Branded as Trouble

“Or we could double.” Belle suddenly got very excited as if that were a wonderful idea.

It wasn’t.

Mila would rather eat two cacti than double date with her best friend’s mom.

“And there’s Roman,” Belle added a moment later.

Mila silently cursed, wondering if the woman was actually going to start playing matchmaker. But Belle wasn’t looking at her. Instead, her attention was on the room she shared with Tate and Roman.

And Roman was there.

In the doorway.

Mila got another of those tingles again. An especially warm one that went all the way to places that should be no-tingle zones. Because Roman didn’t see her that way. He only saw her as Valerie’s and Tate’s cousin.

“Oh, there’s Twila Fay Betterton,” Belle said. “Yoo-hoo, Twila Fay!” she called out, and waved at the woman. “She’s probably here because her hemorrhoids are giving her fits again,” she added in a whisper to Mila. “Why don’t you go check on Roman while I talk to her?”

Again, without waiting for Mila to respond, Belle took off, wheeling her way toward Twila Fay, who did indeed look as if she were suffering from some kind of anal pain. Or maybe that was her usual expression.

And speaking of expressions, Mila tried to fix hers before she started toward Roman. She went with what she hoped was a friendly but casual smile. It faded quickly, though, when Roman staggered a bit and caught on to the doorframe to steady himself. Mila shoved the dating site list in her purse, hurried to him, and just like that, he was in her arms.

“Dizzy spell,” he snarled.

“Then you shouldn’t be standing. Come on. Let me get you in bed.”

Bad choice of words. Very bad. Because she went stiff, and there’s no way Roman could have missed that since they were touching in several places. Not the tingly place, thank goodness.

He chuckled, all low and husky. It sent out a Texas-size amount of pheromones. Mila quickly tried to rein in any effect that might have on her.

Too late.

The effect was there.

Roman put a stop to that, though, by brushing a kiss on the top of her head. It was the kind of thing a man might do to his sister. Or a friend. It was a kiss of death for any woman wanting romance. Which she wasn’t, Mila assured herself.

She led him to the bed and had him sit. Again, not a bright idea because she ended up between his legs, too close to him and with their gazes practically colliding.

“Thank you again for what you did for Tate,” he said.

Another nail in her kiss-of-death coffin. He felt obligated to her. And he shouldn’t. “Tate wasn’t in any real danger,” she reminded him. Thank God. “Someone would have found him soon enough, or he would have woken up on his own.”

Mila was about to add that when she took those particular meds the drowsiness only lasted a couple of hours, but she really didn’t want to discuss anything to do about the discomforts of her menstrual cycle with Roman.

“So, did you give Mom those dating sites?” he asked.

She stepped back from him. Nodded. And, in turn, Belle had given her a list. “If she goes through with any dates—” she put dates in air quotes “—then Clay will vet the guys.”

“Like he does for you?”

Mila didn’t make eye contact with him. Didn’t confirm what he’d just said, either, but she suspected this had come up in his conversation with Sophie.

“It works,” she answered, trying to sound light and carefree. “I’m in one piece.”

Physically, anyway. Whenever she was around Roman, she felt a little damaged. As if all the pieces were there but not in the right places.

Maybe that’s why there was tingling in her panties.

“You’re too good a person to not have someone in your life,” he added a moment later.

“Pot calling the kettle black.” She hoped that would cause him to chuckle again just so she could hear that pheromone-y sound.

But no. Roman shook his head. “I’m not a good person.”

Mila nearly jumped to argue with that. There were better than good things about him. He’d raised his son on his own. He’d built a business. And he hadn’t been in trouble with the law in years.

All right, that last part wasn’t so much good as it was that Roman had learned to follow the straight and narrow. Or maybe he’d just learned not to get caught.

“I don’t want anyone in my life,” he continued. “I only have room for Tate right now.”

Of course, she’d known that, but it was a little soul-crushing to hear him say it aloud. And this time, the words really sank in. Not just his, but Belle’s, too. And Sophie’s.

Because Mila did indeed want someone in her life.

She always had. She’d just wanted the wrong person, and it was obvious that wasn’t going to change. In fact, it could get worse. After what’d happened, Roman probably was going to spend even more time and energy just being a dad.

Mila glanced down at her purse. It was still open, and she could see the note with the dating sites that Belle had given her. She’d planned to toss it first chance she got, but that wouldn’t happen now.

Maybe it was time to move past the fantasy level and find someone who could fill all these empty places in her life.

Maybe it was time for clothing removal, after all.

CHAPTER SIX (#ue2624a61-937f-5731-bb4f-ac9624daaae2)

ROMAN HADN’T BEEN sure there was anything worse than his mother’s annoying verbal jabs. But there was. And it was his son’s silence.

Now that Belle had been sent home the day before, Tate and he had the room to themselves. Something that Roman had wanted. That’s because he’d envisioned it giving them a chance to have some long, meaningful conversations.

It hadn’t.

Tate was playing with the yo-yo Vita had sent him while he watched some show about soy farmers. Not that there was a good channel selection on the hospital TV, but it was a hit to the ego that his son preferred organic soy farming to him. Before that, Tate had preferred a documentary on dwindling fly-fishing spots. Before that, he’d played a game on his phone until the battery had died. When no one had been able to find him a charger, the marathon of compelling TV had started.

Roman wasn’t sure how much longer this would go on. They were waiting on Dr. Sanchez to give them a yay or nay verdict. Nay would mean they’d have to stay in the hospital one more day.

A yay would mean they could go home.

Tate was fine physically and probably could have already left, but Roman was thankful the doctor had kept the boy with him. This way, they could leave for home together instead of Tate having to stay with the housekeeper, Garrett or Sophie.

“As soon as we get home, I’ll start looking for a new school for you,” Roman threw out there. Like everything else he’d said to his son, he rethought that. Maybe Tate wasn’t mentally ready for school yet, but he couldn’t imagine that it would be a good idea for him to just sit around in between therapy appointments.