I’m over at Once Upon A Crime talking about “The Art of Confusion”.
Continuing from last week, Brett had insisted that Melissa stay with him since some gunman is after her. Brave soul. Let’s see what his ulterior motive might be, shall we?
She wouldn’t talk to him. Here he was, risking his life, and she wouldn’t speak two words to him. She sat in the passenger seat of his car, silent, arms crossed, as if he was the criminal. Fuming, he was pissed that she wanted to brush him off without even giving him a chance. The rational part of his brain realized that she had been doing the right thing. They didn’t know each other. Why drag him into it? What she didn’t know was Brett Winn decided when he wasn’t going to give a relationship a chance.
Instantly, he recognized his ego talking there. He had to admit, he’d done all the brushing off of women in the past. Oh, he’d been charming and nice about it pulling out the “Let’s be friends” motif, but the truth was there in front of him. He didn’t like rejection. What man did?
“Do you have any family to call to let them know where you are?” He tried to break their twenty minutes silence. God, he hated southern California traffic.
“No. No one.” Something about her dead tone made his heart clench. He had lots of siblings. He didn’t like all of them, but he had them. “Alone” was not something he understood. Here was a woman without anyone to care about her. It was sad.
“Well, you’re not missing much.” He quipped and tried to lighten the mood. “The only thing I get from my siblings are phone calls checking up on me and giving me unwanted advice.”
“Most people don’t appreciate what they have, I’ve found.” Her tone was dry and she didn’t even glance at him.
He was a little miffed. “I’ve found that too. I mean, if someone is willing to help another person, it does seem a little ungrateful to refuse, don’t you think?”
She glared at him. “I never asked you for anything.”
“And yet, I offered to help.” He raised one eyebrow. “I take it you enjoy being alone?”
A shattered expression in her eyes made him wince. “Of course.” She turned away but not before he noted unshed tears.
“Well, not to worry.” He said cheerfully. “I only have a big, massive dog to contend with. You’ll be alone a lot.”
“I could be alone in my own apartment.” She said through gritted teeth.
“But then I’d worry.” He grinned at her. “And that would be tragic. Come on. Take pity on me.”
Her lips twitched. “Does this act work on anybody?”
“Not yet, but I’m hoping.”
She shook her head. “You’re crazy.”
“That’s what my mother says.” He shot her an amused glance. “It’s a family trait. Don’t worry. Nixon doesn’t bite.”
“Nixon? You named your dog Nixon?” She snorted. “Why?”
“You won’t have Nixon to kick around anymore.” Brett gave his best Nixon impression minus the “I am not a crook” hand signals since he was driving.
She laughed and something shifted inside his gut. It was as if he’d waited all his life to hear her laugh. It was a little disturbing.
Stay tuned for next weeks’ installment.