Keeping Score by Cathryn Fox
Reagan
With my body still shaking from a dream that should be classified as a nightmare, I push from my bed, and take a few deep breaths. How can I be shaking when my clothes are drenched? Oh, probably because I just had a ridiculously hot dream about the man sleeping one door down from me, and deep in my soul, I’m shaking because I know it’s wrong.
I walk quietly across the room, leaving the lights out, not wanting to wake anyone in the house, and head to the bathroom. I’m not sure whether to splash my face with hot or cold water. Maybe a warm shower will do the trick to calm my body down. I walk to the sink, and look at myself in the mirror. My heart stalls. The mirror is foggy. But that’s not the only thing sending warnings to my brain. Nope, something—or someone else—is in the bathroom with me.
“Hey,” I hear, and turn toward the shower to find Rocco standing there, the shower doors open, and he has a big towel wrapped around his waist.
My entire body quivers, from the hair on my head to the tips of my toes. I hug myself and a strange gurgling sound crawls out of my throat. Within a second, he’s right there, standing in front of me. All big muscles full of protective instincts and worry.
“Are you okay?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Shit, you’re shivering uncontrollably.” His brow furrows. “I never should have taken you to the ocean. You caught a chill.” He pulls me to his warm body and I melt against him. His big hands run up and down my back, creating heat with friction. But that’s not what’s really warming me as I become acutely aware that he’s nearly naked and I’m dressed only in a T-shirt and pajama shorts.
“I…I…” I close my mouth. Really, I have no idea what I’m trying to say.
“You need a hot shower.”
He drags me backward, keeping my body anchored to his, and turns on the spray. Before I even realize what’s happening, I’m in the shower—with him.
“My clothes,” I say, but the protest is feeble, even to me.
“I didn’t think you’d want me to take them off you.”
He’d be right.
He’d also be wrong.
“But they’re see-through now.”
“I know what a woman’s naked body looks like, Reagan.”
I nod, and a strange pang of jealousy grips my stomach. What the hell is that all about? He’s a player and I have a boyfriend. Sure, we’re broken up this month, but we’re going to get married someday.
“Why…are you in here with me?”
“You actually looked like you saw a ghost. You’re so shaken up, I didn’t want you slipping and cracking your head open.”
My throat tightens at the way he’s touching me, nurturing me. For a boy who had no one, no role models to learn from, he’s sure doing a great job of caring for me. I guess it must just come naturally to him.
“Oh, okay.”
He pulls me tight to his body and puts me under the spray, gifting me with all the hot water. I shift a little, pulling him in with me, and at first he’s hesitant, and it’s so strange, the way his thoughtfulness gets to me. I grew up with loving, caring parents, and have a boyfriend, yet everything in the way this guy from the streets touches me, fills me with a different kind of comfort. I slide my arms around his waist, the towel wet and heavy around his hips. I wouldn’t be surprised if the knot let go and his towel fell. What would I do with a naked Rocco in the shower with me? Another stupid sound crawls out of my throat.
Rocco inches back, his gaze moving over my face. “You want to talk about it?”
“I had a bad dream. A nightmare, really.”
He nods in understanding and pushes my wet hair from my face. My heart flutters a little in my chest as his big hands touch me with such tenderness. His rough calluses that could cut skin, caress lightly, carefully. I put my face on his chest, listen to the pounding of his strong heart. The chills subside, Rocco’s heat creating another kind of storm inside me.
“Better?” he asks.
“Yes, thank you.”
He turns the water off, and we step from the shower. I begin to shiver again, until he wraps me in a big fluffy towel. He turns me so I’m staring at the door, and my body reacts to the sound of him changing towels. I resist the urge to turn around and admire his hard body.
“Okay, let’s get you back to bed.”
He keeps me close as we make the short trip to my room. “You need to get out of those wet clothes.”
I nod and step up to my dresser, and pull out a clean shirt and pajama shorts. I turn to find Rocco staring at me, his upper body damp, his eyes locked on me and I take a fast breath at the intensity in him—the tent in his towel.
