Page 34 of Work It Out
He placed both hands on her hips to keep her still. “What happened tonight?”
She squirmed, and he tightened his grasp. Her breaths came faster, harsher. “Nothing. Just a bad day.”
“No offense, but no one cries like that because they had a bad day. If you don’t want to tell me, that’s your right. Don’t feel like you have to lie to me.” He removed his hands from her hips, ready to help her off his lap.
“You’re right. It was worse.” She laughed, the sound more curse than humor. “You were right about a lot of things today.”
He smoothed a hand over the satiny skin of her shoulder. “Ah, so the big guy finally made his move.” He’d seen it in Blaine’s eyes that afternoon. Funny what having their territory threatened does to some guys.
“You could say that.”
“You’re okay, right? Southern Comfort didn’t forget his manners and hurt a lady?”
“He’d never do that.” Tears sparkled in her eyes again, and she impatiently swiped at her cheek. “Blaine’s my best friend. I don’t want to lose him.”
“Cripes. And then, like an asshat, your new roomie makes a wisecrack about you looking like you lost your best friend.” He tangled his fingers with hers and squeezed. “I’m so sorry, Rayah. I didn’t mean to make it worse.”
She squeezed him back. “I know. It’s just… Sometimes I think I must be broken.” Her messy bun bobbed with her shrug.
“Aren’t we all a little broken?” The answer to that had to be yes, or he might have to throw in the towel.
“That’s the thing,” she said. “I thought I was only a little broken. But after tonight, I think I must be a lot broken, like toss-me-in-the-garbage-’cause-there’s-no-fixing-me broken.”
“Nah.”
“‘Nah?’” she mimicked. “I tell you my deepest fear, and all you’ve got is ‘nah’?”
“Rayah, you’ve built an amazing business, one that’s destined to be successful, because you won’t have it any other way. Your staff love you.”
“They do. They love me like you love a favorite teddy bear or valuable art. People either try to cuddle me or handle me like I’m made of glass, and I’m so sick of it.” She growled. “I sound like such a bitch. I know I do. But I don’t think anyone really sees me anymore. I’m not sure they ever did. My mom wanted a ray of summer sunshine, Dad wanted an ATM, my coaches wanted me to be invincible, and the world wanted…” She picked at the fabric of her towel. “They never could make up their minds what they wanted. I was supposed to be strong but dainty, sweet but fierce. My boobs were too big, my thighs were too thick, my head was a weird shape. Somehow, I was all the things they wanted and all the things they hated without ever being enough of anything.”
This was why she’d understood how deep Yvonne had cut him. His heart ached for her. Being in the public eye was rough on everyone, but the media took particular delight in ruthlessly tearing apart young girls. He’d seen what they’d done to Vicky. But Rayah wasn’t giving her staff enough credit. Yeah, they might treat her with kid gloves sometimes, but they adored her and her fierceness more than she realized.
Also, she had amazing boobs. Too-big breasts? Wasn’t that the definition of an oxymoron?
“And, damn it.” She broke through his thoughts in a burst of fury. “I may be small and damaged, but that doesn’t mean I’m fragile.”
Jake snorted. “Seriously, cupcake? Who in their right mind could spend five minutes with you and still think you’re fragile? Look at you.” He gripped her hips again, because he couldn’t give her much, but he could give her this. “I wouldn’t bet against you in any fight. You may have a tender heart, but that doesn’t mean you’re not a warrior, Rayah.” He grinned. “A tiny, sexy warrior goddess in a bath towel. But still a warrior.”
Those huge brown eyes widened, and she cupped his face in both palms as if to force him to look at her. Little did she know, he couldn’t have looked anywhere else.
Chapter Ten
September 17
Tweet by Jake Newman @NotJustAnotherChris
#ColdShowers hydrate and tighten your skin, improve immunity and blood circulation, and enhance mood. Yep, that’s why I take them. #SoSingleItHurts
Several days’ worth of soft scruff covered Jake’s cheeks, tickling Rayah’s palms as she stared into his eyes. How did anyone have silver eyes?
She’d been called a lot of things, but no one had ever called her a warrior. Her doctors and therapists called her too stubborn to quit. Her dad thought she was too weak-willed to keep pushing. Blaine would always worry she wasn’t strong enough, because he’d seen her at her weakest. But maybe, just maybe, Jake saw what she thought had died alongside her mother: the Rayah who fought for what she wanted, the one who wouldn’t settle for less than she deserved. The one who loved without reservation.
“You believe that, don’t you?” She held him still, searching his eyes.
“Of course I do,” he said with the conviction and nonchalance of one stating empirical fact. “You know, you ask me that a lot. What—”
For the first time in years, Rayah trusted her gut, and her gut wanted Jake. She told herself it was another thank-you kiss, a sweet, innocent meeting of mouths. The moment her lips touched his, that reasoning went up in smoke and took her caution, her good sense, and her self-preservation with it.
