The Science of Loving (37 page)

I took this as my sign to call it a day. Now, if I could just make it through another night. Nights were the hardest. There were no distractions, nothing but me and my lonely thoughts. My inner skank was still sulking, pissed-off at never getting a chance to play with Mat’s toolbox while Nympho Girl obsessed on its contents in some pretty weird dreams.

I shut down the computer, and took my time locking up. After a final tug on the door, I trudged down the stairs to the parking lot—w
ell, that’s just great.

I had a flat. Dumping my stuff in the back seat, I popped open the trunk, dragged out the spare tire then pulled out the scissor jack and tire iron hidden underneath. I left the spare leaning against the back bumper because some asshole decided to park their van right on the line next to my car
—why were they even here this late
—I knelt down, tiny bits of debris digging into my knees as I positioned the jack under the car’s frame.

Ow! Shit.
The van’s side mirror glanced top of my head when I stood back up. Cursing the shadows and asshole van drivers that didn’t know how to park, I went to work breaking loose the lug nuts.

An arm wrapped around my neck, and the tire iron clanged dully on the pavement, rolling a few inches when I released it to claw instinctively at the hand clamped over my mouth, shredding its latex covering. My head connected with a chin, eliciting a curse behind me. Then I put my foot against my car and shoved hard. He stumbled, banging into the same mirror I’d cursed earlier. As soon as his grip loosened, I dropped, my dead weight driving us both to the ground. As I groped around on my hands and knees trying to scramble away, he grabbed at my shirt pulling me back, both of us grunting and panting.

When my fingers stumbled across the tire iron, I scrabbled my nails on the asphalt to get a hold of it, but I couldn't raise it. My hands were braced to prevent my face from getting slammed into the pavement as he rode my back. My knuckles were on fire, scraped raw as I clutched the metal bar. I bucked. Trying to throw him off, driving his head into the mustang’s rear fender. His hand left my mouth and I started screaming at the top of my lungs. Cursing some more, he clamped it back over my nose and mouth so tightly that I couldn't breathe. As he hauled me to my feet, I brought the iron over my head, the wild swing landing with a satisfying thunk, and his hand left my mouth. I gulped down burning lungfuls of air as he tried to fend off a frenzy of awkward over the shoulder blows, none of them landing with any kind of force.

The iron was jerked from my grip, and somehow broke the van’s window, setting off its alarm. Cursing, he shoved me away, stumbled then took off running as I sank the ground, shaking, my sides heaving while the van continued to honk indignantly. I don’t know if it was seconds or minutes later when a campus police car pulled into the lot.

“Ma’am, are you all right? Ma’am?”

My throat felt raw and I had to clear it before I could speak. “No… yes… I was attacked… I had a flat tire… A man grabbed me… I was attacked…”

“Ma’am are you injured?”

“Injured? No I don’t think so… He ran away when the car alarm went off.”

Soon more police cars arrived, bathing the parking lot with flashing blue lights. I was sitting in one of the patrol cars wrapped in a blanket, hugging my briefcase when Daddy pulled into the parking lot. He must’ve called Mat, because not two minutes later, his car whipped in as well.

When an officer checked Daddy’s progress, I went to him, taking comfort in his arms. “Hey Daddy.” I nodded at Mat forcing words around the lump growing in my abused throat. “You didn’t need to come. I’m all right. He ran off before any real damage was done.”

“Fuck Angie. You think I’d stay away after something like this? Look, I’ve tried to be patient, let you work through whatever shit you got rattling around under all those curls of yours… but shit… I’m done.”

He went blurry as my eyes filled up. God, this was really it. He was done with me. I knew I’d already decided to break it off, but hearing him say it, made it suddenly irrevocable; killing that small part of me that was still in denial. My knees gave out. I clung to Daddy, falling apart as the adrenalin carrying me to this point evaporated. Then I was in Mat’s arms, cradled against his chest. It was a hard comfort, and just for the moment, I gave into temptation, burying my nose in his shirt. God I missed this. But I couldn’t smell him because I was stuffy from crying, which added to my sadness, and I cried even harder. Yeah, I was a train wreck.

“You’re coming with me.” Oh no.

“No, I want to go home. Daddy they’re impounding my car. The guy may have left finger prints.”

“Sorry baby girl, no can do. Mat’s right. You’ll be safer with him.”

“What? No, I can’t.” No, no. There was no way I could handle that.

“Until they catch this guy, you’re staying with Mat and he’ll accompany you everywhere. That includes meetings with your mother; she made this his business when she decided to ambush you with his ex-employee. This is not open for discussion. I want you safe.”

“And when I go to work? Is Mat going to hang out at the lab?”

“You can miss a few days of work. With the hours you’ve been putting, I’m sure you’re ahead of schedule.”

“What about my research? Not to mention my boss?”

“Bob will want you safe.”

“Excuse me? Dr. Martin? We’re ready to take your statement if you’re up to it.” So for the next half hour I answered questions under the watchful gaze of the two most over protective men in my life.

Angie glared at the dark outside the living room window. Thank God, she was okay; I’d almost died when Jack called. When I saw her limping across the parking, I’d decided she was moving in with me whether she liked it or not—not, if her current mood was any indication.

She stiffened when I wrapped my arms around her. “Relax sweetheart. Let me take care of you.”

“I don’t want to be taken care of.” God, even sulking, she was cute
—oh sweetness, have I got a cure for that.

“Sorry babe, I have to,” I murmured in her ear. “Right now you’re tired and sore, and I’m going to take care of you. But we still have unfinished business. So later, we’ll be sorting our shit out.”

