Page 68 of Hard Rock Heat

She nodded and went back to corralling the kids, not noticing anything different between the two ofus.

But everything was differentnow.

Damon took my arm gently. I couldn't make myself pullaway.

"Can we go somewhere and talk?" heasked.

I examined him. I wanted to get away. I wanted space tothink.

But I'd had space over the last few days and I hadn't decided on anything. Maybe I didn't needspace.

Maybe all I needed wasDamon.

I noddedshakily.

"Okay. Let's gotalk."

I followed him silently out of the Youth Center and into his car. I slid into the passenger seat before he could dart over and open the door forme.

I did my usual deep-inhale-and-sniff routine, taking in the raw, leather scent. Damon swung one leg into the car just as I let out a deep breath. He eyed me, but didn't sayanything.

We were silent for long minutes as we drove. Damon kept flicking his eyes between me and theroad.

"Where are we going?" I finallyasked.

"Nowhere," he replied. "I just want someprivacy."

"I suppose we can't really talk in a crowded coffee shop," I murmured, looking out thewindow.

"Am I right in thinking you got freaked out and were ready to run?" heasked.

I opened my mouth to deny, then thought better of it. "I wasn't planning on running. Ijust…"

"Needed some space?" heguessed.

"Kindof."

"Can I ask what happened?" he said after a moments hesitation. "Everything seemed to be goingfine."

Oh nothing,I thought to myself.I just realized I've fallen in love with a womanizing rock star who never takes anything seriously and wouldn't know a real relationship if he were hit over the head with one. Nothing to worryabout.

I fiddled with my phone in my hand. A phone that contained dozens of dirty text messages, all fromDamon.

"Whenever you get upset it's usually because I've done something to piss you off," he continued. "And I'm trying, but I really can't think of anything I've done wrongtoday."

"It's nothing you did wrong," Isaid.

"Are you still worried about—" He ran one hand through his hair, tugging at the strands on the back of his neck with asigh.

"I'm not still thinking about your and your dad, if that's what you're worried about," Isaid.

"I feel like I really fucked up," he saidquietly.

"Youdidn't."

"I'm not some kind of violent, aggressivemonster."

"I know," Ireassured.