Page 35 of Hot for the Jerk

“No?”I slid her a sideways glance and tried to hide my smile.“Should I pick up the jerkiness so you’re not proven wrong?”

“Ha-ha!”She swatted me with the tea towel, but I had puma-like reflexes and snatched at it before she could do it a second time.

“Ouch!”I pretend moaned.“My tender bicep.”

She snorted and tried again, this time adding a very sweet little giggle as I jumped out of the way while she chased me around the island.I caught the towel mid-flick, but she didn’t let go and that meant I hauled her forward until her chest bumped into mine.

The air froze.Our bodies froze.Time froze.

Even the snoring people in the other room seemed to freeze or fade away until all that remained, as the wind and rain pummeled the outside of the house, was Raina and me and how there was no room between us now.I felt every one of her inhales against my chest, and I know she felt mine.Her gaze lifted, and she swallowed.I could count every freckle across her nose and cheeks, I’m sure she could count mine too.Her tongue darted out, sliding between the seam of her lips, and her nostrils flared as I clutched the tea towel between us, my knuckles firmly against her breasts.

“Don’tupthe jerkiness, Jagger.You’re not bad company when you’re not trying to piss me off.”Her words escaped in an exhaled whisper as she blinked those beautiful green eyes right up at mine.

I swallowed and released the tea towel, taking a step back.“Noted.You’re less of an icicle when you relax too.”

Her mouth tugged more to the left, but the smile never quite made it all the way before the spell between was severed and she retreated to the sink again.The dirty dishes were all clean, and she just had a few more to dry.So I went to check the fire again and make sure none of the other guests, or Lenora, had slid off the couch, or choked on their own vomit.It’d been a while since I had to play sober nursemaid to anybody, let alone people old enough to be my parents or grandparents.

“I’m going to go bring in more wood,” I said, having slid into my still-slightly-damp Blundstones and stalking back through the kitchen into the mudroom.“I’ll be right back.”

I welcomed the rush of cold air and raindrops on my heated skin.Things between Raina and I were … weird.Hot, but weird.

A definite shift in our … relationship?—Temporary truce?Friendship?Situation?—took place when she confided in me about her husband and how abusive he was.I’m sure that was merely the tip of the iceberg.Perhaps he had also hit her, or Marco?She just didn’t want to come across as a battered woman and chose to keep that part to herself.However, abuse was abuse, whether it was done with fists, words, emotions, or actions.Nobody should ever treat another person the way Josiah treated Raina.No wonder she was gun-shy about relationships again.

As I loaded wood into the wheelbarrow, I ran through the nature of my relationship with the youngest Vino Vixen over the past few years, and how antagonistic we were toward each other.Did I give offabuser vibes?When she saw me at the café that first time, did she see me as a carbon copy of her husband?Maybe I looked like him and she got triggered?That wasn’t anything I could control, but it was certainly something I could address.Just because people looked similar didn’t mean they acted similar.Labels, versus what was inside and all that.

While the wind still tossed the treetops around like they were no more than rag dolls, the rain seemed to have died down a bit, though it came at me sideways, soaking one side of my hoodie as I steered the wheelbarrow to the back of the mudroom.Raina was there to greet me, and I passed off the wood to her, neither of us saying anything or making eye contact.

After I returned the wheelbarrow, I joined her at the dining room table, choosing to hang my hoodie up over the woodstove so it would dry.

She let out a noise like she was choking on a chicken bone.

“What?”

“Why are you shirtless?”

I glanced down at my bellybutton.“Because my hoodie got soaked and I want to dry it.It’s warm enough in here.What’s the problem?You’ve seen me without a shirt on before.Am I really that hideous to you?”

“I … stop fishing for compliments, McEvoy.Can you please put a shirt on?”

“I don’t have a shirt.”

Her growl was real this time as she shoved her seat away and stood up, stalking to the sitting room, only to return a moment later, carrying the shirt I wore earlier—the one that chafed me under the arms.“Here.It’s mostly dry.”

I accepted the shirt with a pout.“It’s too small.”

“All the better to showcase your biceps, my dear,” she said dryly, reclaiming her seat at the table as I reluctantly tugged the shirt back over my head.“Why’d you buy one too small anyway?”

“I didn’tknowit was too small.It’s XL, like I normally buy.But every manufacturer sizes things differently, and these guys don’t cater to burly lumber-snacks like me.”

She snorted just as I poked my head through the neck hole, still grinning.

“You have oneveryhealthy ego, McEvoy.I’ll give you that.”Shaking her head, she focused on the puzzle, and we worked together in silence for about an hour.

The odd cough, rumble, wheeze, or snort flitted toward us from the snooze crew in the living room, but everyone appeared to still be alive.

Even though things between us seemed mostly resolved, and as easy-breezy as I think we’d ever achieve, we didn’t talk much either.She was as deeply lost in her own thoughts as I was.It wasn’t until the darkness outside shrouded us, making the candles and lanterns necessary to get around, that I finally broke the silence.

“You know … it’s not normal the way your husband treated you in bed.Yes, sex is fundamentally, scientifically about procreation, but it’s also about intimacy.About connecting with someone.About pleasure.And the fact that he denied you yours … not all men are like that.”

---