Still the One Read online

  “Because I hold the Gummy Bears. Which means I’ve got you right where I want you.”

  She studied him for a long beat. Then sent him a smile that made him nervous as hell before leaving the truck. Her limp was definitely pronounced but not nearly as bad as it had been earlier.

  Her phone sat in the cup holder, buzzing with incoming texts like it was having a seizure. He picked the thing up to set one of his Gatorades in there and, shit. Yeah. He glanced at the screen.

  Xander.

  She was sexting with Xander.

  The passenger door opened and Darcy went brows up at the sight of him holding her phone. “Learn anything?” she asked, struggling to get up into the cab of the truck.

  AJ had his hand on the door handle to get out and go around to help her when she bared her teeth at him.

  “Don’t you dare,” she said. A painfully long minute later, she finally relaxed into the seat, damp with perspiration and breathing heavily. “Not one word from the peanut gallery,” she panted.

  He just handed her the Gummy Bears.

  “Didn’t eat any, did you?” she asked.

  “Never fear, your bag of citric acid, dyes, and sugars is intact.”

  “Okay then.” Surprising him, she turned the radio back to hip-hop.

  He didn’t question the good fortune. He just hoped it lasted.

  It did, but only because she fell asleep. It had taken her a while to get comfortable though. She’d tossed and turned and tossed some more. Eventually she laid her head on the console between the two front seats and shifted around miserably.

  Reaching behind them, he pulled out a pillow he’d packed for her. “Lift up,” he said.

  She settled onto the pillow with a sigh and was gone in what appeared to be three seconds. Like completely out cold, limp, unmoving, breathing heavily and deeply.

  Knowing how rare it was for her to get into a good sleep, he sighed a breath of relief for her. And because the sun had come out and was in her face, he lowered her visor.

  Her face was relaxed and she looked … Damn. With her smart-ass mouth closed, she actually had a sort of girl-next-door innocence thing going, looking younger. And sweet.

  Pain free.

  Her arm slipped off the console. AJ carefully replaced it, and though she twitched, she didn’t awaken.

  With her arms bared by her tank top, he could see a few of the scars on her exposed right shoulder and biceps where she’d been cut by the windshield on the night of the accident. They were fading and he was grateful for that. Not because they took away in the slightest from her natural beauty, but because he knew exactly what scars could do to a person, how the daily sight of them could make getting over what had happened to her even more difficult.

  She shifted in her sleep, stretching one of her legs up on the dash. She’d long ago kicked off her boots and socks. Her toenails were painted sky blue alternating with bright pink. Her right foot was still badly scarred. It had a plate in it and had required a skin graft over the top.

  She was lucky she hadn’t lost it.

  In her sleep, she sighed. A sweet, endearing sound that softened him when he didn’t want to be softened. Didn’t want to think of her as anything other than the woman who drove him nuts. Didn’t want to entertain that they could have something more.

  There were a lot of reasons for that, the biggest one being that he’d already been in love with a woman who’d been through a terrible tragedy, and she’d dumped him because she couldn’t believe herself lovable after.

  He knew reckless Darcy wasn’t too far off the same mark as Kayla, and he didn’t plan to go there with another woman ever again.

  “You’re thinking too loud,” Darcy murmured sleepily. She sat up and blinked at him, her eyes heavy-lidded. “You’re regretting bringing me.” She rubbed her eyes. “Buyer’s remorse, right? Don’t worry, it happens all the time.”

  His gut took a hit, as did his heart. If he could, he’d have cheerily strangled her parents for putting her default setting at defensive and always braced for rejection.

  How hard could it have possibly been to give her even a little bit of genuine love and attention, much less affection? Instead they’d treated her as an afterthought, proving to her time and time again that she was worth zip to them.

  “I don’t do regrets,” he said.

  She thought about that for a minute. “You’re not even a little bit worried about tonight?” she asked. “Or don’t you do worry either?”

  “Oh, I worry,” he said.

  “About?”

  You, he nearly said. Your pain, your recovery, your happiness, and why you still feel the need to carry around pain meds like a security blanket. “Plenty.”

  “Such as … me behaving tonight?”

  He didn’t answer on grounds that it might incriminate him.

  She shook her head. “You really think I’d screw you over tonight. Good to know where you’re at, AJ. Thanks for the trust.”

  “Darcy—”

  “Oh no,” she said, her face to the window on her side, watching Idaho go by. “Don’t try to be nice now, you’ll ruin my mood. Just tell me flat-out what you need from me, okay? Tell me right now and then do me a favor and don’t talk to me again until we get there.”

