Free The Harder They Fall by Jill Shalvis Page A

temper had been stirred. “I have a duty.”
    “Your duty has been completed. The fact that I’m rotten to the core—”
    Uncle Victor swore colorfully. “Don’t you put words in my mouth. I just don’t approve of what you do for a living.”
    “So I’ve thrown my life away; it isn’t your fault,” she said dryly.
    Hunter rose lithely from the floor. He stepped closer to her, his expression carefully blank. Horrified at what he was hearing, Trisha turned away and struggled to watch her words. She moved as far from him as the phone cord would allow.
    The leather of Hunter’s tool belt creaked, warning her of his movements as he came close enough for her to feel his body heat seep into her back. “Was there something you wanted, Uncle Victor?” she asked quickly. “I’m really quite busy.”
    “Just wanted to talk to my niece,” he grumbled. “Not like you ever call me.”
    Guilt lanced through her, which was exactly what he’d intended. Still, she felt like a jerk. “I’m sorry,” she said sincerely, dropping her forehead to the wall. “I should call you more often.”
    “It’d be nice. Instead, you’re too busy selling unmentionables to strangers. I can’t even tell anyone what you do for a living, girl. Good Lord, if I did, they’d all be beating down your door, thinking you were easy.”
    A career in the army hadn’t softened his manners any. Gruff as they came, and stubborn as a mule once he got a thought into his head. “I’m not easy,” she said through clenched teeth.
    From behind her, Hunter’s big, warm, callused hand settled on her shoulder, making her bite her tongue. Gently but firmly, he turned her to face him, ducking his head to see her face. She stared at his shoulders, fascinated with how the width of them seemed to surround her.
    He lifted her chin, the sparks of anger in his eyes startling her. “Hang up,” he mouthed.
    “Just remember your upbringing, girl,” Uncle Victor said in her ear. “Your aunt Hilda and I worked hard to teach you straight.”
    “Yes, Uncle,” she said dully, her heart thumping in response to Hunter’s touch, to his nearness. To the empathy he showed. “You did your best.”
    Hunter reached for the phone, looking determined.
    “You can say that again,” Uncle Victor said with a snort. “When I think of all we gave up to raise you after your parents died—”
    “I know. I’m sorry, I’ve got to go.” But she stood there, locked in miserable memories until she felt a gentle tug on the phone.
    Hunter took it from her and set it quietly in its cradle. His expression could no longer be read, but she had no trouble sensing the sudden tension and anger. For some reason, that made her want to cry. “Well, that was fun,” she said, striving for humor and falling flat.
    He seemed to understand her need to keep things light. “Isn’t family something?” he asked quietly, still standing close.
    “Oh, my family is something, all right,” she said, turning away. It didn’t matter what he thought, she told herself. It just didn’t matter.
    The hand he had left on her shoulder tightened as he gently turned her back to face him. “He was rude to you.”
    “Isn’t that the definition of family?”
    “Why do you put up with it?” he asked, his tone suddenly curt, very controlled.
    So this was what the space scientist looked like angry. Shakily, she released her breath. He was full of this rage, for her . The burst of emotion that realization caused made her legs rubbery. “I guess your family does things different.”
    “Not much,” he muttered. “But I don’t let mine get to me.”
    What he didn’t say spoke volumes, and she knew without being told that his family hurt him as much as hers hurt her. “Well, what’s family for if not to constantly remind you of every fault and failing?” she quipped.
    “It’s wrong.”
    “Doesn’t your family ever get the best of you?”
    “We’re not talking about me.” His voice softened.