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"Looking forward to it."
"The plane will take you when you're ready. Just text me."
"Done. See ya soon. Give the girls a kiss."
"I will."
The phone clicked.
Home. Funny, New York was the place he decided to settle and grow with his career, but Milan would always hold his heart. The first time he'd learned about family, and love, and respect. The first time he'd been given an opportunity to be more than a piece of garbage. He couldn't wait.
The thought of leaving Gen even for a few days dimmed the joy, but he pushed it aside, refusing to deal with the hornet's nest of emotion ready to sting.
His cell rang again. He picked it up. "Everything okay?"
Her soft sigh spilled into his ear. Instantly, he grew hard. Damn, she was a sorceress. "I forgot the Italian bread. Can you pick some up on the way home?"
"Of course. What's for dinner?"
"Scampi with pasta."
His stomach rumbled. He was getting spoiled by her cooking, and had begun making up for his lack of culinary skills by cleaning and fixing up her house. He'd sealed the cracks in the tub, fixed the broken front step, and painted the bathroom. The pleasure on her face made every drop of sweat worth it, and he enjoyed using his hands to make their home nice.
Her home.
He ignored the mental slip.
"Sounds great. I'll snag a bottle of red to go with it. Hey, did you DVR Love It or List It last night?"
"Yep. Why?"
"No reason. Just figured you wanted to see if they ended up selling it. I thought she did great with the renovations, but the guy was kind of a jerk. I mean, how was she supposed to know once they ripped up the basement there'd be mold?"
"Oh, I wanted to see it, huh? Why can't you admit I got you hooked?"
He snorted. "As if."
"You're sounding more like Nate. If you're not interested, I can always watch it early and delete it before you get home."
Damn. How was he gonna get out of this one? "Whatever," he said. "Won't bother me in the least." He made a mental note to check the computer and see if they had the new episodes uploaded yet.
Her delighted laugh made him want to reach through the phone and touch her. Smooth back her hair. Trace the luscious curve of her lip. Kiss the freckles sprinkled across her nose.
"I won't delete it. And I won't tell either. Drive safe."
"I will. See you in a bit."
He clicked off and grinned. A great meal. A little TV. Intriguing conversation. And a lot of nakedness.
For the first time in his existence, life was perfect.
WOLFE DROPPED THE SHRIMP and stared. "You actually spoke to him? After what that asshole did to you?"
He recognized her sigh of impatience as a good friend. Fortunately, or unfortunately, the lover card had been pulled, and he wanted to howl in protest at any other man getting near her. Especially her ex. "You're overreacting," she said, sipping her Pinot Noir. "It was in broad daylight on the street. He seemed apologetic, and for the first time, sincere."
Yeah. Forget the howling. He was going baboon crazy on her, thumping his chest and pounding on her sincere ex-fiance. The jealousy burned like whiskey but didn't settle into a nice afterglow. It just made him sick. He pushed away his plate, suddenly not hungry. "I don't trust anything he says, Gen. He's an abuser, an egotist, and a control freak. Why didn't you call me?"
Her brows snapped with temper. Yep. The spark in those blue eyes was her first warning. "Because, contrary to popular belief, I can handle myself. Sometimes I do quite well without a knight in armor."
Yeah, she was pissed. The knight crack again. He'd never felt close to being a rescuer. He was just playing catch-up for not recognizing her deep unhappiness earlier. "What if he's lying to get you back to the hospital so he has more control? And I don't believe he'll return your stuff without an excuse to see you again. I told you we should've filed the restraining order!"
Her lips pursed. Second sign of impending temper. "It was my decision to wait. I told Slade to hold off until things settled. I didn't want him to target you."
"Me? You were worried about me? I can take care of myself."
"And I can take care of myself," she growled. "David dropped all the assault charges and the lawsuit, didn't he? He's out of our lives and now he's transferring to Boston. No reason getting all upset."
