Page 11 of The Alpha's Forced Rejected Mate

My eyes rolled. “If you’re trying to scare me, it won’t work.”

Shuffling sounded from the place I stared at. Sneakers squeaked. I poked my head out while crossing my arms over my chest like some kind of annoyed pigeon. “I can see you, dumb ass.”

“That’s a foul thing to say to an old friend.”

Every inch of me prickled with a familiar irritation. Hell froze over then, the slick wind making my skin feel thick with a biting chill that made me realize I had forgotten my jacket.

I knew that voice.

Idreadedthat voice.

I gulped. “Cliff?”

Three years of fooling around had done that man better than a spa weekend could do for me. My Goddess, there was no way I had ever slept with this hunk without having a few drinks for confidence first. It was the sly smile, the can-do expression, the smooth operation of his stepping into the light. It was the way he tilted his head so I could see the five o’clock scruff on his face, the pronounced Adam’s apple, and the undone buttons of his plaid shirt beneath his overalls. It was that tuft of dirty blond hair poking out from his shirt, the greased buttons, and the casual coolness of his hands in his pockets like he was just hanging out on the corner and happened to see me walking by.

“Hi, Robby,” he said with a rasp in his voice. He cleared his throat and raised his eyebrows at the door to my left. “Invite me in? Kind of hard to get reacquainted in the yard with nosy neighbors.”

“You left me—”

He pulled his hands from his pockets, showing me his empty palms. “Hey, let’s talk it through—”

“Youleftme—”

“I completed my contract. The job was complete.”

My fists ached as I squeezed them at my sides; I shoved my heels into the porch as I stiffened harder than a puppet with freshly glued limbs. “You didn’t say a word.”

“I didn’t want to worry you.”

“About what?”

He lowered his hands as he approached the porch. “Can we go inside, Robby?”

“You don’t get to call me that after youleft mehigh and dry without an explanation. And then—” I pointed inside, my body crystallizing with shock as I realized what I was pointing out—or ratherwhomI was pointing at. I swallowed my anger and dropped my hand. “Sydney, go back to bed.”

Cliff raised his eyebrows again as he stepped onto the porch. “Who’s Sydney?” His features darkened as his upper lip twitched. Shadows deepened over his eyes as he bowed his head to look down at me. “Is some guy here?”

My anxiety dissipated as annoyance slid into place. “No, Sydney is my daughter, you idiot. Will you just sit down and be quiet?”

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

“Don’t show up on my porch after three years of radio silence!”

Across the street, the porch light flipped on. The door started moving, and then I heard the unforgivingsquealof the mesh door as Mrs. Phillips stuck her pug-like mug out to inspect the noise. I grabbed Cliff by the front of his overalls and hauled his boot-wearing ass into the house, where I shut the door and bolted it. I peeked through the peephole. I checked the curtains.

Then I turned to the biggest problem to land on my doorstep. “Cliff, what are you doing here?”

But he wasn’t even paying attention to me. He was watching the little girl in the fuzzy white bunny pajamas hugginga giant bunny with floppy ears to her side. He knelt on the ground and pointed to the stuffie.

I stepped between them. “Sydney, I said to go back to bed.”

“Who’s the funny man?” She blinked up at me innocently and then turned sleepily to Cliff. “Who are you?”

“I’m Cliff.”

I shook my head. “And I’m past my patience. Sydney,bed.”

She pouted and stomped her little foot, then rubbed her eye vigorously as a yawn stretched her features. She stumbled toward the staircase behind her and started crawling up the carpeted steps. I drilled Cliff with a vicious glare. “Don’t move.”

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