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“Why?”
“Because I honestly can’t think of anything other than how much I’d enjoy fucking you in those leather boots and that sexy bra I saw earlier.”
And just like that, her panties were ruined. “You didn’t answer my question.”
He arched a brow. “Do I think it’s wise? Yes, Mariella, I think the two of us fucking is one of the wisest things I can do while stuck in this fishbowl of a town. My mouth between your thighs might be the only way of keeping me out of a barroom brawl tonight, because no matter what happens, I plan on getting good and drunk before the hour’s up.” He gave her hand a gentle tug. “Let’s get you out of that skirt.”
Her heart tripped as she fell into step beside him. She had not waxed for this.
CHAPTER 5
Harrison couldn’t believe she was actually coming back to his room. This had been a wretched trip home for a miserable cause.
His sister, Erin, was a mess when he got to the house. He had no choice but to go inside. He’d sworn years ago that he’d never step foot in that place again, but seeing his little sister so distraught and confused did something to him.
He should have protected her better. He should have come back and made sure she got out of there, but he hadn’t because he was a selfish prick who couldn’t see past his own trauma and pain.
He would prefer setting himself on fire than deal with any of this shit. And no matter how sorry he was that his sister had been exposed to their dad’s abuse a decade longer than him, he still considered bailing on her now. That’s how fucked up he was when it came to anything having to do with his rotten, bastard of a father.
Mariella had been an unexpected and welcomed surprise. He was shocked not to find a wedding ring on her finger and wondered if she’d been married at some point because he couldn’t imagine her making it this long and remaining single.
So many questions. So little time.
“The rooms are nice,” she edged her way into the main area without fully leaving the path to the door.
He wasn’t sure how it was possible, but she looked better than she had in high school. The roundness of her cheeks had sharpened and her heart-shaped face was more defined. Her sly, smoky eyes and fuller lips left no mistake that she was now a woman.
Of course, she was wiser. It had been more than a decade since he last saw her. He’d be a fool to think she hadn’t changed.
His mind flashed to the day he’d left Jasper Falls. He’d been a total jerk, not saying goodbye to her, but he needed to leave and he feared seeing her one last time might persuade him to stay. If he tried to say goodbye and she cried or asked him not to go, he would have wavered.
Back then, he couldn’t risk that. He needed to do the dick thing and just go. No goodbyes. No explanations. No excuses.
He figured he’d never see her again, but in the rare chance that he might, he was almost certain she’d never forgive him. Yet here she was.
“So how about that drink?” He could use a strong one.
She lingered by the bathroom, still not fully entering the room. He set two glasses on the coffee table. Maybe she’d be more comfortable if they sat on the sleeper sofa and ignored the bed. Although he’d made no secret of his intentions in the hall.
“Have a seat.”
She looked incredible in that professional little skirt that hugged her hips and that blouse that barely constrained her tits.
“The rooms are nice.” She slowly stepped deeper into the room, working her way to the window that overlooked the view of Main Street.
The interior design was traditional but contemporary, a nice blend down the middle of modern amenities and colonial charm. Everything still smelled new.
He filled the glasses with ice from the bucket. “So how did your interview really go?”
She slipped off her coat only to fold if over her arm. He wanted her to sit down.
He had a bottle of white wine sent up in hopes that she’d show. He also had a bottle of whiskey delivered in case she didn’t.
“It doesn’t matter. I won’t get the job.”
“Oh?” He removed the foil and twisted the screw of the wine key into the cork.
She sighed. “The owner’s wife hates me.”
He frowned, unsure who owned the hotel. “Who’s the owner?”
“Right, you haven’t lived here in over ten years. Doesn’t Erin keep you up to date on the town gossip?”
“We’re not as close as we used to be.” That was an understatement.
“Oh, well, the owner is Gage King.”
He looked at her in question. Was that name supposed to mean something to him?
