“What are you doing?” he asked again.
She didn’t bother to turn around, but she felt him take a couple of steps forward. Heat from his big body radiated off him in waves, causing her to practically sway where she stood. He smelled faintly of sweat, but it wasn’t off-putting. She knew he was going to look goddamn irresistible all jacked up with ripped muscles and glistening sweat, so she resisted the urge to look at him.
He was beside her now, and his big hand fell to hers, halting her efforts of packing up a pair of jeans. “What. Are. You. Doing?”
She pulled her hand from his and resumed her task. “I’m packing.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m going home.”
He grabbed her hands again and tugged, forcing her to pull her gaze from her suitcase and finally take in his face. Confusion streaked across it. “This is your home.”
She shook her head. “I can’t live with someone I don’t know.”
“You know me.”
She shook her head again. Her throat burned and ached from how hard she was trying not to cry. Fucking hormones. “I don’t know you. I ask you about yourself all the time, but you only give me the bare minimum. I’m living with a closed book with glued pages. I can’t do it anymore.”
She pulled her hands from him and turned back to her suitcase. She folded up a shirt and placed it inside. He pulled it out and put it on the bed. She put in a sweater. He pulled it out, along with a pair of jeans, a tunic and three pairs of socks.
She let out an exasperated huff and turned to face him. “This isn’t funny.”
His face was stern. “I agree.”
“Then let me pack in peace, please.”
“You’re not leaving.”
Anger raced through her. She’d also had enough of the bossy fucker telling her what do to. She could bloody well leave if she wanted to. Her mouth pinched into a scowl, and she glowered at him. “Don’t you dare tell me what to do.”
He grabbed the suitcase and dumped everything onto the bed. “You’re notfuckingleaving.”
Resisting the urge to haul off and deck him, she planted her hands on her hips. “I can’t figure you out! One minute you’re chatty and funny and sweet, and then the next minute, you’re throwing up walls and putting on a mask. I can’t do it. I can’t live and raise a baby with Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hides-his-Emotions.”
He swallowed.
“You need to talk to me.”
His eyes fell to his feet. “I’m trying.”
She shook her head. “Not hard enough, Hart. Because when I see that you’re trying and thank you for opening up, it’s like one step forward and ten steps back. The moment I acknowledge your efforts, you shut down and pull away. What the fuck?”
The muscle along his jaw jiggled as he ground his molars together. “You were right, you know.”
She let out a huff of impatience. “Not very often that I’m not, but go on.”
His lips twitched, but he didn’t smile. “What you said to me in the truck, on the way to your Christmas party. About me wanting people to think I’m big and scary. You were right.”
“Of course I was right. But you don’t scare me, you just irritate the crap out of me.”
A snort rumbled through his nose, and a smile threatened again butultimately failed. “I’m a different person when I’m with you,” he started. “I don’t recognize myself.” He scratched the back of his neck, and his eyes finally met hers. “I’m happy when I’m around you.”
“And is that a bad thing?”
“It … it’s a strange thing. A foreign thing.”
She nodded slowly.
