“Yes,” I admit softly, “but it’s been years. Back in high school, I came to exactly one party out here.” The look he shoots at me tells me he is not impressed with this information. I glare at him because I’ll be damned if I’m going to be shamed about something that happened so long ago that it hardly matters. “I’ve also hiked some of the trials around here, and there’s at least one which gets pretty close to the Old Mill.”
The grunt he lets out holds zero amusement. I look at the man in front of me and my heart clenches. He’s mad and it’s not like I don’t get it, but I’m not sure I’ve earned this much anger.
“Look,” my voice goes hard, “I wasn’t sure if this was the place they were talking about and before I got anyone involved and wasted anyone’s time, especially since this is another county, I figured checking it out first was the right move.”
“The right move?”
I huff out a breath and fire back at him, “Are you just going to keep repeating my last few words back to me?”
He tries to fight against it, but I catch the way one side of his mouth twitches. Still, the anger is there and is now making the air in the cab of his truck even thicker. The tension has me wanting to squirm, but I manage to keep myself still.
“Do you have any idea the kind of danger you just put yourself in?” His words are low and bordering on lethal. He studies my face closely as if he’s looking for any sign of regret or remorse.
Was I questioning mylife choices while I was out there? Yes, and not just this one. Am I going to admit that to him? Probably fucking not.
I’m not sure what Rhodes sees written all over my face, but it makes his jaw clench to the point that I’m a little concerned for his molars. You can’t really grind teeth to dust, right? That’s just an expression?
“You should have called Sheriff Lyons and told him what you overheard,” his words are husky, but with anger and not desire.
I rear back from him like he’s just slapped me. Should I have called Sheriff Lyons? Oh, that’s right because I couldn’t call him because even though I gave him my number, he still hasn’t reached out.
My gut twists and my own anger—along with feelings of rejection I’m not going to examine now or possibly ever—bubbles up in my chest.
I bite out each word, “I should have called Sheriff Lyons?”
Something must click in his mind because his face softens slightly. Not completely, but just enough. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he rushes out.
“Okay,” I deadpan.
I’m over this conversation. Completely fucking over it.
Honestly, I would hop out of the truck right now, but I’m not entirely sure where my car is from here and I’m no longer interested in traipsing around trying to find it. At least not right now and certainly not alone.
“I should have never come out here,” I murmur without even realizing it as I rub a hand over my face and try to get my shit together.
“You’re right,” Rhodes’s voice is hard, “you shouldn’t have. This is dangerous. You’re not trained to deal with whatever you might have found. What was your plan if this place was being used for criminal activity?”
Fuck.
I try to hold onto my anger, but the pain in his grey eyes pulls me up short.
“I don’t know,” I grit out through my teeth, unwilling to show any weakness.
“You don’t know?” He shakes his head and the disappointment on his face makes me feel like crap, while also pissing me off.
“No,” the single word comes out clipped.
“You can’t do shit like this,” he starts to rant. “You can’t just put yourself in danger without a single care. You didn’t even have a plan.”
He’s seething to the point that I’m a little concerned. Not for myself, but for him.
Before I can stop myself, before I can even think it through, I’ve cupped his face in my hands and pressed my lips against his.
Everything freezes.
His anger.
Time.
