Her throat bobs on a nervous swallow. “Like you used to.”
Those words, loaded with meaning, hang heavily in the air. Her skin warms the palms of my hands still cupping her face. And the fire in her eyes she’s aiming at me? Fuck. The urge to kiss her is almost overwhelming.
“Rowan,” she whispers.
The sound of my name on her lips nearly breaks me. But there’s something I need to do before I can give in.
“We need to talk,” I say, forcing myself to drop my hands. “About everything. About why I left the way I did.”
The heat in the air instantly shifts and cools, breaking the spell. I can almost feel the coldness of the ice in her eyes as she steps away, crossing her arms over her chest again.
“No, we don’t,” she says firmly. “The past is the past. You’re here to make your movie, and then you’ll leave again. Just like you always do.”
Her words cut deep. “It wasn’t like that?—”
“Save it,” she bites out. “I’m not interested in your excuses. Whatever we had—whatever Ithoughtwe had—was over a long time ago.”
Frustration building, I clasp my hands behind my head. It’s the only way I can keep myself from grabbing her and shaking some sense into her. Making her listen to what I have to say.
“Then why are you trying so hard to drive me away? If what we had doesn’t matter anymore, why the attitude any time I’m around you?”
Caught off guard, she blinks.
“Because...” Her eyes glaze over as she struggles to find her words. “Because I don’t want you here. You complicate things.”
“How?” I press. “Come on, Iz. Talk to me.”
twenty-three
“You just do!”I throw my hands up in exasperation.
Rowan is standing so close I can barely keep my head on straight. He smells way too delicious for someone who’s been working on a movie set all day. Not to mention the scraggily beard he’d had is now gone, leaving behind a hint of five o’clock shadow.
The way he’s looking at me, desperation written all over his face, has the impenetrable walls I’ve worked too hard to build, start to crumble.
Deep down, I know I’ve held on to this anger for far too long.
Shoulders sagging, I blow out a breath. “Okay. You win. Let’s talk.”
The look on his face shifts from pained to hopeful as his body visibly relaxes.
“You want a beer?” I ask as I turn away, striding into the kitchen.
“Sure.”
I can feel his gaze burning into my back as I reach into the fridge and pull out two bottles of IPA.
For a moment, I consider the fact that I’m about to sit down and have a somewhat civil conversation with the man who broke my heart more than once. The same man I’ve desperately been trying to hate for years. The one who still makes my pulse race when he looks at me like he did just a minute ago.
Like he’s still doing now.
“Here.” I slide one of the bottles across the counter.
He catches it effortlessly, twisting off the cap. Those hands. God, I remember what those hands can do…
Nope. Slow your roll, babes.
“So...” I take a swig, willing the alcohol to hurry the fuck up and calm the butterflies fluttering in my belly. “Talk.”
