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Shane’s jaw works side-to-side. When he speaks, his voice is low and rough, “Just business? Do you think I’d spend every evening with you if it was just business? Think I’d rush home from work because talking to you is the highlight of my day if it was just business?”
I don’t know what to say to that. It doesn’t matter because Shane keeps talking, his eyes fierce. The woods could catch fire around us, and I’d be staring at him.
“Tell me it’s just business for you. That you honestly think that’s all there is between us. Tell me.”
“I thought there was more,” I admit. “But you never asked me to stay, never said anything about the end of the contract. I thought …” my voice trails off. “Maybe I was reading into it too much.”
“I should have been upfront with you, admitted how I feel.” He’s close enough to touch, but I’m not making the first move.
“How do you feel?” I hate how soft my voice is. Hate how feathers are tickling in my chest again; hope trying to take flight too soon. Settle down, I want to tell it. Don’t get too excited.
“I wish I’d never hired you.”
I stiffen, stepping back.
“Wait, that’s not what I mean.” His hand wraps around my wrist, tugging me in. “I wish I never hired you because I should have asked you out, gone slow, and done it the right way. Worked up to fucking in the woods like animals.”
He quirks up the corner of his mouth in a smile, but sadness in his eyes softens me.
“There’s no such thing as a right way.” I sigh. “I did things the supposed right way the first time. Look where that got me.”
“Would you ever get back together with him?”
It takes me a beat to understand who he’s talking about. “Keith? Never. Why?”
Shane shifts closer, the heat of his body calling to me. His grip on my wrist drops to my hand as his fingers twine between mine. “Are you sure?”
I snort. “Penguins could play ice hockey in hell, and it would still be a no.”
“I figured, but I never asked.” He’s fidgeting, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Squeezing my hand just a smidge too tight.
I open my mouth to ask what’s wrong with him, why he looks so uneasy.
Shane blurts, “Move in. For real.” As soon as he says it, his eyes go wide, his free hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Fuck. That was not how that was supposed to go.”
A laugh escapes me. “Are you sure you’re a lawyer? Because you’re not great at this whole talking thing.”
“I’m great in the courtroom,” he grumbles. Dropping his hand, he toys with the edge of my T-shirt. “It’s corporate law. If I lose a case, it sucks, but the world keeps turning.”
There’s a lump in my throat, and it grows when his eyes meet mine. He sounds as unsteady as I feel when he says, “If I lose you, I don’t think it will.”
I blink back tears. I want to make a joke, ease the emotion, but I can’t. My voice cracks, “I hated leaving yesterday. I was miserable.”
“Good,” he says emphatically. Sniffing, I glare at him. The look he gives me back is stern. “Remember how miserable it felt, and don’t ever do it again.”
“Communicate like a human, and I won’t,” before I’ve finished the sentence, he’s pulled me to his chest, hugging me tight.
“So you’ll come back? Or is it too weird to date a guy who hires women to chase through the woods?” He says it like a joke, but the tension in his body suggests otherwise.
“Are you done hiring women to hunt?”
His rough chuckle makes my heart skip. “You’ve ruined me for anyone else.”
“Only took thirty days?” I tease, slipping my hands into his back pockets and squeezing his ass.
“Didn’t even take the full thirty. I was hooked from the moment you flung yourself off the roof.” He makes a displeased noise. “Never again.”
I laugh. “Wasn’t planning on it.” Wrapped in his arms, inhaling his scent—he smells unreasonably good for someone who uses a body wash shampoo combo—I feel brave. “Would you ever let me hunt you?”
