He looks back at me and I cross my arms. “Bryce, I know you didn’t come here to check this place out.”

“I own half of it. I think I have a right to see how the remodeling has gone.” He copies me, crossing his arms over his lean chest.

“I never said you didn’t. I said I know…”

He holds up his hand, stopping me. “I know what you said, K. No shit, I didn’t come here to see the fucking remodel.” He shakes his head and exhales before rubbing his ghost of a beard and staring out the French doors. “What do you want?” he asks, still looking out as people walk by.

“What do you mean?” I ask, picking up a pen and busying my hands with it.

He turns his head in my direction, looking vulnerable, but still alpha. His expression is soft, but his body is hard. His eyes are filled with emotion, but his lips are in a tight line, his jaw clenched, like he could make love to me softly, but murder someone a moment later. “Do you want me?” he asks, his voice gruff and bottomless.

I stare at the pen in my hands, unable to face him.

“I don’t think that’s a fair question.”

“Why isn’t that a fair question?”

“Because.” I fiddle with the pen.

“Look at me, K.”

My eyes bounce up to him. “Tell me why that isn’t a fair question. Tell me why that’s not all that matters here.” Gone is vulnerability, and in its place is the confident man I know.

I have no doubt women have spread their legs for him without him even asking. The thought makes me see red, but just because I hate it doesn’t mean it’s not the truth.

Bryce is a gorgeous man, rough in the right places. While other women may have had him, I do believe I’m the only one who’s seen the soft side of him.

“Of course, I want you, Bryce.”

“Then why are we even having this conversation?”

I exhale. “We have problems.”

“So, let’s solve them,” he says. He walks to the counter. Moving my bag to the side, he places his palms flat and leans toward me. “Tell me what your issue is with us.”

I grow nervous with him being so close. His face has healed from the fights he’s gotten into. His thick fingers are silver-scarred and rough-tipped.

“We fight too much,” I say, my eyes jumping away from his hands to his eyes.

“I think it’s fair to say most couples argue,” he replies.

“I think that’s all we know. Saw and Bethany did it, and your mom and dad did.”

“We’re not them,” he says.

“I know, but I’d like to have a different relationship than them also. I don’t want to spend my life arguing with someone.”

He exhales loudly as he moves back from the counter and shoves his hands into his pockets.

This time I exhale, and my lungs still weigh a ton.

“I’m really trying here, K, but I feel like we’re not on the same page.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t be together.” As soon as the words come out, I want to snatch them back and shove them down my throat.“That’s fucking bullshit,”my heart says.“We love him,”she argues.

“But a lifetime of arguing isn’t what she wants,” my mind jumps in.

Bryce leans his head back and laughs. I narrow my eyes. “So, you think because we have one or two arguments, we shouldn’t be together?” He looks at me like I’m nuts and I want to smack him.