Her Forbidden Hero (9 page)

Anger took root in his chest again. “You put yourself in danger over money? Why didn’t you just ask me for help?”

“Because I wanted to do this on my own. I
can
do this on my own.”

He made a big show of looking around, knowing he was being an asshole, but her naïveté was setting off every protective urge he possessed. “Oh, really? Well, if this is you doing it on your own, you’re doing a bang-up job.”

Alyssa tugged out of his hands, her face bright red. “Go to hell, Marco. I already admitted I screwed up, so what else do you want from me? And,” she said, storming down the hall, “if this was the kind of help you had in mind, you can keep it. If I wanted to be yelled at and taunted, I’d have gone to my father’s.”

She might as well have slapped him. “Alyssa!”

Hesitating in the bathroom doorway, she said, “Can you just stand watch for a minute? I know I probably shouldn’t, but I need a shower. I’ll be fast.” The door
click
ed shut behind her.

That she was getting naked on the other side of that door shouldn’t have turned him on, but his anger instantly morphed into red-hot desire that had his body wanting to prove she was here and okay by burying himself deep inside her.

Jesus. What was wrong with him? He dropped onto the couch, still warm where he’d found her curled into a ball. He needed to calm himself down—his temper
and
his damn hard-on. He could kick himself for coming at her with both barrels blazing, but the idea that something might’ve happened to her tripped the irrational anger triggers in his brain.

It wasn’t irrational. He thought he was wrecked now? Anything ever happened to that woman and it would destroy him.

Woman
.

When had he started thinking of her on those terms? It was true, wasn’t it? Alyssa Scott was all grown up.

An idea came to mind, and he knew what he had to do. But would she agree? And could he handle it?

When the bathroom door opened, Marco flew to his feet. Though she looked fresh-faced and smelled like heaven, her normally sparkling eyes were dull.

“Alyssa, I’m sorry.”

She hiked her bag onto her shoulder. “Can you…would you please not say anything to Pete? It won’t happen again.”

She thought he was going to rat her out? Clearly he was the one doing a bang-up job here. “Of course I won’t say anything, but—”

She rested her hand on his bicep, her palm covering the edge of his scars. That one touch had his body roaring back to life. “I don’t want to fight with you, okay? Let’s just”—she sighed—“let’s just drop it.” She stepped around him and reached for the door.

“Aly, wait.”

She paused but didn’t face him. “I need some air.” Then she slipped through the door.

Tense negotiations in foreign languages with warlords who would shoot you as soon as look at you, he could handle. A simple conversation with a twenty-two-year-old American woman? Apparently not. Goddammit.

By the time Marco screwed his head on straight, Alyssa’s car was gone from the lot. He dialed her cell number, but she didn’t answer. Guess he had that coming after he’d sent her calls to voice mail yesterday. But it was only because his arm had hurt like a mother—Max’s prediction had been dead-on—and he hadn’t wanted her to hear it in his voice.

Shit if the whole fiasco this morning didn’t prove he had no business wanting into her life. Or her bed.

Or her heart
, a traitorous part of his mind whispered.

Fucking hell. Not a chance.

Hoping work would distract him from his most recent cluster, Marco returned to the bar and got everything restocked and ready for the double service Sundays entailed. He was working lunch and his part-time counterpart, Jameson, was working the dinner shift. Alyssa was on with him for lunch, which Marco hoped would work in his favor.

With the doors ready to open in fifteen minutes, Marco headed to the break room for a bite to eat. Before he got there, a raucous conversation made its way down the hall to him.

“…and she turned him down,” someone said, dissolving into laughter.

“Shut up, asshole. Why do I tell you anything?” Eric grumbled.

“Just as well. She’s too good for you anyway,” Van said. “Speaking of…where is she? Isn’t she on for lunch?”

Tell me I didn’t just hear what I think I heard.
Marco rounded into the room and the conversation died an unnatural death. “Hey,” he said, attempting to act like he hadn’t been eavesdropping.

Van crossed his arms and eyed him curiously. “You feeling better?”

