Page 67 of Average Joe

“A hard shell protecting a bruised heart.”

Me in a nutshell. “You’re not wrong.”

“I’m not a bad guy, and I’m not someone you need to protect yourself from.”

I turned to straddle the bench and stared at Joe’s massive chest before meeting his earnest gaze. “Despite what you think or how I act around you, I’m not unhappy. I like my life.”

Warm eyes studied me, a soul-deep probe. With a sigh, Joe asked, “You ever been married?”

“No.”

“That guy who was at your house earlier, he a boyfriend?”

“Oh, God no.” I scrubbed my hands over my face, a laugh erupting. “That sorry excuse for a man is my father.”

“He’s your dad?” Joe jerked back, sitting straighter. “I should’ve shown some respect.”

“He doesn’t deserve your respect. Trust me.”

“I see.” Joe stared long and hard, then cleared his throat before saying, “Daddy issues.”

My wounds ran deeper than the damage my father had inflicted. True, I had a history of looking for love in all the wrong places and, yes, I had one hundred percent blamed my father until I’d realized dads weren’t the only assholes who left. All men left. At least, the men in my life. Unhealed wounds started to ache, and tears threatened to fall.

Joe laid a hand on my thigh and gave a gentle squeeze. “He really did a number, huh?”

I blinked against the burn behind my eyes. “Can we not talk about Warren anymore?”

“Not a problem.” He smiled and grabbed the last taco off the plate. “You want this?”

I shook my head no.

He finished his meal in three bites, pure bliss on his face. Jeez, the man was striking. My stomach fluttered. Not only because he was so attractive, but because, dammit, I really liked Joe Kaine.

“Can I ask you a personal question?”

He wiped his mouth with a napkin. “I’ve been inside you. Multiple times. Doesn’t get more personal than that.”

“What were you in for?”

“Ah, shit.” He scratched his forehead, then dropped his gaze to the space between us.

“That bad?”

Chin down, he lifted his eyes to mine. “You really wanna know?”

“I do,” I blurted before considering the consequences. But did I? Knowing the truth might forever change our twisted dynamic. “I don’t.” I shook my head with little conviction. But then curiosity would eat me alive. A nervous laugh escaped, and I admitted, “I don’t know.”

Joe assessed our surroundings, I assumed to make sure no one was in earshot. He leaned close and whispered, “Killed a man. It was an accident,” then leaned back again, eyes worried, waiting for my response.

“Oh.” That was far worse than the criminal shenanigans I’d imagined. “Ohhhh.” I’d lost my ability to speak.

“Not proud of what I’ve done.” He grabbed my hands and held them tight as if afraid I would flee. “Paid my dues.”

“Hmm.”

“That all you’ve got to say?”

He’d taken a life. That had to be a complicated, painful truth to live with. “Wow. Murder.”

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