“Can you turn around?”
“Yeah.” He stands there for another second, the air between us charged, and I’d have to be an idiot not to realize there’s something fierce and powerful arcing between us. He finally turns, and I struggle to get out of my wet clothes. I pull my shirt up, and get my arm tangled over my head. My God, I’m twisting and contorting, and ouch, I think I just pulled something.
“Reagan.”
His voice is soft, and labored and far too close.
“What?” I ask, and try to get air.
“Stay still.”
I do as he says, and his big hands are on my body again, his knuckles brushing over my rib cage as he slides his hands up and peels the wet shirt from my body. I stare at him, find his eyes closed, and appreciate the privacy he’s giving me.
I quickly tug on my dry shirt. “Thank you.”
He opens one eye, his gaze on mine. “Do you need any help with the shorts?”
The thoughts of his hands touching me anywhere, especially below the waist, sends heat sparking through me. I’m glad I’m not near anything combustible. Don’t sound breathless. Don’t sound breathless.
“I think I got it.”
Dammit, I sounded breathless.
He nods and turns and as I switch into a pair of dry pajama shorts, he goes to my bed and fusses with the bedding. Once I’m done, he looks me over slowly, takes a huge breath and tears his gaze away.
He holds the blankets up, the warmth of my bed inviting. “Get in,” he tells me, and I slowly walk to my bed, my arms wrapped around myself to hide my hard nipples. He’s seen nipples before, Reagan. Probably hundreds of nipples. That still doesn’t make me any less self-conscious.
I slide into the bed, and shift to the far side. I expect him to drop the blankets and leave. Instead, I hear a rustling sound, like he’s drying his body, and the other side of the bed dips, as he crawls in and pulls the blankets up over our head, cocooning us in. His towel brushes against my body and I’m glad he’s tied it around his waist again, I think.
“What are you doing?” I ask quietly.
“Just keeping you warm.”
“Rocco…”
“We’re friends, and this is what friends do.”
That’s news to me and I should argue, I want to argue, but the words won’t come out. He drags me to him, the little spoon to his big spoon, and smooths my hair down, allowing him to rest his chin on the top of my head. His heat wraps around me, the rhythm of his strong heartbeat pulling me under, despite the fact that my body is hyperaware of his.
“Sleep,” he orders, like he can hear my mind racing.
My lids fall shut, and the next thing I know, a noise at my window wakes me. My eyes open, and I’m no longer under the blankets. I turn over, and disappointment bursts inside me when I find the other side of the bed empty. I reach across, find it warm to the touch, and my heart speeds up. Rocco spent the night in my bed, and I’m not even upset about that. Angry words from the driveway below reach my ears, and my throat tightens.
Oh no.
I jump from my bed, and hurry to my window to find Cochrane and Rocco standing there. Rocco is dressed only in a pair of jeans. I quickly scan my room, and spot his towel on the floor. Did he leave it on all night, or did he toss it and sleep with me naked?
I look back outside, and Cochrane lifts his head, his eyes connecting with mine, and like a kid getting caught with their hand in the cookie jar, I jump back, hiding behind the curtain. What am I doing? I’m in my room. Alone. Sure, I slept in the same bed as Rocco, but Cochrane sold me to him in a damn card game. There is no need for me to act weird and childish. Guilty.
I straighten my shoulders and move back to my window, wanting to hear what they’re saying, but Cochrane is leaving, and Rocco is looking up at me. His body is tight, everything about him hard and unwavering. He backs up, out of my line of sight, and I press my face to the glass. Should I be afraid of him? Was I a fool for letting him care for me last night? Rocco Gianni is tough and brutal, a guy not to be messed with. Yet he touched me with such tenderness. Does he touch all girls like that?
Oh, Reagan, stop thinking you’re anything special.
Last night he told me he’d seen numerous naked women. Mine is just one of many, and in one month, life goes back to normal. To the way it was meant to be.