  “I need you to be available, receptive to questions, and …”

  She turned her head and eyed him. “And?”

  “Charming wouldn’t hurt.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “You don’t think I can do charming?”

  Honestly? He had his doubts.

  She blew out a breath. “Whatever. So is that it, then? Be available, receptive to questions, and charming?”

  “Yes.”

  “Fine.” She turned forward, expression resolute. “I’ll keep my part of the bargain. You just make sure you keep yours.”

  “Darcy—”

  She pointed at him. “No talking.”

  Nine

  When they finally arrived at the hotel that afternoon, Darcy slid out of the truck before AJ even shut off the engine.

  “Wait,” he called out to her. “It’s raining again—”

  Darcy couldn’t wait. Nope, she needed to escape the tight confines of the truck where she’d been hyperalert to his every movement for the past six hours. Actually, seven, because they’d been blocked by a five-car pileup and had sat on the highway for an hour.

  A very long, silent hour.

  She’d spent the time soaking up the way AJ’s hands took the wheel, how his broad shoulders remained relaxed under any circumstances, even when he’d been cut off by some lady who was older than dirt. Twice.

  And then there was his scent. Logically she knew it was his soap or deodorant or whatever and not really his skin, but damn.

  It should be effing illegal for a guy to smell that delicious. It was distracting, for one thing. And for another, it just wasn’t fair. A woman was programmed to go all soft and melty when a guy smelled that good. And this was the last guy on the planet that she’d ever want to be soft and melty for.

  He thought she was a pain in his ass. And a possible druggie. Both were insulting, but only one actually hurt. She’d worked so hard, done everything he’d asked of her, followed his exercise regime, his eating plan, everything. Okay, maybe not the eating plan, not entirely. But he’d been a big part of helping her wean herself off the pain meds in the first place. In fact, he hadn’t wanted her to do it as soon as she had.

  His way had been smarter, of course, and more logical. But she’d needed a clear head. And that he could actually think she’d gotten hooked and was hiding it …

  Yeah, he’d opened a big can of ’tude with that one. Mostly because she was still in pain and not sleeping at all, and she’d give her good leg to take some Oxycontin,.

  So yeah. Her feelings were completely hurt, which surprised the hell out of her since she’d long ago realized she felt things at a different level than other people.

  Which was to say less. She felt
less than most.

  She didn’t know why or how, it just was.

  So the fact that he’d managed to get in past her walls and cause pain? That sucked.

  She was thinking all this and not paying a whole lot of attention to her body. All she wanted was to get away from AJ, who clearly wasn’t feeling any of the things she was feeling.

  And didn’t she hate that, too.

  But unfortunately, her right leg had other ideas.

  From the long hours in the truck it had tightened up, and as she put her weight on it a sharp, air-stealing, vicious cramp gripped her and her knees gave way.

  And she hit the wet pavement hard.

  She heard AJ swear. Then his truck door slammed and he was there in the pouring rain, his hands on her, holding her still.

  “I’m fine— Ah, shit.” She gasped at the fire racing up and down her leg while his fingers dug into the twitching, cramping muscles.

  Crouched at her side on the balls of his feet, in an easy grace that she couldn’t have managed on her best day, AJ’s skilled hands worked their magic as the agony washed through her.

  “Breathe, Darcy,” he instructed, his voice a quiet command that she automatically obeyed. “Deeper.”

  She’d long ago learned to ride the wave and let it take her, but it was still a very long two minutes before she could relax even marginally and nod her head. “I’m okay. I can get up.”

  Ignoring the rain, their wet clothing, and the valet guy hovering and shifting uncomfortably on his feet because he probably hadn’t been trained on what to do about a woman lying on the concrete, writhing in agony from cramps, AJ kept his hands on Darcy. As he rose to his feet, he pulled her up with him, holding her still a moment, his gaze locked on hers. Probably taking her temperature and pulse by osmosis.

  She looked down at herself. Since she hadn’t put her sweater back on, her tank was wet, drenched through, giving everyone a show.

  AJ’s gaze dropped, took that in for himself before he shrugged out of his lightweight jacket and wrapped it around her.

  “Thanks.”

  “Yeah.” He cleared his throat and paused, like he’d lost his thoughts. “No problem.”

  Yeah, definitely. Mr. Calm, Stoic, Always in Charge’s cool façade had definitely just slipped a little. This fascinated her and gave her more than a little grim satisfaction.

  Maybe she wasn’t in this crazy state of stupid lust by herself.

