Page 82 of Average Joe

Joe’s eyes darkened, reflecting my desire.

Heaven help me.

I moved to escape his heated gaze, but my back hit the side of the shed.

With a grin full of evil intent, Joe braced one hand over my head and captured my chin with the other. Lips dangerously close, he asked, “Are we still fighting?”

“We weren’t fighting,” I whispered, debating whether to bite his bottom lip or shove my tongue down his throat.

Joe’s face cracked into a wide grin, happy wrinkles forming at the corners of his eyes. “Are you still mad?”

“It would be safe for you to assume yes.” I swallowed. Moistened my lips. “Always yes.”

Bruce barked from the other side of the garage. Joe rubbed his thumb over my cheek, his breaths getting heavy, the rhythm matching my own. “You got a dog.”

“Yes.” I nodded, reeling from his tender hold on my face. “A guard dog who obviously failed at his job.”

“He wouldn’t let me in the gate. I had to bring Ginger over to distract him.”

“Oh, my God. No!” I pushed Joe out of the way. “He’ll tear her to shreds.”

“Don’t worry.” He chuckled. “They’re playing.”

“Joe. Ginger is a tasty treat. Bruce is a beast, and I haven’t fed him yet today.”

“Marley.” He gripped my arms just above the elbow, his gesture meant to soothe but flooding my psyche with unwanted memories. “Relax. They’re fine.”

Relax. They’re fine.

Suddenly, I couldn’t breathe. I was six again, watching the men in blue drag my daddy away while he cried and yelled, “I’m sorry, baby girl. I’m sorry,” while an officer held me back, kept me from running after my dad, his large hands squeezing my arms hard enough to leave bruises.

Over and over, that cop tried to reassure me, chanting, “Relax. He’ll be fine.He’ll be fine.”

“Let go of me!” I jerked free of Joe’s grip and rubbed the sensation away. He hadn’t hurt me, but they lingered anyway—the ghost pains.

Angry tears escaped.

“Marley.” Calm and cool, Joe asked, “What just happened?”

My father happened. His recent resurfacing had my gray matter all mashed up. “I gotta go.”

“Hey, listen.” Joe allowed a few more inches to separate us, scratching the top of his head, clearly confused and, oh, God, was that worry or realization? Maybe the puzzle pieces had clicked into place. He finally understood that my life was a pile of shit, and whatever fun we had in the sack was not worth all my crazy.

“Just go!” I shooed him away, seconds from an epic tear duct malfunction. “Take your dog. Go home.”

“Marley,” he pleaded, voice laced with emotion.

“Bruce!” I yelled.

Bruce ignored me, distracted by the little creature running circles around his massive paws.

“Bruce!” I called again, voice breaking on a sob. Nobody, especially my sex partner, needed to see my breakdown.

“Marley. Hey. Shit.” Joe came at me, arms lifting for an embrace I didn’t think I could handle.

I shoved at his chest, attempting to put distance between us.

Joe snapped a massive hand around my wrist and hauled me against him.

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