Page 25 of When We Were Us
I huff a breath out my nose and scrub a hand over my beard.
“I’m just trying to help,” I manage to spit out, chucking the loaf of bread onto the counter at my hip.
She recovers quickly and gives me the slightest smirk. “News flash, Hank. As I very clearly told you yesterday: I. Don't. Want. Your. Help,” she bites out each word, then turns and tosses her empty bottle into the trash can.
Picking up her remaining shopping bag, she glares up at me as she goes to shove past. “Now, if you don't mind, I have things to do.”
I reach out in a flash and grab her arm, curling my fingers around her bicep and jerking her against me as she tries to pass. I don’t grip her hard, but she doesn’t pull away. Her eyes stay fixed on my hand for a beat, and when she turns her face up to me, her gaze is equal parts fire and ice.
The heat of her body against mine has my breath catching in my throat. My groin tightens when I feel her lean in just a fraction of an inch.
“Let go,” she says in a low voice, just above a whisper. It comes out all breathy, and she looks like she’s fighting to hold her composure just as much as I am.
I drop my hand, but I tilt my head down and lean into her so that she has to tip her head back to look at me.
“Lock. Your. Doors,” I grind out.
Her eyes drop to my mouth. I watch as her tongue darts out to lick her bottom lip and I almost groan. God, this woman is distracting, and right now, I’d sooner throttle her than kiss her.
That’s a bald-faced lie.
“Ok. You’re right,” she says, quietly. “I’ll try to remember.”
It takes me a full five seconds to realize she’s not going to argue with me.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Then, I almost jump out of my skin when she puts a gentle hand on my chest and lifts up onto her toes. My God, is she…Is she going to…kiss me?
An unbidden flood of desire rushes to my dick as she brings her face close to mine. But she detours past my mouth, and I can feel the warm caress of her breath as she brings her lips to within a half inch of my ear. Goosebumps break out across my neck and my scalp tingles.
“Hey, Hank?” she rasps.
“Yeah?” It comes out as little more than a croak, I can feel her tits pressed against my chest. I swallow audibly.
“Don’t forget to lock the door on your way out,” she whispers, and then drops to her heels as she tosses me a smug smile and leaves the kitchen.
I lean back and brace both my hands against the counter behind me, letting out a shaky breath. I drag a hand down my face because my body longs to chase her warmth.
What the fuck was that?
I grit my teeth. My eyes search the kitchen and land on the fridge. I pull it open and grab a water bottle. Twisting off the cap, I take a long drink.
No sound comes from the back of the house or the second floor as I leave the kitchen. I consider going after her, but then what? I have to get out of here before I do something I’ll regret. We’re both pissed, and the last thing I need to do with this woman is think with my dick.
With one last glance at the staircase, I step out onto the porch, flicking the lock and closing the door with a quiet click.
Back inside the safety of my truck, I take another long drink and lean my head back against the seat. The cool water slides down my throat, but it does nothing to quench the fire inside me. This was the wrong idea—me coming here and trying to make peace—because that woman still does something to me. The realization completely levels me, but admitting you have a problem is the first step in fixing it or some shit, right?
As I turn the ignition over, I glance up at the house and wonder which room she’s in right now, or what she’s doing. Does she feel even a tenth of what I felt in that kitchen just now? Because, if I’m being honest with myself, having Wrenley Hardcastle against me after all these years felt pretty fucking right.
I’ve been kidding myself for seventeen years. And my brother is right: I have been a grumpy motherfucker. I’d thought it was because Wrenley had broken my heart. Truth is, she took it with her.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
wrenley
