“I can see you standing there,” he said.
Of course he could. She was standing in front of a window. “So?”
“Please let me in.” He held up the box in his hand. “I come bearing pastry and an apology.”
“Really?” The man was such an asshole. Did he really think she was that much of an idiot? “You brought cannoli? That move doesn’t get you in my pants anymore.”
“It’s not cannoli. It’s rum cake.”
Oh. Toasted almonds. Shut up, Regina. Dickhead alert. Stay focused. “That doesn’t get you laid either.”
He sighed and lowered the box back down. “I’m not trying to screw you, Gina.”
“Yeah, you only like to screw me over.” Which, while a clever retort, was both true and depressing—like a nature documentary where the little baby hippo ends up getting eaten by a pack of lions.
“Please just let me in. We need to talk.”
Her natural curiosity wondering just what he was up to joined forces with that lizard brain part of herself that still responded to him with happy sighs and excited squeals. That’s how she ended up opening the door before she could stop herself. Stupid pheromones and brain.
“At least this saves me from having to decide between burning your stuff in my driveway or taking it to your house, so you might as well come in.”
Okay, so she’d binged a few days’ worth of chick-gets-revenge movies this week that had given her ideas. It wasn’t like she’d followed through on any of them.
“Thanks,” Ford said as he walked past her.
She did not take a big whiff as he got near. She did not check out his ass when she turned to close the door. She did check out his hands as they cradled the white box from Vacilli’s. He was just in her line of sight. That’s all.
“You can wait in the kitchen, I’ll bring the box down.”
“I can get it.” He started toward the stairs leading to her room.
“No.” There wasn’t any way in hell that she could let him into her bedroom again. “Uninvited guests stay downstairs.”
She got up to the third step before his voice stopped her.
“Gina, I’m sorry.” There was a raw edge to his tone that took it an octave lower, as if he was trying to keep something inside him from breaking out. “Kyle is a dickhead but he was right, I lied to get into your house. I was assigned to be here. It wasn’t by choice. I couldn’t let Gallo come watch over you, not after that night in the hotel.”
Her grip tightened on the banister, but she didn’t turn around. She couldn’t.
“I couldn’t stop thinking about you, and when the captain gave me the assignment, I took it. Even then I was afraid if I did that I’d break my biggest rule and get involved with someone that I couldn’t. You were an assignment and a Luca—and I didn’t trust myself to follow the rules when I was around you.”
This was his apology? His justification? The weak man defense?
“And after the assignment ended, it was even worse not being around you. That’s why I came back after I got suspended, because I couldn’t not see you again. I thought we could move forward without me ever having to admit what I’d done. I was wrong about that, but I wasn’t wrong about us.”
She was shaking. Maybe not on the outside, but inside it was the mother of all earthquakes going on because, against all odds, she wanted to believe him. She wanted to have that fairy tale. And that scared her more than anything else in this world ever could.
Not trusting what would come out of her mouth, she kept it shut tight and went up the stairs to get the box of Ford’s things that she’d gone to sleep staring at every night since she’d walked out of the Haringtons’ house like some sort of kicked puppy.
The box wasn’t heavy, just a little awkward because of the dimensions, so she was careful carrying it back down the stairs, making sure each foot was firm on one step before putting her weight on it. That made the trip down slower than the trip up—well, that and making sure her foot didn’t go through the wonky step he’d promised to fix but never had. She set the box down on the table near the front door and crossed over to the kitchen, opening her mouth to let him know she was back, but the words died on her tongue.