I don’t need to turn to know Rocco is at my door. I sense him, feel him staring at me. I slowly turn, and my God, the man is gorgeous. He eats up my doorway, and I can’t help but let my gaze fall over him. Neither of us speak. We both just stand there, looking our fill.
“What did he want?” I finally ask.
“You.”
“What did you tell him?”
“I told him you were with me, and if he didn’t like it, then he should come up with the money he owes me.”
His words hit like a slap, a hard reminder that I’m a pawn in a game. I have no idea why I’m about to say what I’m about to say, but can’t help myself. “I guess you’d prefer the money over having to stay here for the next month.”
“I can only assume it’s what you’d want.”
I slowly nod, hardly able to believe that I’d need time to think that over.
He pushes off the doorframe. “That’s what I figured. I have to get ready for practice.” He seems thoroughly pissed as he walks back to his room, his door closing with a hard click. Does he want to stay for the month? Would he prefer being here over taking the money? That can’t be right. This was Cochrane’s idea, not Rocco’s.
I stand there, perfectly still as he bangs around in his room. A second later, he passes by my door, a big duffle bag over his shoulder. He doesn’t glance in and he’s moving so fast, all I see is a blur.
I don’t have class for a while, but there’s no way I’m getting back to sleep now. I pick up my cell and note a dozen or so texts from Cochrane, all apologies saying he doesn’t know what he was thinking, that he panicked. I shake my head. He panicked all right and, in a bid to save his ass, he sold mine. I toss my phone and head to the shower to clear my head and settle my body. After I shower, all the while trying not to think about Rocco being in here with me, I dress, and go to the kitchen and find Miranda at the table sipping coffee. She stops scrolling through her phone and has a wicked little grin on her face when I enter, and our eyes meet. I brace myself.
“So, you and Rocco, huh?”
“There is no me and Rocco.” I grab a mug and pour a much-needed cup of coffee.
“That’s not the way I see it.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I grab the cereal, pour it into a bowl.
“I heard the fight between Rocco and Cochrane in the driveway this morning.”
“I heard bits of it, too.”
She eyes me. “Did you hear the bit where Rocco said you were his for thirty days and if Cochrane tries to talk to you, he’ll personally see about shutting his mouth…with his fist.”
I exhale. “This isn’t about Rocco wanting to be with me. It’s all to do with a bet. There’s more going on than I can say, but I’m not Rocco’s and he’s not mine.”
“A bet?” she asks.
I take a quick second, debating on what to say. I trust Miranda. We’ve been friends for a very long time. The card game, though. It’s illegal and the less who know the better. I can’t let Rocco get into trouble. I mean, Cochrane. Yeah, I can’t let Cochrane get into trouble and risk his future.
“Let’s just say, Cochrane couldn’t pay up, so now I’m stuck with Rocco for a month.”
She waves a finger back and forth between the two of us. “I think you mean we’re stuck. You’re not the only one who lives here.”
My stomach clenches and I give her hand a little squeeze. “I’m sorry, Miranda. I know I put you in a bad situation, too. I promise to make it up to you, okay?”
“Nah, it’s okay. Honestly, why would I be upset? The view is as good coming as it is going. I gave him a spare key. I thought you’d want that, so we don’t have to leave the door open for him. I mean, we have no reason to wait up at night, right?”
I nod. “Thanks.” I keep my voice light, when I ask, “Did he say anything to you?”
“About what?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” Maybe that he liked being here, and it wasn’t about the money, which is crazy. I take a bite of cereal, and milk dribbles down my chin. I’m a little jittery since waking up.
She leans toward me. “You want to know what else I think?”
“No.”
She laughs. “I think Cochrane was an asshole to do this to you.” I’m about to agree when she adds, “And that something good can come from something bad.”
I shake my head. “You sound like a bad country song.”
“Yeah, not at all like the hot noises I heard coming from the bathroom last night.”
My heart jumps. “It’s not like that.”
“The real question is, do you want it to be?”