“Yeah. Thanks for asking.” He grabbed a plate and filled half of it, then took a seat.

“So, Tommy, you gonna play at open mic night this week?” Eric asked.

Tommy was their sound technician and looked the part, complete with grunge clothing, long hair, and two fully tattooed sleeves. His ink was sweet, though. Marco had never gotten any tatts because they too easily identified you in the field, but that wasn’t standing in his way anymore, was it?

Tommy shrugged. “If the spirit moves me. We’ll see.”

Marco looked up from his plate. “I vote for playing. Your music is brilliant. That shit needs to be shared.”

Tommy’s mouth dropped open as if Marco had sprouted three heads. Was it so fucking unusual for him to participate in casual conversation? From the way they were all gawking at him, apparently so. After a long moment, Tommy recovered. “You play anything?”

“I was good at guitar and passable on the piano. But I haven’t played much in a few years and my left hand is not what it used to be. Not sure if I could even manage a bar chord, as weak as it is right now.” He swallowed another bite, feeling everyone’s gazes on him. He looked around. “So, who asked Alyssa out?” he asked, working hard at nonchalance but probably failing, judging by the way his gut clenched.

Tommy and Van developed a bad case of shifty eyes and Eric became fascinated by the food on his plate, identifying him as the culprit.

“Hey, Alyssa?” Van called.

Marco cut his glare away from Eric and looked over his shoulder.

She leaned around the doorjamb but didn’t meet his gaze. “Hey, guys,” she said softly, her witty, outgoing demeanor nowhere to be seen. Marco willed her to look at him.

“Join us,” Van said.

“No, that’s all right. I already ate. Thanks, though,” she said quietly. With a quick wave, she disappeared into the hall.

…

Was this shift ever going to end? Pete had only given her three tables for her first time going solo, and that wasn’t nearly enough to keep her mind off of the abject humiliation that still burned through her over the scene in the green room that morning.

It didn’t help that Marco kept trying to engage her in conversation every time she placed a drink order. But talking was the last thing she wanted to do. She needed another lecture like she needed a hole in her head and, if she were being honest, she felt horrible about comparing him to her dad. Had she ever said anything less true or more unfair? She’d just been so mad at herself for doing something she knew she shouldn’t have done and embarrassed that, of all people, Marco had been the one to find her. In one fell swoop, she’d undone her efforts to prove to him she was a woman who could take care of herself, not a child who still needed his help.

And that made her heart hurt because the more time she spent in Marco’s presence, the more she suspected what she felt for him extended well beyond a crush or the love she’d expected. True, he wasn’t the same easygoing boy she’d known. He’d grown into a complicated man who radiated a quiet, hurting intensity she found utterly attracting. The haunting echoes of the horrors he’d survived cast shadows in his eyes and over his very body, and in that darkness she saw the hurts she bore from her own childhood. That they now shared a soul-deep pain called to her, made her want—no,
need
—to ease his burden. After all, how many times had he been there for her? Just once, she wanted to be that person for him.

He wasn’t the only one who had changed. She used to be so shy it was painful, but therapy, self-defense classes, and a freshman roommate who had been the biggest extrovert on the planet combined to make her stronger, more independent, and more outgoing. After so many years of letting others take care of her, not wanting to ask for help was now her biggest weakness. She knew herself well enough to recognize that. Put plainly, she’d become stubborn and downright determined to prove she didn’t need anyone’s help. Not anymore.

Finally, the early show ended and the last customer filed out. Alyssa had been so stuck in her head all afternoon, she couldn’t have described the band or its music if her life depended on it. To prepare for the evening show, the waitstaff collected all the condiment bottles, and she and Kim stood at a counter in the kitchen topping them off.

“How’d your first service go?” Kim asked.

Alyssa worked at a smile. “It was fine.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah. Sorry. I’m just not quite myself today.”

“Why don’t you go out and enjoy this beautiful day. Maybe that’ll help.” Kim bumped her shoulder.

“I will.”

