Close Contact

“—there has to have been a guy. A casual date? Someone you only talked to?”

“Why won’t you believe me?”

He leveled a look on her. “Because I can’t bend my brain around the idea of you being alone. With the way you look, you must’ve had a dozen men after you.”

Warmed by the compliment, she pretended to think about it again. “Now that you mention it, I have talked to Woody a few times.”

His back went straight. “Woody?”

“Woody Barstow. Nice guy. Very laid-back, friendly. Kind to the cats.”

Brows coming down, Miles said, “Maybe I need to check up on Woody.”

“Sure. He’s my nearest neighbor at about eight miles away.”

“Why didn’t you mention him before?”

“Because I’m not involved with him.” She took a final sip of her cola, then added, “Plus, he’s almost eighty.”

The most comical look came over Miles’s face, and she couldn’t help but laugh.

“I’m trying to be serious.” When she continued to snicker, he muttered, “It’s not that funny.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” A different expression entered his eyes. “You really haven’t been with anyone?”

That sobered her real quick. “I need to explain, don’t I?”

“Wouldn’t hurt.”

That was what he thought. So, where to start? “I sort of have to go...well, way back. Be patient, okay?”

“I’m all ears.”

“When I was eighteen, I thought I was in love.”

Expression arrested, he repeated, “Eighteen?”

“Yeah.” She shrugged. “Seven years ago, but it matters.”

“Okay.”

“Anyway, I was dating this older guy and I thought I was in love. My family didn’t like him. They thought he was trouble.”

Miles waited.

“And he was. Big trouble. It’s a long, hideous story, but the shortened version is that one night, while we were all on vacation, he and his friends came in uninvited. They robbed us, did a lot of damage to irreplaceable heirlooms, destroyed and vandalized just for the fun of it.” She looked down at her hands, now clasped together. Shame closed her throat, but she forced herself to finish. “He’d gotten the entry code from me.”

Without censure, Miles asked, “You gave it to him?”

“No. But he watched when I punched it in.”

“How do you know it was him?”

“Security cameras. They...did disgusting things on my sister’s bed. Even on my mother’s bed.”

“On your bed?” he asked quietly.

“Yes.” But as her family had said, she’d brought that on herself. They, however, hadn’t. “You can imagine how my family reacted. They’d told me not to see him, told me he was no good, and I didn’t listen. I argued, dramatically claimed we were in love, and then he proved them right and I was so ashamed, I didn’t even know what to say.”

Miles reached over one long arm to tweak her braid. “You were eighteen, Maxi. No one listens at eighteen. Sometimes we have to learn things the hard way.”

“Well, I thought I had learned. I went a long time avoiding guys after that. Romance and guilt didn’t mix so great.” She drew a deep breath. “And then I met another guy a year ago.”

“Wait.” Miles shifted. “You went how long without getting serious?”

“Five years.”

“So only casual dating—”

“You don’t understand. My first boyfriend destroyed an antique my mother had inherited from her great-grandmother. My sister, who is fanatical about everything, wouldn’t even go back in her room because of what he did in there. She moved out.”

“Your dad?”

“He died when I was younger. It was just my mom, sister and me. My brother, who’s eight years older, had already gone out on his own.”

“Well, maybe your sis was just ready to move on, too.”

“No, she rightly blamed me.”

“Bullshit. There’s nothing right about that.”

“They would disagree.”

“You were a victim, same as them.”

“No, I’d set that fire. Getting burned was my own fault. Unfortunately, they got burned, too, and that’s unforgivable.”

Miles shook his head. “Let’s get back to this new guy you’re involved with.”

“Used to be involved with,” she corrected. “It fell apart when I caught him cheating.” She gave him a stern frown. “I despise cheaters.”

“Any intelligent, moral person would.”

Mollified, she explained, “He didn’t want it to end and continually made a pest of himself.”

“If he didn’t want it to end, he should have kept it in his pants.”