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Her brothers were always forgetting the oddest things when they traveled.
“I’ll get what I need later, if I forgot anything.” That shrug again, as though it didn’t matter. “Coffeepot. Coffee.” He accepted the second cup, glanced into it, then back at her quizzically. “Where do you get your coffee?”
“Walmart,” she drawled. “Coffee aisle. Two times the caffeine right on the box.”
He nodded, then stepped closer.
Poppy felt her heart pick up in speed, felt adrenaline and heat begin spreading beneath her skin.
His hand reached up, pushed back that damned curl that kept falling forward, then he brushed his knuckles over her cheek as his head bent.
And did she move?
Did she step back?
“I haven’t forgotten that kiss you gave me when you were eighteen, Poppy,” he whispered, his nose nearly touching hers, the heat of his body surrounding her. “I think about it. Often.”
Poppy blinked, stepped back, and shook her head.
She remembered the kiss, remembered how she’d begged for it. How desperate she’d been to wipe away the memory of having Wayne Trencher’s lips on hers.
“If I were you, that kiss would be the least of what I remembered, Jack,” she sighed heavily. “What you did for me…”
“Do you still have nightmares?” he asked her softly then.
Poppy inhaled deeply, pushing back the need to crawl into his arms as she had done that night.
“Mac mentioned they got pretty bad for a while,” he said.
Yeah, he and Mac talked whenever Jack came in. He avoided her, but not her brother.
“Not often,” she told him.
The night she’d been attacked still had its moments that haunted her, though. The feel of her legs being forcibly parted, the feel of her flesh itself being parted even as she rammed the blade of that little dagger straight into his chest in a blow filled with rage and fury.
She jerked away from the memory.
“Is that why you stayed away when you were in town all these years?” she asked, fearing, despite his insistence that she not report what had happened, that she’d somehow disappointed him.
“God, no.” He frowned back at her. “I wanted you to have time to put distance between you and the memory, I guess. Time to heal, and to grow up.”
“I healed.” She gave him a short nod. “Mac found a doctor I could talk to, so I had a year of therapy while in college. I grew up.”
“You did indeed grow up,” he agreed, the dark rasp of his voice stroking over her senses and heating them.
“Still.” She attempted a smile by the twist of his lips. “You didn’t have to avoid me. I’ve missed you.”
And she wouldn’t go further. She wouldn’t beg for his attention.
“As I said, I didn’t avoid you.” His gray eyes seemed to darken before he gave another short nod of his head. “Thanks for the coffee,” he murmured, stepping back, his gaze flashing for a moment, steel ice, before it softened again. “I’m sure I’ll see you soon.”
He turned and left the house, his movements quiet for a man his size and oddly graceful.
But, she knew how easily he could move.
How deadly he could be.
As the door closed behind him, she covered her mouth with her hand to hold back the need to call him back, to have him hold her. And she would have, if it hadn’t been obvious that he felt the need to escape.
