“And?” She leads me on the stone pathway that wraps around the side of the detached garage. She’s walking me out, just like she said, and hiding me while she does it.
I don’t respond right away because I can’t get my thoughts straight, but when we’re nearly to the front yard and the guests have disappeared from view, I stop. “I found him when I got here and introduced myself.”
Her features sharpen with a blend of panic and outrage. “Why the hell would you do that?” She shakes her head and twists to see if we have any onlookers before she gets all fiery on me. “Tell me what’s going on. Why would you even think it was okay to come here? Is my family in danger?”
I drop her hand and scrub mine over my forehead. “That’s what you meant when you asked if I was okay. Fuck, I …” Realizing I misread things and seeing the pieces click together, I throw my arm back toward our conversation with Hunter. “He’s why you hate me.”
“What?” she wheezes, obviously exhausted by this day already and not following my meltdown.
It never made sense. I’d shown up within minutes of her call. I took care of her. I handled everything. She was so strong that night but also so fragile. And for the few minutes that she looked at me like I was her hero, something tightened in my chest. All I wanted was to hold her, which felt so out of place for me and so right at the same time. But then she shut down, turning as cold as the Arctic, and I was too busy cleaning up the mess to dissect what had changed.
I get it now though. Nothing I did mattered because by protecting her, I ripped her away fromhim.
What if this is like a Mercy and Ryker thing? No one ever stood a chance with either of them. Decades of friendship meant to be more.
That would be my luck. I’ve never been interested in anything outside a one-night stand with a woman. And now I’m desperate to grasp something that’s destined to crash and burn, and I haven’t even fucking touched her. It’s like watching my house go up in flames all over again.
Melted vinyl and a singing knife.
Jesus, I’m spiraling.
No. Fuck that. I didn’t imagine this.
I step into her, and she steps back. We continue that dance until she’s flattened against the side of the garage, my arms bracketing her head.
“He broke up with you because I’d made you come back to work.”
Her brows knit together. “Yeah, but … Maddox, this isn’t the time or pla—”
“Did you love him?” The question singes my throat with a fear that tastes like acid. “Do you love him now?”
Those turquoise beauties ping-pong between mine as she worries her lip. “Why does it matter?”
How can she not see how fucked up I am over her?
“You already know why, Tess. Answer the goddamn question.”
She hesitates, glancing back toward the racket of the party to see if anyone has wandered over this way, and while I’m not sure what the answer about Hunter will be, it’s damn clear that she doesn’t want me anywhere near her family.
A harpoon of pain slices into my sternum. Fuck knows why that spears me. I’ve never cared about belonging anywhere other than La Lune Noire. I’ve certainly never needed anyone’s approval. I should get the hell out of here before she decimates me. There are so many reasons this doesn’t make sense. She’s an employee. She’s hated me for years. We’re knee deep in a scandal that might get us both killed. I should keep my distance. Protect her from afar.
But I can’t convince myself to walk away.
She’ll have to say it.
I weave my fingers into her hair, my thumb sweeping over the apple of her cheek, drawing her attention back to me. “You’ll never be able to admit you want this … me, right?” Tilting my face so my lips are hovering less than an inch from hers, I rasp my demand. “Tell me to go.”
Maybe it’s less of a demand and more of a plea. One that might kill me if she fulfills it. Or obliterate me if she doesn’t.
Her lips part as she gathers her words. “That’s not why I …”
Whatever she was trying to say dies on her tongue. Her gaze drops to my mouth, her chest heaves against mine, and she works through an arduous swallow.
Time stills.
Our hearts drum in tandem. Our breaths mingle to one, so I can already taste the toxic sweetness that will surge through me like a drug. One sampling, and she’ll wreck me. I’m already a hopeless addict.
The humidity grows downright oppressive, the clammy air crackling with intensity and static. With things we’ve ignored for far too long. It thickens with every beat. Until all I can inhale is piña colada, Caribbean blues, and forbidden longings. Maybe I should give her a second to figure things out, but I’m an impatient man.
