Right now all he wanted was his damn dog.
That was what he’d argued with Nicole about at the charity party. He’d asked how Roosevelt was, and she’d used that as an excuse to tell him he was a selfish asshole.
Jesus. He couldn’t win.
He’d begged Rayleen to let him keep the dog in the apartment, but even if she’d said yes, he couldn’t have pulled it off. There were just too many days he wouldn’t be around to let the dog out. If he had a yard, Roosevelt would be fine, but in an apartment? No. Plus, technically the dog probably didn’t belong to him. He’d raised it from a pup, but Roosevelt was a ranch dog.
“Shit,” he cursed, trying to decide if he should just go on to the saloon and get drunk.
But there’d be friends at the saloon. People who’d want to talk. And he didn’t want friendly faces. He’d rather drink among strangers. Flirt with girls who didn’t know anything about him. Maybe get into a fight over a hot piece of ass who didn’t even know his name. At a place like that, he had only his assets and none of his faults, and no one wanted him to be anything more.
The curtain in Charlie’s window twitched. He clutched the steering wheel for a moment, torn between staying and going.
In the end, Walker started the truck and drove on.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
SHE WOKE UP to sun, thank God. The temperature didn’t matter to her, as long as it wasn’t raining. She had to get out for a run, and if she’d been forced int
o that workout room again, she would have lost her mind.
Last night had gone fantastically wrong, and Charlie was still reeling. She had to get out in the fresh air. She had to breathe.
If pressed, she would never have guessed that Walker could’ve been that sensitive about anything. She’d also never have guessed that any amount of irritation could keep him from free sex. His very favorite hobby was flirting. And he damn sure seemed to enjoy sex. But she’d pissed him off so much he’d walked away from it.
Or at least from her. She didn’t know where he’d gone last night, after all. Maybe to see some woman who didn’t care that he had trouble with reading. Or maybe to see Nicole.
Charlie pulled on her running clothes and dug a hoodie and gloves from a packing box in her closet.
It was okay. If he’d gone to see Nicole, then this little fling was over. That was all. No hard feelings.
But if he hadn’t, then Charlie needed to apologize and explain. She didn’t think he was dumb. She didn’t think there was a damn thing wrong with him except stubbornness. He had dyslexia, but he’d be able to read and write much more easily if he applied himself. Not well enough to read a book in a day, maybe, but well enough that it wouldn’t interfere with what he wanted in life.
“That’s none of your business,” she muttered as she pulled on her shoes. “You’re not his girlfriend.”
Then again, she was his friend. Surely that counted for something.
Pissed at herself and at Walker, she grabbed her headphones and headed out the door.
Walker’s door opened at the exact same time. They stared at each other in shock. Charlie’s shock quickly exploded into dismay. “Oh, my God! Walker, what happened to your face?”
He gave her a rather tight-lipped smile, probably because the left half of his bottom lip was swollen. She rushed across the landing to look closer. “Oh, no.” She reached carefully toward his black eye but didn’t touch it. “Are you okay? Were you in an accident?”
“Not exactly.”
In addition to the purple-and-black bruise around his eye and the fat lip, there was an angry red cut across one of his cheekbones. “Were you in a fight?”
“Yeah.”
“Walker! Where the hell did you go last night?”
He shut his apartment door and sighed. Then, instead of answering, he shrugged on his shearling coat and adjusted his hat.
“Oh. I see. None of my business?”
“Shit, Charlie. I don’t know. I just... I was pissed at you. I’m sorry.”
She nodded, waiting for him to go on and dreading it.