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“What’s going on?” Gone was any pretense of niceties. Wyatt’s eyes were hard and his mouth tight.
“I don’t…” Shit. How was she going to handle this when she didn’t exactly know how to articulate what it was she was feeling? “What do you mean? You want to talk about last night?”
He stared at her for a good five seconds and then sat back in his chair, nodding. “I sure as hell want to talk about last night.”
Deflect. Deflect. Deflect.
“Okay.” The word rolled around her head, and she put down her bagel. “You talk in your sleep.”
She could tell that surprised him, and his face darkened with a scowl.
“That’s not what I want to talk about.” He practically growled the sentence.
“Right now, it’s all I’ve got.”
“Okay. If that’s how you want to play.” He studied her for a few moments and then shrugged. “Well, darlin’, I hate to tell you this, but you snore.”
“I do not.” She sat up, her back ramrod straight, and glared at him.
“Yep.” He was grinning now. “You do. Really loud, by the way.”
“No one has ever told me that.”
“So I’m lying?” His smile was wider, and that made her more irritated.
“I’m just saying no one has ever said that to me before.”
“First off, no guy is going to block his own cock by telling a woman she snores. A guy will ignore that stuff to get what he wants. And secondly, when is the last time you slept with someone other than me?”
“I…” She stumbled over her words. How in hell had he managed to turn this around in the space of a minute? “That has nothing to do with it.”
“No. You’re right about that. It doesn’t. So why don’t you say whatever the hell it is you wanted to say to me last night. At Brad and Gwen’s. You know, before the night of sex and more sex and the no-talking thing. Because, hey, most guys like the no-talking thing. Most guys would be all over that. But I gotta tell you, for me, it made things seem a little cold.”
“Really?” Her back was up. “You didn’t seem cold last night.”
“I probably didn’t because even when you’re cold, you’re still hot as hell. Even when you’re cold, I still want you.” He held her gaze for a heartbeat or longer. “But the thing is, Regan? I like talking with you. I like it. All of it. Even when you’re driving me crazy. So, tell me what the hell changed between Sunday and last night?”
She didn’t hesitate and leaned forward. “Violet told me you were at the Coach House Monday night with Daisy Miller.” Her heart was beating nearly out of her chest, but she gripped the edge of her desk, watching him closely.
He didn’t give anything away. And he sure as hell didn’t look surprised at her comments. In fact, a slow smile crept over his face, and she envisioned her fist hitting his throat. That should knock that smug look off his face.
“You’re jealous of Daisy Miller?”
“I’m not jealous of Daisy Miller.” Holy hell was she jealous of Daisy Miller.
“Good, because there’s no need for you to be. I was at the Coach House. I met up with Jarret and Sean for beer and wings. Daisy and her friend Trish—”’
“Trish McMaster?” She rolled her eyes. “Wow. Great company you’re keeping these days.”
That damn smile tugged at his mouth again, infuriating her even more.
“I wouldn’t know,” Wyatt said slowly. “She was playing tongue tag with Sean. And as for Daisy, we danced to some sappy song she liked and that was it.”
“That was it.” She so didn’t believe it. She knew Daisy. And she knew the two of them had gotten together when he’d been home for Thanksgiving. It was a small town. Folks talked.
“She wanted to come back to my place, but I said no.”
Regan said nothing to that because she couldn’t. And Regan didn’t have to look into a mirror to know her cheeks were scarlet. Why the hell hadn’t she just zipped her mouth and shut the hell up?
