Page 65 of Twisted Hearts

Maybe he hadn’t enjoyed it as much as I had.

Maybe he’d put me on the back burner until whatever was happening was finished.

Regardless, most days I was walking around wet, horny, and strung so damn tight it was starting to come across in my attitude.

I was pissy and tense, which sucked considering today was the official grand opening of Dreammaker’s. It wasn’t the attitude I wanted to have when serving customers and watching the ribbon cutting ceremony Malcolm was doing right before my shift started.

The grand cherry on the top of my less than spectacular week: I needed to be at work in fifteen minutes, and I was still twenty minutes minimum from getting out the door.

More frustrating, Shawn was sipping coffee in the kitchen, scrolling through his phone, and sighing every time I rushed from the bathroom to the bedroom while I was getting ready.

“You almost done?”

“No,” I snapped before ducking into the bathroom. My hair was still wet, and it was going to take way too long to dry it and straighten it.

Perhaps if I hadn’t tossed and turned all night, my body aching and needy for something I didn’t want to give myself, I would have slept better.

I grabbed my hair dryer and brush and was about ready to turn it on when a knock hit the door.

“What?”

“Is everything okay?” Shawn asked, and I swore I barely bit back a growl at the question.

No. Everything is not okay. You got me all turned on and have ignored me ever since.

In response, I flipped on the hair dryer and went to work.

By the time I was finally done with my hair and makeup and dressed, I was ten minutes late, out of breath, and hadn’t had time to have a bite to eat.

“I’m ready,” I said, hurrying to the living area where Shawn had been waiting by the door, one booted foot slung over the other while he rested against the wall.

His gaze did a quick scan of me, jaw clenched tight as he pushed off. “You didn’t eat.”

“I know.” I moved toward him, noticing that he might have scanned my body, but not with that heated look he’d given me the week before. It was blank.

I tried not to let the disappointment show and must have failed because Shawn wrapped his hand around the door handle and stood in my way.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re lying.”

I absolutely was, but I was still stinging from the fact that we hadn’tdoneanything. No way was I telling him that.

“I just need to get to work.”

“You’re not upset about work.”

My spine snapped straight and I met his gaze. His eyes were narrowed, dark pools of oceanic blue. Mine were burning with irritation. “I’m upset I’m late and didn’t sleep well.” I flipped my hand toward the door. “So can we go?”

He sucked a breath in, rolling his lips together. “Fine.”

I always knew women said the word to project that things were fine even when they weren’t.

I had no idea until that moment men had the same superpower.

With a huff and a shake of his head, he opened the door and held it for me so I could go first. We were out in the alley before we spoke again.

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