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B.J. ignored the others and raced after Grady. As he stepped into the elevator, she hollered, “Hold that door!”
Another man entering glanced back. When their gazes met, he spiked out a hand, accommodating her request.
“Thank ya, sir,” she said breathlessly, slipping inside and settling herself next to Grady.
He must’ve known it would look childish to hop off, so he merely stood stiff as a board, hands fisted at his side, and studied the numbers above the door as they lit one after the other.
B.J. exploded. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
The other passenger lifted his face, his eyes wide and startled, before he no doubt realized she was ripping on Grady and not him.
“I was actually racing after you to apologize. But you know what? Screw that. I’m not sorry about what I said, because it’s about time someone threw an ice cold glass of reality right in your face.”
When he refused to meet her glower, she set her hands on her hips. “You make everyone in Tommy Creek uncomfortable whenever you’re around because you freeze folks out like they should all feel ashamed they’re alive and your wife isn’t. Well, you know what? That’s just the way it happened. Time to move on.”
He continued to stare at the numbers, but his jaw worked furiously, tightening and loosening, tightening back into a knot and then loosening again. “Go to hell,” he said in a low, warning baritone.
The third occupant of the elevator backed against the wall and darted skittish glances from Grady to B.J.
“No. You go to hell,” she countered, jabbing her finger his way. “I’m trying to give you helpful advice on—”
“I don’t need your advice,” he snarled. “I just want to be left alone.”
B.J. snorted. “Well, I can’t. Amy was important to me too, you know. She’d be devastated if she knew I was letting you pretend you’re not alive. You need to join the real world again, Slim. Quit wallowing—”
He whirled toward her so quickly she jerked an intimidated step back. From between clenched teeth, he hissed, “I’ll live my life however I damn well please.”
When she sucked in a breath, he blinked like he’d just realized she was cowering. Letting out a low growl, he reeled away and raked a shaky hand through his hair. “Jesus,” he whispered. “Why can’t everyone just leave me alone?”
B.J. could tell his control was splintering. But she fully believed it’d be healthy for him to lose it. For once in his life, he needed to let out some of the pressure. He needed to alleviate the pain that had been brewing inside him since the moment his wife died.
He needed to go a little crazy.
“It’s probably because you bring it on yourself,” she said.
He glanced menacingly at her. “Excuse me?”
She rolled her eyes. “Oh, come off it, Slim. If you really wanted everyone to stop feeling so sorry for you and treating you like some kind of wounded animal, you’d stop acting like one.”
Shock filtered across his cheekbones with a red tinge. His mouth fell open. “What? I do not—”
But his gaze landed on the wet shirt clinging to her breasts, and the words died in his throat. Looking taken aback by the fact she was nipping, he gaped at her with slack-jawed shock. On pure impulse, she pulled her shoulders back a fraction, pushing her chest forward to goad him. For the briefest of moments, his lashes lowered, and he sucked in a quiet breath through his teeth. Then he tore his eyes away, muttering a curse.
B.J. blinked, taken aback. She’d just gotten a response from the ice man. Grady Rawlings had looked at her with sexual awareness. Thinking this might be good for him, she licked her lips and quickly planned her next move.
The elevator stopped on their floor; he shot through the doors as soon as they began to open.
B.J. stuck to his heels, grabbing his arm.
“Don’t,” he said and shrugged her away, not once stopping his long-legged stride.
She clutched his wet, slippery sleeve again, ignoring the warning.
With a snarl, he swung around, grabbing her wrist in a bruising grip and ripping her hand off him. The scorching heat in his eyes was deadly. “I do not ask for anyone’s sympathy. The last thing in the world I want is for everyone to treat me like some kind of—”
Ignoring his tirade, B.J. rose onto her toes and stamped her mouth against his, moving so fast, she gave him no time to back off or evade her before their lips were firmly sealed together.
He froze on contact, making a muffled sound of irritation. B.J. tasted his surprise, but she only pressed closer until the front of her soaked shirt clung to his. Then, lifting her hand, she touched the side of his neck. He jerked his face to the side, dodging her.
