Sweetheart.
Those damn butterflies swarmed to life in my stomach again. I fiddled with the glass of orange juice, shifting in place. I wished I had some of that mai tai bravado left over.
I cleared my throat and gestured between us.
“Did we…? You know…last night?”
“Sleep together?” Tarzan shook his head. “No. I slept on the floor. You were pretty close to passing out in the parking lot at the concert. I wanted to take you home, but I didn’t have an address. So, I figured my brother’s house was the next best option. I’m new in town, and I’m staying with him until I can find my own place.”
I sighed, studying my orange juice. If only I had been sober, I could have handled this whole situation with more dignity and finesse. And I wouldn’t look like a desperate wreck, throwing myself at the guy I was crushing on.
“For the record,” Tarzan continued. “My brother doesn’t know you’re here.”
“Oh.”
Disappointment mingled with relief in my chest. I didn’t blame him if he was embarrassed to be seen with me. On the other hand, I was grateful that Tarzan hadn’t bragged about the drunk girl who kept trying to make out with him.
“If my brother knew that I brought a girl home,” he said. “He would never let you have a moment of peace. I thought you’d prefer some privacy this morning instead of getting pestered by a million questions. Teddy can be too nosy for his own good. Especially when it comes to my personal life.”
Whoever she is—the woman that broke your heart—it’s her loss. You’re one helluva catch, Tarzan.
I remembered that, clear as a bell. The gut feeling had been nagging at me ever since I first saw Tarzan. Loving someone so deeply and then suffering a broken heart because of them was a special kind of torture that changed you. It left a mark that most folks would miss.
Unless you went through that kind of heartbreak yourself. Then you recognized it on sight.
Inching closer, I perched on the mattress next to Tarzan. Setting aside my orange juice, I took two pieces of toast from the tray and handed one to him. He accepted it with a brief smile of gratitude.
“What was her name?” I asked. “The woman you loved before.”
He paused for a moment. His throat worked, as if it pained him to say her name.
“Stevie. It could never happen and I knew that.”
I nodded, nibbling on my toast.
“Just because your head knew it wouldn’t happen doesn’t mean your heart got the message.”
Tarzan breathed a faint laugh.
“Someone should tattoo that on my fucking forehead. What about you? The asshole who ditched you a week before your wedding. What was his name?”
The toast turned dry and tasteless in my mouth. Tossing it back on the plate, I brushed the crumbs off my hands.
“Royce. He was some rich kid from New York, looking to escape his controlling family. He made the prettiest promises of traveling the world together, raising a family, and being in love until we were old and gray.”
Tarzan frowned, pressing his lips together as if he was physically restraining himself from saying something insensitive.
“I know, I know,” I said. “I was naive and gullible and I fell for his charming lies. It turned out that he met a rich girl from another rich family. And the thought of having rich babies together was more exciting than…marrying a chubby diner waitress from a small town.”
Tarzan’s frown deepened even further. Leaning past me, he placed the last of his toast on the plate next to mine. For a brief moment, he was so close that I could have pressed my lips to his neck with no effort at all.
Then he straightened up, putting a respectable distance between us again.
“Don’t do that.” His voice was gravelly and rough. “Don’t discount yourself because that prick couldn’t see how lucky he was to have someone like you.”
I huffed with amusement. “Says the guy who didn’t call me back.”
Tarzan winced. “Look, I can explain—”
