Page 83 of Ice Dance Hockey

“I’ve got this,” I promise him.

The grunt-like noise says he’s not happy about me “handling” this, but Rhett is my problem to deal with and believe me I will. Stomping over to his car, still wearing my rain jacket from the hike, I mentally rehearse how I’ll ream him out this time. There are going to be boundaries and rules and he can text me if he’s going to come over.

Oh, wait. Shit. He might have, but I left my phone here. And knowing Rhett, he worried.

Rhett isn’t wearing a rain jacket, and the light rain dampens his silk, short-sleeved button-up. That’s going to be ruined. He looks a little more “him” than he did yesterday, but even with his fancier clothing choices, he’s scruffy. Hasn’t shaved.

And,God, do I want to rub up against that scruff. Fucking damn it. I don’t want to want him, but that doesn’t change that I do.

If the butterflies I got from Scott’s text were small whirlwinds, the ones for Rhett are tornados that almost bowl me over.

“You weren’t answering,” he says like an accusation as his long strides bring him closer to me, his big Rhett energy whipping around him like a hurricane.

My heart beats steadily, hammering against my chest. Blood pounds in my head. “Left my phone at h-home,” I stammer.

“You need to keep it on you.” It’s almost a snarl.

We’re toe-to-toe now. His chest heaves in time with mine, the ferocious energy builds to a crescendo. I lick my lips, forgetting everything I’d planned on saying, and we come together at the same time. He lifts me easily and I wrap my legs around him, cupping his firm jaw, enjoying the scruff. Our lips crash like twin tidal waves and we inhale each other’s scent.

“This doesn’t mean I hate you any less,” I tell him before shoving my tongue down his throat.

“Understood,” he murmurs between kisses.

The gentle rain covers us as he consumes me, and I let him. If only I had the willpower to stop. Something else covers me, the undeniable comfort of safety. It’s incongruous with the other things I feel. I don’t trust him not to bail on me emotionally. I don’t trust him not to choose his father’s ways over me.

Doesn’t safety require some modicum of trust?

It doesn’t make any sense, but I know in my bones that if there’s any place I can shelter, it’s in these arms.

He releases my lips and I gaze into his hazel eyes, doing my best to read him. He’s been suffering.Good.He’s honestly angry with me.Good. He might kill Scott in this mood. Not as good.

“I understand why you were so angry being ignored. If your goal was to give me a taste of my own medicine, mission accomplished. It was awful.”

Sliding down his body, I land on my feet. “I didn’t plan to teach you a lesson. It’s been two hours, Rhett, not a fucking week. I would have answered you once I’d gotten home.”

“Which is why I’m not mad at you, just mad near you. I didn’t like it for two hours, never mind seven days.”

“I won’t do it again, but you’ve got to chill the fuck out.”

“No.”

He’s still got an arm around me. I play with the buttons on his shirt. “You’re such a brute, you know that, right?”

He smirks. “I know.”

In other words, he doesn’t plan on changing. What I see is what I get. And I wouldn’t mind that so much, but he’s not ready for someone like me. I come with baggage and neediness and a big fat “handle with care” label that he’s going to forget about too often.

“Rhett,” I say, taking a deep breath. “I’m going for coffee with Scott.”

His grip on me tightens. “No.”

Without warning, I’m slung over his shoulder like a Costco-sized bag of rice, so I beat on him uselessly. I’m no match for a hockey gorilla. If anyone’s watching from the window, they’re getting a show. “I’m going to murder you, Rhett!”

Dumping me into his car, he shuts the door and locks me in using his key fob. If he thinks I’m going to be a silent abductee, he’s got another thing coming. I’m too turned around to crawl over to the driver’s side until he’s climbing in.

By this point, Mercy’s racing down the drive, but this car isn’t a quarter of a million dollars for nothing and Rhett knows how to drive it. He spins the car around and is away from the house in less than sixty seconds.

I laugh. “Oh, boy. Mercy is going to kill you.”

---