Page 19 of Guarded Hearts

One night about a year ago, they’d shared one too many Manhattans and Layne had shared her story about Carson. Now she had more regrets than the hangover.

Taking a deep breath, she again attempted to step around the very large landmine that was her ex.

“Would you look at that box. Let’s see what’s inside!”

The heavy clomp of boots on the hardwood floor announced that Carson wasn’t just in the house—he was headed this way.

She glanced up at the thunder of a fist knocking that rattled the door in its frame. Without waiting for her to answer, Carson threw open the door.

Outraged, she jumped up.

“We need to talk.”

She felt her molars grate as she mashed them together. “Fine,” she said evenly through her clenched jaw. “Give me five.”

His gray eyes leveled on her for one heartbeat. Then two. By the fifth throb of that stupid organ in her chest cavity, she was losing patience.

As if he realized she was about to flip out, he retreated, closing the door behind him with more softness than she ever thought possible. Because it was so out of character, she had to question why he did it.

And if she should be worried.

Aware once more that Hannah was still on the call, she gulped.

Composed herself.

Spent a moment rearranging her features.

Then slapped a smile on.

“Back to the unboxing. I can’t wait to see what’s inside!”

Her assistant blinked. “That’s Carson? Wow. Does he have a brother?”

“Five of them. But you’re married.”

She waved a hand. “Oh, I’m not interested for myself. I was just asking for…my sister.”

“Right.”

“Can my sister come to Wyoming? I need some papers signed. I was going to send them electronically, but I can send her in my place.”

Layne laughed, and only part of it was forced. “Now’s not the best time.”

The door blew open again, and Carson poked his head in. “Today, Layne.”

She looked at her phone screen in time to see her assistant mouth, “Go!”

Chapter Five

Carson faced Layne. Even having a kitchen island between them wasn’t enough when she wore that flannel shirt. She must have worn that color on purpose. No way had she forgotten that shade of dark green was his favorite color—especially on her.

Her luminous green and gold eyes landed on his, and his balls clenched.

With as much nonchalance as a cat walking away when its owner reached to pet it, she brought a mug of steaming coffee to her lips. He stared at those full lips pursed on the rim.

They’d look better on his cock.

Fuck, he never wanted to be a porcelain mug before now.

---