Page 44 of So Bad It Must Be Good

Chapter Eleven

Kayla was sick with nerves, which wasn’t all that uncommon in her life, really, but it was uncommon when it came to Liam.

Still, they hadn’t exactly discussed . . . anything. They’d agreed to see each other tonight, but what did that mean? She didn’t have a time, a place. All he’d done was fucking nod at her and repeat tomorrow.

She kind of wanted to punch him right about now.

Instead, she’d picked up a pizza at a place kind of close to his house, and she was going to be damn brave enough to march up to his door and offer dinner and sex. And if he turned her down, she’d live.

Maybe punch him too, but mostly she’d live.

But as she turned onto his street, his truck was parked where he always seemed to park it, which meant he was home. Probably.

Her stomach lurched and even the smell of pizza didn’t help. Why was she doing this? What was the point of potentially embarrassing herself?

She looked at his little house and thought about his meticulously organized workshop, the way he’d kissed her last night, the scrape of his beard on her thighs.

Okay, well, there were some convincing arguments there. She grabbed the pizza and got out of her car. She breathed through the nerves as she walked up to his front door.

Embarrassment wasn’t fatal. Feeling foolish would eventually fade, so she had everything to gain and nothing to lose. If she could only get that through to her churning stomach.

She stood on his porch and probably the only thing that eventually got her to knock on Liam’s door was a man staring at her a little too intently from across the street.

It didn’t take long for the door to swing open, and he must have looked out a peephole or something because he was smiling when he opened it. “Hey.”

“Hi,” she managed. “I hope I’m not . . . overstepping,” she offered lamely, and then inwardly berated herself for it.

“Not at all.”

Before she thought better of it, she reached out with her free hand and cupped his cheek, rubbing her thumb over the coarse texture. “You look tired.”

His mouth curved in that world-weary way of his. “I was up half the night taking care of a drunk person.”

“That’s a nasty habit you have.” Something like jealousy poked at her, though she didn’t want to be that girl. But apparently she was. “Who?”

“Aiden.”

“Oh.” She felt unaccountably awkward at the mention of the brother she’d first agreed to go out with.

“It was . . . Well, you brought pizza. Come inside.” He took the box from her and walked toward his kitchen. Kayla closed the door and followed him.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He grabbed two plates from a cupboard. “Why?”

She studied him for a moment, coming to the conclusion he was well and truly baffled. That it would never occur to him to unload his problems on someone else. It was fascinating because she recognized that, though they came at it from different places.

She’d always been told by someone or another that her problems were less important, and so she’d learned to stuff them down. Liam seemed to take responsibility for everything, to hold that responsibility to himself because he felt as though it was his job to fix.

But maybe that came from a similar place. She’d been an avoider. He was clearly a fixer, but maybe it all stemmed from feeling like their own problems weren’t worthy.

“Sometimes it feels good to tell someone what’s bothering you.”

He stared at the pizza as he seemed to puzzle over her words. Something in her chest pinched. Maybe her heart. She wanted . . . She wanted him to tell her what was wrong, and she wanted to offer him some comfort.

“It is what it is.” He squared his shoulders and smiled at her. “I’ll fix it.” So certain and sure.

“You’ll fix what exactly?” she pressed, and then wondered why she was pressing when she could be eating pizza or having sex or not talking about his brother who’d asked her out not all that long ago.

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