Okay. So Trask had no idea what she was talking about.
Things had been fine, then they hadn’t.
“If myheadis so far up my ass,” he growled, “why don’t you try telling me what’s got that big fucking stick up yours?”
She didn’t hesitate.
“You,” she hissed, and he reeled backward a bit.
“Although I’m not sure I want to have this conversation,” she added.
“Then let’s not,” Trask returned, trying to regroup since his anger was being piqued. And no good ever came from discussing issues when both parties were seeing red.
“How about we go home, sleep things off, and approach whatever is eating at you in the morning,” he attempted.
“Seriously?” she asked bitingly, sputtering invectives under her breath. “Do you realize that’salwaysyour response? And do you have any idea how often you invoke it?”
Trask wasn’t sure, so he remained silent, certain he was about to haveallhis shortcomings aired.
Jett erupted. “No answer? Fine. I’ll fill you in. If I look troubled, your answer is sleep it off. If I have a problem, you don’t help me analyze it, you simply tell me that whatever is eating at me will look better in the morning,likeyou just did,” she needlessly pointed out. “In short, Trask, you only seem to want me when I’m perky and sweet, and God forbid, if anything is wrong. I’d better hide it until I eventually deal with it myself.”
Trask blinked. Is that how she saw things? Because…wasn’t shealwaysperky and sweet? When had she ever raised any problems or concerns with him?
Uh…
Well, sure. There was the time a week ago when she’d had a melt-down that the papers had been signed on the house where she’d grown up, but he’d figured she needed space to deal with that one on her own, so he’d backed away.
Then there’d been her misplaced stress over his father taking on the task of clearing the old air-strip. She’d offered to take care of it, but Guy Sothard was the kind of person that if a job needed to be done, he was going to tackle it, head on. Which he’d done. And the end result had been more than satisfactory. A clear runway, and a barn/shed—albeit unheated—where she could get her Cessna out of the elements.
Those problems had really beennon-problems, and he’d felt it wasgoodthat he hadn’t given oxygen to her worries.
So what exactly was Jett’s problem?
“Spit it all out,” he demanded.
Damn.He’d been looking forward to some naked time with her once they got home, hoping to sweet-talk her into getting between his sheets again, but now he knew, for sure, that itwasn’tgoing to happen.
“You want to know what’s been bugging me?” she laughed at him sarcastically. “Are you sure? Wouldn’t you rather give more sage advice tonight about ‘sucking it up’, or ‘putting it in prospective’.”
Trask managed not to wince.Okay. Fine. Thatmightbe how he tended to deal with things that arose, but he didn’t exactly excel at managing personal conflict.
Give him logistics, and he’d ace that shit every time. Ask him for some touchy-feely input, and he…had nothing.
If Jett had a point, however, he was going to make sure she got all his attention, this time.
“I’m listening,” he said gruffly.
Not what she’d expected to hear, for sure.
NowJett looked uncomfortable. She squirmed in her seat until…
“Fine.” She sucked in a deep breath. “What are we, Trask? Where are we going with…this.” She pointed back and forth between them.
Trask spluttered. “What do you mean?” he asked to win himself a few precious seconds to regroup. “We’re…two people who are insanely attracted to each other, and have been acting on it. To ourverymutual enjoyment,” he added pointedly. “Unless I’m mistaken?”
He raised a brow at her, not happy with this conversation at all. She had him instantly on edge.
“Acting on an attraction?” she repeated snarkily, staring at him in the semi-darkness of the cab. “What are we, two rabbits high on pheromones? Riddle me this, Trask. Is any part of you besides your penis vested in our…association?”