"I'm not upset."
"Then everything's great."
Silence descended. They glared at each other, not sure why the other was mad and not sure what to do about it. He tried to sound calm and reasonable. "I don't like the idea of him getting you excited about going back to the hospital. Like a carrot he wants to dangle in front of you, then yank away."
"I know. If I decide to go back, I'll be dealing with a lot of emotional backlash. Resentful employees who believe I forced him out. Nothing wrong with taking a step back before making any decisions. Brian already called me and confirmed David's new position in Boston."
Why did he feel like she'd snuck behind his back? What was wrong with him? This crippling possessiveness was way out of his comfort zone. He figured she'd talk to him first, go over her options, tell him where her head was. But it seemed she didn't really need him and went ahead with making her own plans.
Isn't this what he wanted though? They didn't have a permanent relationship. And friends weren't expected to confess details about their decisions. Right?
"Do you miss the hospital?" he asked.
She stilled. Tangled her fingers together. Yes, she did. It was all over her face, and suddenly his heart ached for the life she had turned her back on. She was born to serve, and though Kinnections was a good break for her to take a breath, she needed to go back.
"Yeah. I do."
He nodded. And damned if the next screwed-up question didn't tumble out of his mouth. "Do you miss him?"
She jerked. Her eyes widened, and she suddenly simmered with emotion. Clenching her fists, she leaned forward over the table like she wanted to strangle him. What had just happened?
"Why? Are you afraid I'm thinking of him when I'm fucking you?"
Wolfe jumped from the chair, his own anger lighting up and pumping through his veins. She never talked like that. Never challenged or pushed in such a primitive way. "That's a crappy thing to say," he snarled. "Why are you trying to pick a fight? I just wanted
to watch TV!"
She jumped up from her chair and shook her finger at him. "So did I! But I hate when you treat me like some ridiculous child who needs constant protecting. And if I was still missing David, I would never have gone to bed with you!"
"Fine. Good. Whatever."
"You're acting like such a mitch."
He turned back, shock in his eyes. She did not just say that to him. "What did you call me?"
"A mitch. You know. A male bitch."
"Yeah, I know. Nate uses that word for his hairdresser, but if you call me that again there will be consequences."
She threw her head back and fake laughed. "Is that how you handle things in your world? Big-bully threats to your one-night-stand girlfriends? How about a little communication? How about admitting that maybe you're just as confused as I am about what we're doing together, that you may be jealous of David, and that we both have no clue what to do next?"
She was right. But the line between friendship and girlfriend was too terrifying to step over. He didn't know how to play that role. He'd been alone far too long and knew he'd fail. He narrowed his gaze, took in her defensive stance, and relied on the only asset that always worked.
Sex.
"Maybe you like the sort of threats I give you," he drawled. "Like ripping off your clothes and tossing you on that bed, till your smart mouth doesn't know how to say anything else but my name?"
Oh yeah. Her eyes blazed and he caught the tightening of her nipples under her shirt. For a second, he thought she'd surrender. Would've cashed in all his chips on the bet and let it ride. But then she stiffened her spine, straightening to her mighty five-foot stance, tilted her chin, and stomped past him.
The bedroom door slammed behind her.
Wolfe groaned. He'd screwed up again. How had the whole conversation gotten redirected into an argument? What if he hadn't come in and David had raped her? Wolfe shuddered at the memory. He'd use his dying breath to make sure that never happened. He didn't want to shield her from the world, or lock her in a bubble like the asshole had. He just hated watching her get hurt. And now he was the one who'd hurt her.
He rubbed his fingers over his forehead and began cleaning up. He'd apologize. Give her a few moments to calm down. Maybe explain where his head was at, and how watching the attack affected him. Wolfe concentrated on stacking dishes, putting away the leftovers, and refreshing the wine. He'd knock and give her a peace offering. Try to communicate. He'd sleep on the couch tonight, give her some time, and--
