Turning back to the wheel, something about the set of his shoulders makes me think he’s uncomfortable. “I don’t care for violence, but sometimes it’s necessary.” There is something there, buried in his words like a secret.
Maybe it’s the reason why he is so damned rude and inconsiderate?
He did just let you kiss him and tell that guy he was your boyfriend. He did distract the maddening crowd before whisking you away from any danger.
I hadn’t given much thought to why he’s so hellbent on being left alone, but I’m starting to suspect there is a reason for it. Why haven’t I considered that before?
Because I’ve been obsessed with screwing with him, and working on a house that I’m learning may be an impossible flip.
I study Ted while he’s not focused on me. The streetlight filters into the car, casting a glow on his black hair. Observing his profile, I realize his blue eyes are lined in long, dark lashes.
He’s intense and serious. And until just now, I thought it was the worst part of him. But the way he watches the streets, as if scanning for any danger, I wonder if he’d had to be on watch like this before. And it was also for my sake. He could have left me on the street, but he dragged me in here. He wouldn’t voluntarily let me into his house, I had to practically shake his name out of him, and now I felt safer sitting in the seat next to him than I’d felt in a while.
“You’re confusing.”
Ted’s eyebrows climb up his forehead as he meets my scrutiny. “I am?”
“Yes. I thought you hated me but—” I trail off, still not sure what to make of him.
He turns away before I can catch the expression on his face. Fingers flex and wrap around the steering wheel, as if he is trying to ground himself.
“You don’t know anything about me, cream puff.”
Cream puff? “Is that some kind of crack at my weight?”
He rears back, looking at me like I grew a second head. “What? No.”
“Then why are you comparing me to food?” Self-consciousness snakes through me. I’ve worked my ass off to build my confidence and I hate that he can undermine that with a couple words. Why do I care what this jackass thinks?
“Never mind,” he mutters.
“What did Rap talk to you about?” I hadn’t forgotten she pulled him into her office. The way she studied Ted, with probing intensity, I got the feeling she could see something I didn’t. I should get to know what my boss and neighbor talked about.
His lips tighten.
“Fine, don’t tell me,” I grumble.
Once the street is cleared, I say, “I’m going back in.”
“I’ll come with you.” He grabs the car handle.
“No,” I exclaim. “You’ve done enough.” He really has. I didn’t ask for his help, but he gave it. Between the bizarre chain of events and how much I like his helpful, steady presence, I feel shaken.
“Seriously, I need to go talk to my boss and sort things out.”
Ted leans closer, his eyes dropping to my lips, and the air escapes my lungs. I turn still as stone, though every fiber of my being strains forward, wanting to meet him halfway.
“I couldn’t let you do that, not knowing what these idiots might try with you.”
“What do you care?” I ask breathlessly. My lips tingle, as a desperation to connect them with his again presses up against my skin from the inside. His beard excited my nerve endings, and they dance in anticipation of feeling that friction again.
The heat of his body radiates into mine. The desire to close the distance is so strong I bite down on my lower lip to keep myself from giving in. Those deep blue eyes catch the movement, and a low growl emanates from his chest.
Does he mean to intimidate me? And why does that sound send hot liquid coursing to my center with a needy throb? My hand tightens around the door handle as I work to keep still.
I realize then that he still hasn’t answered my question. Why does he care what happens to me? Yesterday we agreed to leave each other alone.
Ted watches me. No. Hedrinksme in. My skin feels tight and I can feel a flush racing up my neck. An unknown emotion tugs at my heart, making it throb in my chest as if beating out a message only I can hear.
