Page 107 of Unexpected Hero

Manners be damned, I close the door squarely in his face. It’s self-preservation at this point.

Right before the door meets the frame, his hand slips in and blocks it from closing. I look down and his foot is in the way as well.

Oh good gravy!

“Good night, James,” I grit out, fighting back the tears with the strength of a gladiator.

“Lettie, open up for a minute.” Instead of bossy dominance, there’s an unobtrusive tenderness to his tone. “Please.”

My conditioned response of compliance rears its traitorous head again. I roll my shoulders, take two quick breaths, then open the door. “Yes?”

He pokes his head in the crack, taking one step closer so that he’s hovering over the threshold. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Just tired,” I fib, offering a half-truth.

I am tired. But I’m not fine.

He scoffs. “You’re a bad liar.”

Despite the hurricane inside me, the reminder of that drive we took to the beach and the kiss that followed brings a tug to the corner of my mouth. “Thanks again for looking after me. For the food. The loan. Getting me the job. And everything else.” After another deep breath, I make it clear that I’m done talking. “I’ll see you around the club. Good night.”

I step forward, my hand pressing against the door and inching it closed. He relinquishes a step backward, then another. His mouth hangs open like there’s something on the tip of his tongue.

If I hear it, I’ll cry.

Instead of waiting for him to find the words, I gradually close the door. His backward movement keeps pace with the forward motion of the door.

My eyes hold his as the space between the door and jamb narrows to a slit, making my view of him narrow slowly until he’s gone.

“Good night,” he finally whispers at the last second.

And then I close the door on him.

Literally and figuratively.

I rest my forehead on the back of the hard, cold metal and whisper, “Goodbye, James.”

Chapter 20

In the middle of the night

TOMER

As soon as her glassy blue eyes disappear in the crack, I rest my head against the door.

My chest caves in as an undecipherable weight presses against my sternum. I lose track of time while I stand frozen in place.

Her pain — whatever has caused it — has leached into my heart.

I’m not built to experience emotion this profoundly. It’s uncomfortable and foreign. And I’m powerless to break free from her spell.

By some cruel twist of fate, this forbidden, sweet, complicated, hurricane of a woman has penetrated all my defenses, reaching a place so deep inside that she’s become rooted in my soul.

Before her, I never knew I could feel anything beyond surface-level emotions.

Now I wonder if I’ll ever be able to stop feeling this gravely.

It’s hard to breathe.

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