Page 47 of Bossy Hero

For nearly a decade.

I haven’t been able to bring a woman into my bed ever since. I tried a few times but couldn’t follow through. Not physically, but emotionally. When I closed my eyes, all I saw was Maddie.

I’ve been living like a monk.

Pathetic, huh? I know it is. You don’t need to tell me so.

I’m beginning to suspect I’m punishing myself for my past sins, pining for someone who will never want me. Who doesn’t need me in their life.

Somebody who can walk away from me. Just like I did to Daniel when he needed me the most.

And after what I did to him, it’s what I deserve.

The way she’s rebuking me this weekend is another huge sign that it’s time for me to move on.

It’d be easier to do if she didn’t desire me too.

Perhaps that bear is starting to break free now that she’s made a clean break from her ex-husband. Maybe that’s why she’s stubbornly able to resist what she so desperately craves—me. Her body language doesn’t lie. I’ve been around the block long enough to recognize desire when I see it.

So why is she holding back? What is she afraid of?

A vision of her battered face on the night we met flashes through my mind, answering the question in an instant. No further explanation needed.

New mission: Prove to her that she’s safe with me.

My feet stop short at the edge of the patio when I hear Sawyer bitching, sounding uncharacteristically gruff.

“That dumbass couldn’t pour piss out of a boot if the instructions were on the heel.”

It isn’t the familiar phrase making my brows arch to the sky. Instead, it’s the tone. It’s an impression. One I’ve never heard from him before. Yet I recognize it instantly.

And when I latch my sights on him, his eyes shoot hoot owl wide. Suspicion confirmed.

I stomp across the yard, heading to the fire pit where most of the remaining partygoers have gathered. “Sawyer, I can’t quite place that impression. Care to clue me in?”

He gulps. “Uh.”

Enjoying the dumb look on his face, I needle him further. “Come on, kid. Do tell.”

Nothing. He’s frozen. Like his brain is on the fritz.

Hilarious.

And not only to me. A chorus of chuckles surround the fire pit.

I tilt my ear toward my shoulder. “Wait, wait, wait. That wasn’t an impression of me, was it?”

“Nope. Not at all, Sarge,” he lies, stammering away. “I wouldn’t... I mean, I’d never. It was a joke. About someone else.”

“Told you to stop calling me that.” I pop open my beer and take my seat a few folding chairs down from him. “Explain the joke then. I’d love to hear it. Take as much time as you need to tell me every detail. I enjoy jokes as much as the rest of these fuckers.”

Watching him squirm is rapidly turning into my new favorite activity.

Under normal conditions, his jaw flaps constantly. Like it’s jet-propelled, probably by all the coffee he consumes. But now? He’s as silent as a mouse. Odd how that happens.

“What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue, Sawyer?” Sammy teases him, poking the tip of her shoe against his shin.

He cricks his head toward the house. “Did you hear that? I think someone rang the doorbell.”

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