“Oh, come on, one of ’em had to be right.”
“Not even close. ‘Hit the hay’ means go to bed, wiseass.”
“Least I got the ‘go’ part right,” I mutter.
He folds his arms and cocks his head to the side. “You done?”
“Do you have a charger I can borrow?”
“For heaven’s sake.”
“What? My phone is dead. Since you’re clearly on some warpath to work on the house—and want no one around—I was going to call Rose to pick me up.” I lift my bag off the floor and onto my shoulder. “But if you’re higher on getting me out of there, then let’s—”
Dallas plucks the straps off my shoulder and tosses the bag back down. “What exactly did Rose tell you about me?”
“Nothing,” I snap in defense of my friend. Then sigh. “Enough to know you built this for someone you lost.”
He steps back, running his hand down his face. “Yeah well, pretty much everyone knows that.” His jaw ticks.
I narrow my eyes at him. Surprised at how well I’m reading him. He’s impatient. There’s an urgency here. And I don’t think it’s just me. It’s why he’s here instead of with his daughter after being away for three days. Rose said he only spends the night when he’s working on the house.
“You need to finish it,” I guess.
His eyes snap to me. “Only thing I need right now is for you to stop talkin’.”
I hold his gaze for a moment, wishing I knew how to back down, but I don’t want to. “Why don’t I help you?”
He scowls, glancing at the counters briefly. “And how on earth do you plan to do that? Talkin’ a mile a minute sure as hell ain’t movin’ things along for me.”
I fold my arms. “I mean over this weekend. I can help you. You don’t have to do it all alone.”
He stills and for a second it seems like I’ve cut through that thick layer he keeps around his heart. But then something flickers in his gaze. Raw and heated. Studying me like I’m the one under the microscope.
“Look, I get you either got no place to go, or you’re runnin’ from something.” His voice turns ragged. “But I’m not your guy.”
I swallow the stab against my chest. I’m not hurt by his comment—just offended. I don’t need him as “my guy.” I don’t need this place as my temporary sanctuary. I was only trying to help.
Dumbstruck, my mouth drops before I speak. “I’m not running from anything,” I breathe, wishing it didn’t sound like I’ve been caught.
“No?” He cocks his head with a step forward. I take one back. “Why the hell you taking self-defense classes then?”
My pulse jumps but it’s not because he intimidates me. It’s the heat radiating off him. It sizzles. Before I realize, I’ve moved back enough to hit the back wall that separates the kitchen from the walk-in pantry. “So I could clobber assholes like you for getting in my face.”
He huffs a laugh. “Well, you ain’t gonna do it by clippin’ them in the shoulder and thigh.”
My eyes drop to his crotch. “I won’t miss next time.” I lift my knee but his hand snaps around it, catching me mid-kick.
I lean back against the wall, shoulders falling with a breath. Surprised at how easily I’m surrendering to him. As if realizing I don’t find him threatening, his arms come up on either side of me, caging me in. “What’d he do?” he rasps, sharp and demanding, like he has a desperate need to know.
My breath hitches and my pulse spikes. His body is so solid. Radiating strength. The kind that promises protection.
Warmth spreads below my belly. And if anything is scaring me right now—it’s my reaction to him. I shouldn’t be curious. I shouldn’twantto be pressed up against this wall as long as he’s the one holding me. This is my cue to run.
But why does it feel like a test of everything I’ve convinced myself I never want again?
He leans in, exhaling just enough to make me shiver. His question still lingering between us.
“What’d who do?” I ask.
