Rhett tackle-hugged her to the ground before she could finish her sentence. Even though he hit first to break the fall, it was disorienting to go from standing up to straddling a hard male body in less than a breath.
“Are you insane!” Her nose pressed into the side of his neck. Up close the notes of wood sap and spice were even headier. She wasn’t sure what made her more outraged, the fact he’d sacked her like a quarterback or the pesky detail that up close and personal he smelled even better. “Let me go.”
“Shhhhh.” He lifted his head and listened intently. “You never know who’s watching,” he muttered. “After all, why settle for a caption contest when there can be documented proof of us together, in your house, after dark?”
She must have hit her head in the fall. That was the only explanation for why she was gripped by a sudden, overwhelming desire to lick his Adam’s apple. “Remind me to make you a tinfoil hat, Mr. Paranoid.”
Using him as a human mattress wasn’t unpleasant, and that was part of the problem. A shiver moved through her. It made her feel strange, and not a little trembly. “The only thing out there is an overgrown rosebush. You’re jumping at shadows.”
“You don’t understand people in this town,” he fired back. “They’re relentless when it comes to gossip.”
“Let me tell you what I understand even less.” Besides the whole urge to lick his neck.
“What?” he asked, dryly.
“You.” She bit the tip of her tongue, because that little word was the equivalent of an iceberg. It didn’t look like much, bobbing there, alone on the surface, but dive below and more met the eye.
He shifted his weight, but that meant his hips rolled over hers, their stomachs pressed together. She wasn’t the only one breathing fast. Her core tensed as a tremble ran through her legs. Hard to say if the realization was comforting or nerve-wracking.
Maybe both.
“This was a mistake, coming.” He stilled, as if registering what he’d done for the first time, his ears deepening to a fiery red. “I should go.”
“Not so fast.” The fact she could make this guy blush would be cute if she wasn’t so furious, with herself, with him, with this whole situation. “You reached out to me, remember? Barged into my house, into my peace and quiet, into my life, into all my thoughts. Do you have any idea how that feels? Freaking confusing.”
He jerked as if struck with an undercut. That gave her the opportunity to roll free, to scramble to her knees, get some much-needed distance. He followed suit.
“You’re the only one confused?” He sat back on his feet, voice taut, almost strangled. “Is that what you think?”
“Let’s review the facts.” Her chest heaved. “First you hand-deliver me rocky road and say you like my smile, then the next day barely look in my direction at the dog park. You found me a job, rescued me from public humiliation, tell me life stories, and stare like you want to eat me, but freak out when we’re spotted in your car. I’m sorry, am I missing something? Your signals are more tangled than a bunch of old Christmas lights.”
“You’re right.” His simple agreement took wind from her indignant sails. “Absolutely right. But understand, this isn’t New York. Small towns are different—”
“Stop. Stop right there.” She held up a hand. “Don’t think for a second that you can mansplain to me about small towns. I grew up in a place with half the population of Everland, actually less. My senior class took their photo on a log. A single log. So I get the dynamics. Everyone knows everything. Yada-yada. But what I don’t know is why you’re so paranoid.”
“Because…” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “If the Back Fence gets wind of us spending time together, then it’s game over. My life would be back in the public eye. I worked damn hard to create an island that’s mine and mine alone. No drama. No gossip. Nothing to see. So do I like you? Yeah. Of course. How could I not? But I don’t want anyone to know.”
She reeled from the impact of his words, trying to absorb the aftershocks. “Wow, you have a way of making a woman feel pretty…pretty bad.” She might have a bruised ego, but she’d never let him know. In fact he should leave, now. Better to cut the string on this strange connection fast, before she got too attached. “You know? You’re right. You should go. Don’t let the door hit you.”
“Wait. Fuck. Pardon my French, but this is coming out all wrong.” He inhaled sharply, raking a hand through his hair, making it stand up even more wildly that before. “I’m not used to talking to women.”
Her brows arched. “No kidding.” Still, her curiosity wasn’t killed, only maimed. How exactly was he going to climb out of this hole?
“Let me try again. I don’t do relationships.”
“O-kay. Glad you dragged me out of bed for that news flash.” Did the Brontë sisters ever have to deal with this shit? Probably. That’s why they were so full of angst.
He gave a one-shoulder shrug, the cords of his neck drawn tight. “I don’t know what I’m doing here.”
“At least that makes two of us.” She crossed her legs, her tone professional, businesslike. “So you are kind of sort of attracted to me. And maybe—hypothetically—I’m kind of sort of attracted to you. Good thing for you my time in Everland has an expiration date. It’s not like I’m staying long enough to feed the gossip mill.”
“Hold that thought.” He walked his fingers over the floor, halting an inch from her leg. “You’re attracted to me?” Stiffness made his voice rigid.
She walked her own fingers toward his, almost but not quite a touch. “I think you’re hypothetically sexy.” Did her tone sound as dry as her mouth felt?
“Here’s an idea.” He nudged his finger on hers. “Say we—and this is purely hypothetical—enjoyed the…ahem…pleasure of each other’s company in the privacy of our homes.”
“Hypothetically, kept it casual and under the radar?” She nudged back. “When I leave, there’s no heartbreak, no drama, and no one is the wiser.”
