Chapter Nine
Julia sulked about his interference for the next three days, only speaking to him when necessary. They lived in the same house and traveled to the club together, yet she continued to give him the silent treatment.
He’d had enough.
Ryan waited until she finished her shower and returned to her bedroom. He took a quick shower, pulled on a pair of boxer-briefs and headed for her room ready to have the subject out with her. If that meant an argument then too bad. He was sick of damn pussyfooting around her.
He rapped on the door, waited an instant. Of course she didn’t invite him in. Bugger that. He shoved the door open and stormed inside. “I want our marriage to work. I was trying to help, damn it.”
“I know.” Julia reclined on the bed and looked as miserable as he’d felt since their confrontation.
“I don’t want to argue with you.”
She sat up, then climbed under the covers and propped a pillow behind her for greater comfort. “I wish you and Caleb had talked to me first.”
“Would you have accepted our money?”
Her forehead scrunched up as she hesitated. “I don’t know. Maybe. But you didn’t give me a chance because you took the decision out of my hands.”
“Look, we’re both new to this marriage business. We’re going to make mistakes.”
“Not me,” she said, but her cheeks reddened at the patent untruth.
“No? You don’t think you jumped to conclusions without giving me the benefit of doubt?”
“We’re not talking about the loan anymore,” she said in a flat voice.
“No.”
“I tried to ring you. I tried to email you. I even rang your manager. Then there were the photos.” She sucked in a deep breath, staring down at her hands. “When I was twenty-one I got engaged. The entire time my fiancé was cheating on me. His actions might have colored my reaction to you.”
News to him. “How did you discover he was cheating?”
“An STD. I hadn’t slept with anyone else, which meant he had.”
“Hell,” Ryan said.
“Yeah.”
Indignation filled him on her behalf and a slice of pissed too, at her dumping a crappy past at his door and judging him by the same standards as her ex. He hadn’t damn well cheated on her, hadn’t looked at another woman. “I didn’t deserve that.”
“No, you didn’t,” she said, eyes narrowing when he sent her a stink eye. “Don’t you think I know that? How unfair I’m being? I can’t help it. The guilt—” Her lips pressed together, and she gave an irritable shrug. “It’s cold tonight. Why don’t you get into bed with me?”
Her casual suggestion took some of the ginger out of his mood, but not enough to make his mind stop working. “Why are you guilty?”
When she ignored his question, Ryan slid under the covers and slithered closer. Perhaps pushing his luck, he wrapped his arms around her and drew her against his chest. To his relief she gave a tired sigh and relaxed into his embrace. “We should make a pact,” he whispered against her hair.
“And that would be?”
“We need to talk about things instead of jumping to conclusions. We will never build trust between us if we don’t share our thoughts.”
“I know. I’m guilty of running away and hiding my head in the sand.” Her voice was muffled against his shoulder. “I told you I tried to contact you while the band was in Europe.”
“But you understand the lack of communication was a mistake, a one off. It will never happen again.”
“I do. A comedy of errors.”
Ryan snorted. “Black errors.” His fingers roved her back. “I’ve hated sleeping alone during the last couple of nights.”