Kim set down a bottle of ketchup. “So what are you waiting for?” Alyssa frowned. “Go now, girl.”

“B-but,” she sputtered. “We’re not done yet.”

“Correction:
I’m
not done yet. You go. I’ll finish here. Really. This job’s a marathon, not a sprint, and you’ve been working extra hours every day since you started. Go on now.”

Alyssa hesitated for a moment before the need to escape this day became too strong to resist. “You are my new favorite person, Kim. Thank you.”

In the lounge, Alyssa clocked out, grabbed her purse, then made a straight shot for her car. She had a date with a hotel receptionist, iTunes, and a poolside deck chair at her little hotel.

Her car was broiling, so she rolled the windows all the way down. First an apartment, then maybe a new used car with air-conditioning that actually worked? She could dream.

She drove across the rear lot to the side exit. From the corner of her eye, she caught someone barreling out the back door. Had someone called her name? If so, whatever it was could wait until tomorrow.

Thankfully, it was a short drive to the hotel. The light turned green at the intersection in front of her destination, and a flash of movement in her rearview mirror captured her notice. Was that…no! She eased the Corolla into a parking space near the front lobby, anger and exasperation filling her chest in equal measure.

Betty rocketed into the space beside her.

Marco jumped out of the Mustang and rounded the back of his car to her driver’s side. She opened her door and got out, closing it harder than she meant to. “What are you—”

“Just listen for a minute, okay?” He braced his hands on either side of the car’s roof, boxing her in.

All the fight drained out of her, and she sagged back against her door. His expression was tense and uncertain. And, oh, that face—if men could be beautiful, then he truly was. “Okay.”

“You’re not staying here. Not anymore.”

Her exasperation returned. “Uh, yeah. I am. I looked all over my first night in town. This place has the cheapest rates.”

Marco closed his eyes and shook his head. “No. Damn.” He released a long breath. “I suck at talking to you, don’t I?”

“Yeah. Kinda.”

He looked at her for a long moment until finally one side of his lips curved into a crooked grin. Her heart tripped over itself at its appearance. If she’d thought him beautiful before…

He reached up, slowly, and curled a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

His fingers caressed her skin in a slow slide she felt everywhere. Man, she’d always crushed on Marco, but she didn’t remember her body
ever
aching for his touch the way it did now, but then she remembered what they were talking about—him helping her.

He brushed his knuckles over her cheek. “I was going to talk to you after work, but you left before I found you. What I meant to say is, I want you to come stay with me.”

Warring responses waged within her. The thought of sharing a house with him again was the stuff of late-night hopes and fantasies, but she knew he was only doing this out of a sense of duty and obligation. He’d found her sleeping at Whiskey’s this morning, and now he felt the need to help her. Just like old times.

Her insides deflated at the thought.

“I’m fine. I have enough money now. I can make it until payday.”

He stepped in closer and cupped her cheek in his big hand. “Great. I’m glad to hear that. But if you stay at my place, you can save that money and use it to…I don’t know. Furnish an apartment or whatever.”

It took everything she had not to lean into his hand, not to turn her face and press a kiss against his palm. It made the desire to fall into him so damn strong. Instead, she shrugged. “I wouldn’t want to intrude or, uh, be in the way when you have…guests over.” The thought of who those guests might be made her stomach hurt.

His hand dropped to her shoulder and squeezed, a sad smile playing at his lips. “What guests? I’ve been a total recluse since I got home. My parents haven’t even been over since the day they helped me move in. So it would be just you and me. And since I’m inviting you, you wouldn’t be intruding.”

The way he’d said
you and me
echoed in Alyssa’s mind and tugged at her deepest desires. “I don’t know,” she whispered.

He leaned in. “I want you…or, um, I wouldn’t have asked.” With a strange expression on his face, he backed away and scrubbed his hands through his hair.

Did he just say he wants me?
Alyssa felt the heat of a blush creep up her cheeks and hoped he might believe the heat of the sun was the cause. “Okay.”

His eyes were wary but his expression relaxed. “Okay?”