Page 28 of The Rogue

My chest burns but it fades quickly. I’ve never been the type to cry. Never. Not even when I woke up with excruciating pain in my lower back three years ago. But just in case the stinging in my eyes doesn’t fade soon, I should go.

“Gotcha.” Swallowing hard, I back up. “Did you say my things were upstairs?”

His hard features neutralize. “Third door on the left.”

“Thank you.”

I plug my phone in and wait for it to charge so I can turn it on. It finally ran out of juice after I ended my call with Bessie earlier.

The guest room Levi put me in is rustic and clean. Smells nice, too. A queen bed with a solid white down comforter and linens. A wooden desk.

A standing dresser.

My stomach twists.

It’s sad that a piece of bedroom furniture strikes more fear into my heart than a killer spider.

I need serious therapy.

I’d ask if I could sleep in the den again, but it doesn’t seem like Levi is in the mood for me right now.

I get it. The man is protective of his town, his family—and I’m the threat to all that is good in his world.

If I had any pride left, I’d march out of his house and this town on foot before I let a man speak to me that way.

But I’m too tired to be proud.

And this bed is warm. I haven’t slept on a mattress since those nights I’d sneak into the Inn. Back in Summer Hill, I sleep on Bessie’s couch.

I lie over the bed covers and watch what remains of the sunset from my window, my eyelids falling heavy until I give up the fight to stay awake.

The voice next to me is hoarse and familiar. “Hey.”

I blink my eyes open.

Groaning, I turn. Levi is at my side. “Oh good, you’re awake,” he says softly with a grin.

“I’m not.”

“Don’t make me splash cold water on your face, Tess.”

I sigh with another groan. “What did I do now?”

“Nothing,” he answers gravelly, running a hand across his brow. “I was just wondering if you’d like to have dinner with me.”

He can’t be serious. I’d like to splash water onhisface for even considering that I’d have a meal with him. “No.”

He’s not fazed by my glower. I’m losing my touch. “Jackson’s asleep.”

I sit up. “Indie, I’m going to make this very easy for you. I’m going to personally disqualify myself for the job right now. I don’t like kids. I don’t want them. I have no experience. And I don’t. Like. You.”

He inhales a small breath, ready to speak.

I hold up a finger, remembering his ad. “I take that back. I totally see myself falling in love with you. Ergo, I don’t meet your requirements. I will leave here the minute my car is returned, and you’ll never have to see me again.”

His face is tight, but there’s compassion and remorse in his eyes. “Okay.” Then, he holds his hand out. “Now, will you have dinner with me?”

I stare at it uncommittedly.

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