Page 53 of Dirty Fighter

He stills, then points at the door. “That was the wind.”

“Okay.” Sure.

Seemingly satisfied that I believe he’s too much of a rational, controlled guy to do anything so temperamental as slam a door, he moves on to what I’m pretty sure is going to be a bitching out of epic proportions.

Why did he have to kiss me?

Why did he have to stop?

“Don’t know which of you is crazier,” he growls, shoving a radio I’m guessing Bruce delivered onto the counter before taking Ed’s coat from me to hang up.

“Me or Bruce? Does it have to be one of us? My money is on you.”

I’m going for cute, trying to lighten things up, but the ogre has woken… and based on that dark glare, he’s not in the mood.

“He shouldn’t have been out there. The guy is practically skin and bones. He could have sent anyone across to check on us, but no.”

“He had to see with his own eyes that you were okay.” It’s something I’m understanding more and more. Because mantrums aside, Jason Stanvic is all too easy to care about.

And kiss… when the rare opportunity presents itself.

He crouches in front of me, his muscular thighs bulging beneath his soaked jeans.

“And you.” There’s so much accusation in those two words, but it’s hard to feel guilty when he reaches for my leg, sliding a gentle, massive hand to cradle my calf as he works the heel of my boot free with the other. “You should have gotten on that damned boat with him.”

The boot slides free, and I wiggle my toes in relief as he sets it aside.

He cups my other calf in his palm. It’s the leg with the scrape, and he’s somehow even more careful this time. Pausing after the first light tug, he asks, “Is this okay?”

I nod, watching as rivulets of water run from his hair down the heavy lines of his face.

Most of the mud is gone, but the few smudges that remain only add to his rugged appeal.

“I used the antiseptic in the kit here and put a bandage on it.” I pull at the new and expanded rip in my jeans to show him.

He nods. Swallows. Gets back to work.

“The Mae Belle is harbor-locked because of the storm damage. Bruce had to borrow a boat small enough to put in from a launch a mile down just to get out here. There’s no power or phone service in at least a dozen counties, and they’re saying it could be a week or more.” He lets out a frustrated breath, still cradling my leg. “And if we get the storms they’re expecting through the next three days, Bruce doesn’t know when he’s going to be able to cross to us again.”

“Harbor-locked?” I can’t even imagine what that kind of damage looks like. “Was anyone hurt?”

“Not that he mentioned. But did you hear what I said? You’re stuck out here with me.”

“Pretty sure you mean that you’re stuck here with me.”

He looks away, like maybe I’ve hit the nail on the head and he doesn’t have a way to soften the blow.

And… it hurts.

Fundamentally, I understand that Jason and I aren’t destined to be forever friends. But after last night, I guess I thought maybe we’d at least have a few days to get to know each other in the ways that weren’t possible when we were young.

And when he kissed me?

Well. I don’t know what I was thinking with that. Except that I wanted it enough that all the reasons it was a terrible idea didn’t totally register.

My second boot comes off, and he sets it beside the first. When he turns back, it’s to tell me, “I shouldn’t have kissed you.”

Okay, time to address the elephant on the island.