“Should I have let you pass out?” His voice was sharp, but beneath it was that edge of concern he couldn’t quite hide.
“You could’ve let Garrett or whatever his name is figure it out,” I pointed out, crossing my arms. “Or, you know, I could have gotten my bag myself.”
“Garrett wouldn’t have punched someone in the face for you,” he said, too casually, as if it didn’t send a shiver down my spine.
“You… remember?” I asked.
His eyes flickered to mine. “How could I not?”
My heart tripped. I hated that it did. I hated how easily he could do that to me.
“Mr. Easton, we need you back over here!” Someone shouted from the bathroom, followed by a loud crash.
He cursed under his breath. “Fuck. This is not over.Stay here.” He pointed at me, commanding and bossing me around again.
“Sure,” I muttered, rolling my eyes with every ounce of defiance I could gather. We both knew damn well I wasn’t going to listen.
But he remembered.
Of course he did. A man like that probably remembers every woman he crosses paths with, not because they meant anything, but so he knows whonotto sleep with again. Cold. Calculated. Typical. Who the hell was I kidding? He didn’t care about me.
I set my stuff down slowly, feeling the tug of frustration and something else I didn’t want to name twisting in my gut. My legs were a little steadier now as I stood from the chair, and my phone buzzed against my thigh. Pulling it out, it was telling me that my blood sugar was normal. Of course the one day I forget to eat is the dayConnor-freaking-Eastonreappears like a glitch in my system.
I drank the last of my water, wiped the sweat from my temple, and tossed my bottle and wrappers in the trash. I was halfway through the salad when I heard a grunt in front of me.
That sound. Familiar. Low. Dangerous.
Fuck.
I froze, napkin still in hand, my heart climbing its way up my throat. Slowly, like I had all the time in the world, I wiped my mouth and lifted my gaze.
And there he was. Again. Those stormy eyes. That expression that saw right through me. Like heknew.
I knew I was blushing. I couldn’t decide if it was because this man just saw me shoving food into my face or if it was because it was Connor fucking Easton. This was far from the first time I’d caught myself flustered in his presence. But it still felt like my stomach did a little flip whenever he looked at me like that.
“Do you feel better?” he asked.
“Yes. Thanks,” I muttered.
“You should go home.”
“I have a couple of things to look at before I leave.” I huffed, not ready to admit how much I just wanted to run away and hide from embarrassment.
“So much attitude in such a small body,” he smirked.
“What?” I blinked.
“Nothing.” He waved a hand dismissively.
And like that, he was walking away, back to his usual silent, brooding self. It was like a switch flipped, and all of a sudden we were back to the same place we started at. He’d go cold, and I’d let the silence suffocate whatever connection we had.
Trying to push that thought out of my head, I collected my contract and made my way around the house, making sure everything was in order. The deadline was coming up, but I had to admit Connor ran a hell of a company. His people workedtogether flawlessly, and if things kept going this smoothly, we could finish the project ahead of time. It was impressive.
I checked off the last of my tasks and grabbed my things, heading toward my car. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, my gaze lifting to the sky. The warmth of the sun felt like a gift after what had felt like a never-ending winter. The weather had been cold for too long, and one warm day was all it took to make me fantasize about being on a beach somewhere with a margarita in hand.
Then, of course, Connor’s voice broke through my thoughts. “Tell me what you’re thinking right now.”
I turned to find him standing there, watching me intently. “You hardly talk to me for weeks, and now you want to have a conversation?” I couldn’t help the sarcasm in my voice or the way my heart was beating faster at the thought of him being this close again.
