Page 40 of Roughing
“You can’t be someone you’re not.”
“Maybe I can be the someone I once was.”
“Briggs.” I couldn’t keep the pity out of my tone. Right now, I did feel sorry for this lonely man with a chip on his shoulder and an overprotective streak wider than the Columbia River. He was a work in progress, but weren’t we all?
“I can try.”
I blew out an exasperated breath. “This is a mistake. I shouldn’t have come here with you. We should avoid each other because right now, I’m doing everything I can to stop myself from straddling you and taking everything you have to give.”
He smirked as my words conjured up a tempting mental image. “Why are we doing this to each other?”
“Why are you here with me tonight? What did you hope to gain from hanging out like this?”
“I wanted to keep you safe. I promise I didn’t have an ulterior motive.”
“I don’t need a protector. I’ve told you that a hundred times.”
“You needed me the other night when someone was prowling around your office.”
I didn’t have an answer because he was right.
“I’d never forgive myself if something happened to you.”
“You’re not responsible for me and my well-being.”
“I feel like I am.”
“Briggs, I won’t be a surrogate for someone you did wrong. You’re using me to make up for your mistakes. I have no connection to whoever hurt you, and you can’t fix whatever was broken between you and someone else.”
His dark eyes regarded me with unreadable intensity before he looked away. A long, uncomfortable silence followed. Needing something to do with my hands other than stripping Briggs, I dug in my purse and pulled out a tube of lipstick. Pulling down the mirror, I reapplied the cherry red.
“My sister.” He spoke quietly.
“What?” I dropped my lipstick to the floor and riveted my gaze on him. I didn’t think I heard him right. He rubbed the back of his neck and wouldn’t look me in the eye. I waited, but no further words came from his mouth. He’d revealed a crucial piece of why he was who he was, then he shut down as if regretting his admission. I debated letting the remark go or forcing him out of his comfort zone.
“Briggs, you can’t make a remark like that and then drop it like you never said it.” I touched his arm, and he flinched away from me. I stroked the hard muscles of his biceps. “You can tell me.”
I leaned into him and squeezed his arm. I waited. Deafening silence stretched between us. His body stiffened, tensing to the point where he felt like stone underneath my fingers. Finally, he hissed a harsh sigh and slumped in his seat.
“It’s my sister. She died, and I’m responsible. I could’ve prevented it.” He kept his gaze averted as if afraid of the censure he might see in my eyes.
“I don’t understand. What happened?”
He shook his head. He’d said all he was going to say, but I wasn’t letting him off easily this time. Determination to get beyond his defenses emboldened me.
“You say you want another chance. You claim you’re going to change. Yet you won’t talk to me about what happened and why you feel responsible. If you want more out of this relationship, you have to give more, and I’m not talking physically.”
Briggs ground his teeth, resistance echoing in every hard line of his face.
“Well?” I prodded. “Now’s your chance. You want me; you’re going to have to work for it.”
“You drive a hard bargain.”
“I know. And you’re a stubborn, pigheaded bastard.”
“Don’t you think stubborn and pigheaded are redundant?”
“Just driving home my point, and we—” Gordon’s front door opened, and I forgot all about what I was going to say. Briggs saw it too. We held our breath, and I gripped his arm.
