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Gemma: I’m sorry to bother you, but I’m kinda freaking out. Would you mind coming over? Someone followed me tonight, and I’m scared.
His response comes immediately.
Tyler: Stay in your house. I’ll be there in less than ten minutes.
Gemma: Thank you.
I pace around the house while I wait, and when there’s a knock on the door, I jump. I’m worked up more than I realized.
“Gemma, it’s Tyler,” he calls out with another knock.
I unlock the deadbolt and turn the knob, then release a sigh as soon as I see him.
“Hey,” he says rushed, pushing me back into the house and locking the door. He turns around, and his eyes roam down my body. “Are you okay?”
I nod, feeling my insides tremble. “Yes, just weirded out.”
“Tell me what happened,” he says. We walk the few feet into the kitchen while I explain everything from noticing the SUV at work to being followed home. Then I tell him how I saw two men get out and walk around the yard.
“Fuck,” he curses under his breath, brushing a hand through his hair.
“It’s probably nothing. I’m fine, just worked up.”
My entire body is cold, and I can’t seem to stop shivering. I don’t admit that I think Robert’s behind it because he’ll judge me even more, and I can’t deal with Tyler pitying me.
He studies me briefly before closing the gap between us, then wraps his arms around me. “You’re shaking. You aren’t fine.”
I give in to the part of me that wants to feel his touch again and relax against his chest. He tenses, but as soon as I rest my head on his chest, he softens.
“Gemma.”
Leaning back, our gazes lock, and there’s something behind the fire in his eyes. Tyler’s jaw locks as he stares intently at me. He lowers his hands and slides his tongue across his lower lip.
“Yeah?”
“Why’d you ask me to come tonight?”
I blink hard, a thousand thoughts fluttering through my head. “I told you why. Someone followed—”
“Where’s your fiancé?” he interrupts, harshly.
“He’s in a meeting with a client.”
“Did you tell him what happened?”
I swallow hard, shaking my head. “I called a couple of times, and after they went to voicemail, he texted and asked if I was okay.”
“Why didn’t you explain what was going on?”
I lower my eyes, hesitant to spill the truth, but it comes out anyway. “Because I knew he wouldn’t come. He told me to go to his house, and he’d meet me there in a couple of hours.”
The intensity in Tyler’s eyes have butterflies swarming in my stomach, and I hate that he still has this effect on me. I shouldn’t still feel this way twelve years after he broke my heart.
Tyler scratches his fingers along his scruffy jawline, and I find myself wondering if it’s soft or rough. Probably rough, like his hands. The hands that have touched every inch of my body, the fingers that have marked me, the palms that have slapped across my ass.
I choke down the visual and blink away the memories.
“What’d the SUV look like?” he asks.