“Please Mat, don’t do this, I just want to go home.”

I dropped my voice. “We both know that’s not what you want.” When she went soft in my arms, I knew I'd hit the right tone. “You really are an awful liar.” Tears welled in her eyes.
Fuck.
“Aw baby, it’s going to be all right.” I sat down on the sofa, settling her in my lap, tucked under my chin. I didn't think she realized how tightly she clung to me.

When I was sure the water works were over, at least for the moment, I fetched some snacks, a couple bottles of water and a fifth of Jamesons.

“Now, you’re going to eat something,” I poured some shots. “Do some shots and have a tryst with my fancy bath. It’s been missing you.”

She smiled weakly. “You calling me a bath slut?”

“I would never call you a slut to your face.” I handed her a shot. “Cheers.” Half an hour and four shots later, the food was gone, her eyes were glassy, and the rosy glow was back in her cheeks. “Come on sweetness, the bath awaits. Let’s soak out some of that soreness.”

“Arms up.” I stripped off her torn shirt. I didn’t know if it was the whiskey or her exhaustion rendering her docile, but I was making the most of it
—where in the hell did she buy her underwear—
her bra was a pearly pink whisper, her nipples barely discernible behind the sheering. When I finally found the strength to look away, I saw bruises beginning to darken her fair skin. If they caught this asshole, they’d better keep him locked up; otherwise, I'd hunt the fucker down. I got her settled in the tub and turned to leave.

“You’re not joining me?”

“I’d love to join you babe, if that’s what you want.” she nodded shyly, suddenly fascinated with the water surrounding her—
aw sweetheart
—I didn’t wait to be told twice; she might come to her senses. I shuddered thinking how close I’d come to losing her.

She pushed at me. “Mat… Mat… Can’t breathe…”
Oops
.

I eased up. “Sorry baby, but you gave me such a scare. I almost lost you. If you hadn’t fought… God baby, I’m so proud of you.”

“Yeah, I kinda amazed myself.” She smiled self-consciously. “Normally, when I get scared, I freeze.”

“Apparently, not if there’s a tool within reach, then you’re a super hero: By day, a mild mannered scientist; by night, a wrench wielding warrior woman.”

“‘Wrench wielding warrior woman?’ Alliteration much?”

“It’s a common literary device in comics. I think I read somewhere Stan Lee started it to make his characters names more memorable: The Green Goblin, Bruce Banner, Doctor Doom, Pepper Potts.”

“I’ve never given it much thought, but I haven’t read a lot of comics.”

“Then you’ve missed out. Daredevil’s cool, and not just because he’s also named Mat. He was Mat Murdock before he was blinded by radioactive gunk, and his girl Electra was hot—psychotic, but hot. So about you, what did you read growing up?”

“Popular Mechanics, Scientific America, that sort of thing.”
Well, no surprise there.

“Now that’s just wrong. For someone so well read, your education has been sorely neglected, but not to worry warrior woman.” She rolled her eyes at my continued alliteration. “It’s an oversight, easily remedied. I’m taking you to Comic-con next year.”

“Oh no, I wouldn’t go near that insanity. Besides it’s probably sold out.”

“I’ve got connections—save it,” I said, when she took a breath, “my mind is set.”

Then to ensure her silence I kissed her thoroughly because it was hard to argue when someone else's tongue was in your mouth. When we finally pulled apart, her eyes were satisfyingly glazed, both of us were breathing faster. And it was time to get out because a certain part of my anatomy was perking up.

“Come on sweetheart, it’s late.”

Angie smiled when I shared my Tabasco Hot Stuff pajamas, handing her the top half along and a pair of boxers before pulling on the matching lounge pants. I patted the space next to me on the bed, waiting while she hemmed and hawed. “Angelina, don’t make me come get you. You’re exhausted and sore, so I’m just going to hold you while you sleep. Now. Come. Here.”

She meekly came to bed, lying stiffly as I spooned behind her. After a while the tension slowly drained from her, and I smiled at her cute little snores
—oh sweetness, we’re not done with each other, not by a far sight.

It was too hot. I squirmed under a ton of warm skin and hard muscle. Oh God, I was in bed with Mat. I breathed a sigh of relief when he rolled over and continued napping as I snuck out of bed. I ached all over. My throat felt like I’d swallowed sand, and a sour paste coated my tongue. My knuckles burned as I gripped Mat’s toothbrush. I looked up and froze—
shit, no wonder the guys were freaking out—
I’d been too overwhelmed last night to notice the impressive array of bruises littering my arms, neck and face.

After de-burring my tongue, I stood in the great-room staring gloomily through the window waiting for the coffee to finish brewing. The morning sun was way too cheerful for my mood. I’d spent another night in Mat’s bed. At least we didn’t have sex this time. He might be able to do the friends thing, but I didn't think I could maintain that kind of emotional distance.

“Oh jeez.” Two brightly colored pythons dropped around me, constricting to circumvent my attempt to put some distance between us.

“Sorry sweetheart, I didn’t mean to startle you.” His chest rumbled pleasantly against my back as his whiskers caught in my hair. “How are you feeling?”

“Okay, a little sore, but that’s to be expected. I made coffee,” I said, using bribery to extricate myself. I fled to the relative safety of the kitchen while he paced after me.

He took the cup of black coffee I shoved at him and deliberately set it on the counter. I felt his eyes on me as I silently fixed my own cup. When I finished, he took it from me, and set it next to his.