  “You okay now?” he asked.

  “Yes.” Because between discombobulating him and being cocooned in his deliciously warm jacket, it was practically Christmas morning for her.

  To his credit, AJ recovered quickly, and with a gentle squeeze of his hands, stepped free of her.

  Back to normal. She bit down on the disappointment and had started to walk by him when he spoke.

  “Proud of you,” he said.

  Her feet faltered, and this time it had nothing at all to do with her faulty legs.

  Darcy took in the sight of the hotel in front of them. It was a huge, overstated affair with a big circular drive that was meant to simulate entering the wilds of the Bitterroot Mountains. There were hundred-gallon planters with trees lining the entrance and huge pens exhibiting disturbingly lifelike wildlife in their habitats.

  “Jesus,” AJ muttered as they passed a mountain lion frozen in the act of taking down Bambi, huge teeth and all.

  “Welcome to Idaho,” Darcy muttered back and made him laugh. She stared at him, realizing that he didn’t do that nearly enough. Don’t get sucked in, she reminded herself. You’re mad at him. Stick with that.

  “Wait here,” he commanded, giving her another reason to be mad at him—he was bossy as hell.

  He led her to a seating area in the lobby. He dropped their two bags at her feet, and strode off to the check-in desk.

  In charge of his orbit, and hers.

  You’re just here because you know you owe the man this much at least, for all he’s done for you. All she had to do was survive a few hours more and then hopefully she’d be in her own hotel room watching some good TV for the night, and then in the morning it would be back to The Real World, Sunshine Edition.

  Two long, denim-clad legs appeared in her field of vision and she looked up … and up, because damn, AJ had a long, built body.

  He held out a room card.

  She narrowed her eyes. “We’re not sharing a room.”

  “Oh hell no,” he said. “I want to be able to sleep with both eyes closed.”

  She snorted and pushed to her feet, gritting her teeth at the usual burn of pain slicing down her body.

  AJ didn’t rush her, just gave her the moment she needed. He did however take her bag, shouldering it along with his, gesturing with his chin to the bank of elevators.

  At her floor he stepped off along with her and she found herself holding her breath as he walked her to her room. In front of her door he waited while she used her room card. He dropped her duffel bag just inside for her without stepping a foot into the room. She felt a ping of … something. Maybe irritation that it was so easy for him to walk away from her. In any case, her inner bitch took over and she slipped out of his jacket—slowly—and handed it back to him.

  For the briefest of beats his gaze skimmed over her body and a muscle in his jaw bunched.

  Good enough. Feeling better now, she smiled.

  “Lobby in a half hour,” he said. “Rest for a bit, whatever you need to do.”

  She saluted him, and he shook his head and strode off.

  Blowing out a breath, she watched him go.

  “Staring at my ass isn’t resting,” he said without looking back.

  Dammit. She slammed her door, pretty sure she could still hear him chuckling. She hated when he got the last word.

  A half hour later she’d showered, had contorted into a pretzel to treat her new tat with the required ointment, and dressed in a killer black dress she’d commandeered from Zoe’s closet. The FMPs were her own, though she hadn’t worn them in eleven months, hadn’t worn any heels at all. She pulled them from her bag and hugged them close. “Missed you, my precious.”

  But her feet were sending serious doubt vibes.

  “Look,” she told them. “I need them tonight, okay?”

  Her feet had no response.

  Whatever. Surely she could manage for a half hour without wanting to go crying to her mama. She needed the extra height advantage. At five foot seven, the four-inch heels would put her on much more even ground with AJ and provide some desperately needed feminine power and sass.

  She really needed sass. Especially since she was up against one undisputed truth—she couldn’t change someone’s mind about her.

  She’d learned that early, along with the fact that she couldn’t make someone love her, so hell if she’d try. It had never worked growing up, and she’d learned it didn’t matter anyway. There’d been a one-strike rule at their house. If you screwed something up, you were done.

  Granted, they’d lived in some seriously badass places. Liberia, Bolivia, Jordan, Hungary, Indonesia. The rule had been simple—fit in and blend. Or get in trouble and get sent to a boarding school in Switzerland until the next transfer.

  Her siblings had gotten the hang of fitting in; they’d been naturals. And as a reward, both Zoe and Wyatt had gotten to go visit their grandparents in Sunshine much more often than Darcy.

  But whatever. It was long ago over and done, and she was who she was: a little cynical, a little snarky, and a whole lot hard to love.

  She got that about herself, she really did. She just didn’t