Page 133 of Crash Course
Spinning around, she marched to the fridge, grabbed a bottle of wine—uh-oh— from the fridge and held it up.
"Want a glass?"
"No. Thanks. I’m good."
As dedicated as he’d been, after this shitshow, if she’d offered him a shot of whiskey, he’d have gone all in. What that said about him wasn’t anything good.
He shook it off, gave himself at least some credit for not drinking in almost two weeks.
She smacked open a cabinet, sending the door slamming into the side of the fridge.
Yikes. "Stop." He strode around the island, gently shoved her aside and took the glass and bottle. "Keep it up and you’ll wreck your house. It’s not worth it.He’snot worth it."
Cruz yanked the cork free, poured, and recorked the bottle.
She eyed the half-filled glass. "After what I just went through? Half a glass?"
He lifted one shoulder. "Drink that and see where you are. Trust me, satisfaction isn't found inside this bottle."
She took the glass, downed a healthy gulp, swallowed and peeled her lips back. "Ugh, I just remembered why I’ve had that in there so long. The stuff is terrible."
For some reason, Cruz laughed. Maybe it was relief. He didn’t know. All he knew was he didn’t want her drowning her senses in alcohol.
Uncorking the bottle again, he dumped it in the sink, rinsed the bottle, and set it beside the sink before facing her again.
"It’s been a rough day," he said. "Why don’t we order some food up, watch a movie, and chill."
She glanced at her tote sitting on the stool. "I brought work home."
"Can it wait?"
"That’s the problem, Cruz, it’sbeenwaiting. It’s a murder case. My investigator sent me his notes and I need to go through them."
"All right. Let’s have dinner, I’ll kill time while you catch up on work and then we’ll watch a movie. How’s that?"
"You’re not mad?"
He blew raspberries. "Why would I be mad?"
"I've had relationships stall because of my job."
"Then those guys were idiots. I’ve told you, Cilla, there will be nights when I’m gone. Nights when one of my brothers will call me at two a.m. and I get up and leave. No question. It’s what we do. I have a responsibility to my family. What kind of asshole would I be if I got pissed at you for meetingyourresponsibilities?"
She lifted her hands, covering her face. "I can’t believe this," she said, her voice muffled.
Not knowing what the hell he was supposed to do and too terrified he’d say something stupid, Cruz stood there, waiting for her to finish rolling through whatever mind melt she currently had going.
When she dropped her hands, she let out a snort. "I can’t believe I have met a man ornery enough to deal with the insanity known as my father."
"That’s where you’re wrong. I’mnotdealing with your father. You are. Unless he comes at you the way he did tonight, I’m a bystander. Personally, I know he’s your dad, but you don’t need him. You can take care of yourself. Why do you need someone who makes you feel shitty?"
"In my mother’s absence, he was all I had." She dipped her head. "He’s my family."
He stepped closer, tucked his index finger under her chin and gently tilted her head up. "If I have my way, maybe my family can be that for you. One thing I can promise, no one will call you a spoiled bitch. We don’t play that way."
Those amazing green eyes pooled with tears. Wow. His hard-nosed defense attorney who’d seen probably all sorts of atrocities, got sappy over the idea of having a family who’d be nice to her.
"That," she croaked, "would be great."
