Reckless (Blue Collar Boyfriends Book 1) by Jessi Gage Page A

bad enough that she didn’t want to talk to him. He was a douche bag.
    He got off the phone with Deidre and stared at his laptop screen until it became apparent he had no idea what to say to Haley to get her to talk to him again. Frustrated with himself, he went through the motions of eating dinner. He opted for canned soup and some pre-cut veggies, hoping to save the steak for Haley. After washing up, he retreated to his basement to the heavy bag he’d bolted to the rafters. He gloved up and punished the bag until his muscles burned and his mind was clear.
    When he came upstairs, the setting sun was casting long shadows across the hardwoods in his living room. On the kitchen table, his laptop taunted him with happy screensaver photos of Haley. He still didn’t know what to say, but he couldn’t let her go to bed thinking he hadn’t even tried.
    Love you, kiddo, he typed. Dinner tomorrow?
    He cracked open a beer and stared at the screen like a hopeful puppy for several minutes.
    Finally, shaking his head in disgust, he scraped his chair back and headed to the bedroom for some clean underwear before he hit the shower. His house was getting dark, so he flipped on the living room and hall lights on the way. The action reminded him of his dream girl’s words to him that morning. I always show up here in your room after dark. And I always stay until five or so.
    He froze with his hand on the knob of his bedroom door. A chill iced his spine. He released the knob and backed away, finding clean underwear and sweats in the laundry room, instead.
    After finishing his beer in the shower, he checked the laptop one last time. Haley hadn’t responded. He cursed himself.
    Why did he have to let his temper get the better of h is judgment? Why did his mouth always spit out whatever thought went through his head when he was angry? He’d grown up with a father who behaved exactly the same way and had promised himself he wouldn’t end up like that, bitter and old with everyone around him running for cover every time he entered a room.
    Hands on his hips, he stood in the living room, staring down the hall at his bedroom door.
    Full dark had fallen. Part of him wanted to open the door and see if his dream girl was waiting for him on the bed. Part of him wanted her to hold him again and tell him he wasn’t a bad guy.
    Another part of him felt sick to his stomach at the thought of a ghost on the other side of that door.
    He dropped to his hands and toes and did his bedtime workout routine right there in the living room. Then, embracing his cowardice, he went to bed on the couch. Haley had picked out a snuggly-soft, navy blue and gold throw that looked great on his leather couch. He wrapped himself in the blanket and rested his head on a fancy pillow with matching colors.
    Before he turned off the lamp on the end table, his gaze fell on the curtains Haley had chosen for his front window. The heavy fabric, gold-colored with rust and navy stripes, looked decadent but still masculine. He didn’t have the imagination to have picked them out for himself, but the colors complemented his latte-colored walls perfectly. He hoped when Haley saw them, she’d like them as much as he did.

Chapter 8
 
    When DG arrived in her usual corner of Derek’s bedroom, it was darker than it had ever been before. The new blinds were closed, and so was the door. All the times she had been here, the door had never been shut. Except this morning wh en he’d fled from something so disconcerting he couldn’t stand to face it: her.
    The only light came from under the door. She heard De rek moving between the kitchen and the living room. The urge to be near him drew her across the room. She grasped the doorknob, knowing it wouldn’t move, but needing to try anyway. Nothing.
    Being separated from him was worse torture than the fog. Not knowing how he felt tonight had her insides in knots.
    Had he made up with Haley? Had he suffered a hangover today? Was he wearing