“I can wait.” The way he said it was patient and surprisingly not annoyedwith my angry blowoff… It had me questioning things. Like maybe I should hear him out.
But I didn’t want to. So there.
I took my time putting the paintbrushes away and cleaning paint stations, but he was still there. Sitting on the couch at the back, knotting and unknotting a macrame string he must have found on the floor or something. It had me wondering what else he could do with rope.
No. None of that.
I finished throwing away the last station’s dirty paper towels when he must have gotten tired of waiting.
“So, we’re just not gonna talk about it then?”
I threw a towel in the trash, but it took its time on the way down. When I gazed at him, he had an expression I couldn’t read. Was he annoyed or was he determined? Confused?
“What is there to say, Jack?”
“I’d start with, I’m sorry.”
I lifted my chin and glared at him, ripping the mason jar of paintbrushes off the desk at the front and making a beeline for the storage closet. He followed me. Of course.
“If you think I’m going to grovel when I had no idea she was your?—”
Jack crowded me, and the already small closet shrank down to nothing. My eyes went wide, and he took a step toward the side, presumably so he wasn’t blocking me in.
“This is a sacred space. You’re not a crafter. You can’t be in here.” My voice sounded small as I whispered for no reason.
“The storage closet?” His cocky grin came out. I both hated and loved that grin. “We’re going to get nowhere if you overreact to everything I say without letting me finish.”
The absolute gall of this man. Was steam coming out of my ears? I wouldn’t be surprised. “You might as well tell me to calm down.”
He shook his head. “I may be an idiot, but I’m not stupid.”
Was he being self-deprecating now? I wasn’t falling for it. “Those both mean the same thing.”
He took a step toward me. “No. They don’t.”
And just like in most of our interactions, I didn’t back down. No, I stepped closer. “You’re right about being an idiot.”
Jack’s eyes flared. “Do you ever let other people say what they need to say?”
“Do you ever stop pissing me off?” I struggled to think with his breath hot on my face. Had this room gone up twenty degrees? Was this a sauna now? That would surely destroy the crafting supplies.
He was amping up. “That sounds like a you problem.”
“You’re the only problem I have.” I poked him in the chest. “And you’re?—”
Jack grabbed my hand and pulled me to him so we were chest to chest. He wrapped his hand loosely around my throat, usinghis thumb to tip my chin up, and before I could analyze how dangerous it was for the two of us to be this close, his mouth crashed onto mine.
Jack did a lot of things to clear my brain of thoughts. He angered me. He frustrated me. But when he kissed me, every logical move I could make went out of my head.
This kiss was different from our mud-slicked make-out. That was indulgent and satisfying. This was frantic. It was fireworks going off where they didn’t belong. Zipping and blowing up, incendiary and alarming.
He backed me against a wall of shelves, and the sound of a clay pot breaking as it hit the ground should have pulled me away from him, but I didn’t care. I was too busy wrapping my arms around his neck as he ran his hands up my sides.
When we came apart, we were both panting messes. Strands of my hair had fallen out of my braid, dangling in my eyes, and Jack’s lips looked swollen and redder than normal. I fanned my face and instantly regretted it.
“You hot and bothered for me, princess?”
My gaze followed the back of his hand down my shoulder to the tips of my fingers. Before that, I didn’t know goose bumps could hurt.
