand and rubbed at it. Most women didn’t knock a guy’s jaw off for stealing a kiss, especially when they had seemed into it.

  This was fucking nuts. He’d lived with this woman less than a week, and all they did was fight. Granted, he’d wanted to keep her at bay, but he never wanted to make her feel threatened.

  You were the one who told her you were a bad guy. How can she trust you if you’re telling her one thing and doing another?

  The fact was, if they were going to survive their temporary situation, Gabe owed Caroline more than one apology. Whatever her issues, he had made the wrong move, and he needed to make it right.

  The story of his life.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “The only stalking that should be done in Idaho is during hunting season.”

  —Miss Know It All

  CAROLINE STIRRED HER Jack and Coke and tried to shake off her shitty day. At least one good thing had come from it; she had made a friend.

  Callie sat quietly next to her, smiling and nodding at whatever Mike Stevens was saying. Callie and she had talked for hours earlier, and when she’d asked Caroline to come out with them, Caroline had been hesitant. But after Gabe had kissed her, she’d been emotional and crazed and needed to get the hell out of there. When Callie had texted her, saying they were going to dinner too, she had said yes. She’d been worried about sneaking out without bumping into Gabe, but thankfully, he was gone when she’d come out of her room.

  She wanted to put Gabe and his unwelcome kiss from her mind.

  Which was hard to do when his stupid face kept popping into her head, bringing a tingling sensation to her lips, which reminded her of how he had crossed a line and how, for a split second, she’d wanted to let him. To let him take control and make her feel something, anything besides anger, pain, and being generally unwanted.

  But then she remembered they could barely stand each other and that she was no longer sixteen, trying to fill a void inside her. She’d had every intention of picking and choosing her partners carefully, weighing the benefits, taking in the risks . . .

  And Gabe was just too big a gamble.

  Forget the fact that she knew very little about him, except that he was a wash of contradictions. Their first meeting, he’d been arrogant and a major dick, but when he’d offered to share the apartment, he’d been almost charming. He hated accepting praise when he was kind and lashed out at her when she started to see the good in him. She just couldn’t get a handle on who he was, and it scared her.

  But when he’d kissed her, it had felt like she was floating for half a second and then, boom, her skin was burning like molten lava, hot and fast. Every stroke of his tongue had left her weak, tingly, and craving more of him. She had been ready to surrender completely until the voice in her head had started ranting.

  You aren’t in control. He is.

  The slap had been a reaction after the fact, but Gabe hadn’t been wrong. She had kissed him back, had moaned and enjoyed him. She’d given him every indication that she liked what he was doing.

  What was wrong with her? She might be attracted to Gabe, but he wasn’t the guy. He wasn’t what she needed. He was like every other loser she had hooked up with over the years: selfish, only in it for a good time. That was her past. She was almost thirty-one years old, and she needed to break the cycle. No more Mr. Right Now. She needed a mature, stable guy. Someone who would show the town of Rock Canyon that she had finally grown up.

  “So, Caroline, Callie said you flip bars for a living?”

  The question came from Travis Bowers, Gemma’s country rock-star husband, who was sitting across from her at the round table, nursing a beer. Travis was definitely the type of man her mother would have called a “tall glass of water,” with his curly brown hair and five o’clock shadow making him look like a rugged roughneck, looking for trouble.

  “I did, but I’ve switched my focus to consulting. I want to set down roots somewhere instead of picking up and moving every couple of months to a new town, new city.”

  “I understand completely,” Travis said, picking
up Gemma’s hand and bringing it to his lips for a kiss.

  Caroline almost rolled her eyes but caught herself. It wasn’t their fault that she wasn’t the type of woman to attract the hand-holding, eyes-for-her-only type of man. She never had been.

  She attracted weaklings who liked a woman to tell them what to do and usually had no imagination in the bedroom; the charmers who wanted to see if they could land her and then tell all their buddies about their exploits; and the assholes who liked strong women only as long as they could break them.

  Every one of them was definitely on her new DO NOT DO list.

  “I heard Eric and Hank are fighting over your services,” Mike said, reaching over to steal some of Gracie’s nachos while she was onstage singing the Judds’ “Mama He’s Crazy.”

  It was karaoke night at Hank’s, and Caroline had wanted to stake out the little bar in action. She could see why this night was taking away business from Buck’s. The karaoke alone was a great draw, but Hank’s had a “1-2-3” promotion, too: one-dollar longnecks, two-dollar nachos, and three-dollar margaritas.

  “I said I’d give them an assessment and upon retainer, I’d draw up a recommended business plan. First come, first served,” Caroline said, sitting back in her chair. “I’ve got to say, though, Hank’s doesn’t seem to be hurting on karaoke night.”

  “The only problem Hank’s has is when Hank starts drinking,” Gemma said, making a face.

  Caroline sat forward. “He drinks in his own bar?”

  “More like gets shit-faced in it,” Mike said. “I feel bad for the guy because he’s on his own, but he can get downright unpleasant.”

  “Then he’s a waste of my time,” Caroline said with a sigh.

  “How do you mean?” Travis asked.

  “Well, for starters, if he gets drunk in his own bar, he runs the risk of his employees and customers not only taking advantage of him but getting out of control. This drink,” Caroline said, holding up her Jack and Coke, “is too strong, which tells me the bartender’s not measuring shots correctly—wasting alcohol and eating into profits.”