Page 104 of Falling for the Playboy Pilot

His head snapped toward me, eyes blazing. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what? Tell you the truth?” I stood up, matching his intensity. “You hide behind Ozzy’s death like it’s some kind of shield, but really you’re just scared of letting anyone matter to you.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I have every idea.” I was trembling now, with anger and hurt and frustration. “You want to keep me at arm’s length? Fine. But don’t pretend it’s noble. It’s just fear, plain and simple.”

He stared at me for a long moment, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “Maybe you should go.”

The words hit me like a physical blow. “Maybe I should.”

I stormed toward the bedroom to put on my clothes, fury and humiliation burning in my chest. A toothbrush. A goddamn toothbrush had sent him into a tailspin. I jerked off his shirt and tossed it on the bed that was still messy from our wild night.

What the hell was I doing here?

He stormed into the bedroom a few seconds later.

“Get out!” I demanded.

“It’s my fucking bedroom!”

That was true. Dammit.

It was so hard to properly exit a room when I was in his house. I zipped up my shorts and put my hair up and stomped out of the room. I made it to the front door when I realized he drove me up here. Shit.

Dalton appeared behind me, snatching his keys from the counter.

“Let’s go,” he said through gritted teeth.

I wanted to tell him I’d walk, but it was a long way down the mountain and my pride wasn’t worth the blisters. I yanked open the passenger door and slammed it shut behind me, crossing my arms and staring out the window as he started the engine.

“You know what your problem is?” I said as we pulled out of the driveway.

“I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”

“You think everyone is going to abandon you, so you push them away first. It’s a self-fulfilling prophecy.”

He gripped the steering wheel. “My problem is letting people get too close in the first place.”

“Right. God forbid someone actually care about you.”

“I never asked you to care about me. In fact, I remember specifically telling you not to.”

“And then you fucked me.”

“You wanted me to. You didn’t have to come home with me. I gave you every opportunity to walk away. I practically begged you to stay away from me.”

The words stung more than I wanted to admit. “Trust me, I’m starting to regret it.”

“Good. That makes two of us.”

I turned to stare at him, incredulous. “You regret it? You regret everything that happened between us?”

His jaw was clenched. “I regret letting it go this far.”

“Well, congratulations. You got your wish. It’s over. I will not darken your door, with or without a toothbrush.”

“Fine.”