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Steve’s head pops out again, little crooked teeth bared in warning.
Lake freezes, mouth hanging open, gaze going from me to Steve. His eyes still spark, but his voice eases, the anger cold rather than hot, the volume quieter, barely able to be heard above the wind that is now picking up, starting to gust through the trees. “What the fuck were you thinking going out in this?” he grinds out.
“This”—I wave a hand, indicating the snow falling, the wind blowing—“wasn’t happening when I came out.This”—another wave—“is why I’m heading back to the house.”
He lifts a brow. “That”—he nods toward my camera—“is you heading to the house? Cause it sure as shit looked like you were standing there lost, waiting for me to fucking rescue you again.”
“Re-rescue m-me?” I sputter.
The other brow rises, joining the first. “Are you seriously trying to pretend that isn’t the case?”
“Yes!” I snap. Then shake my head. “No! I know where your house is, and I know where I’m going. I was stopping to…” I break off, bite my lip. Because this is going to sound stupid, because I’ve already spent enough time feeling shitty about myself around this man. Because I’m going to do everything in my power to avoid that happening again.
“…to get lost,” he supplies, reaching for my arm. “On purpose.”
I dance back, swatting his hand away. “You’re a dumbass.”
Get lost? On purpose?
Shaking my head, I spin on my heel and start marching toward the house.
I’m responsible.
I’m not a fucking moron.
I’m—
A hand catches my shoulder, turns me back.
I jerk away from him. “I know where I’m going,” I snap.
“Yeah?” he asks derisively.
I don’t even deign to answer that, just start stomping away from him again, boots sliding slightly on the ice, but making good progress back the way I originally came.
Back toward his house, turning onto Forest Bend, stopping at the correct driveway to toss a glare back at him.
See? I knowexactlywhere I’m going.
Then I lift my chin.
Tramp up the driveway.
Ass. Fucking. Hole.
The front door comes into view just as I hear footsteps behind me. Steve growls softly, but I just pat his little butt, murmur, “We’re fine.”
Then I’m over at the green flower pot, lifting it to reveal the key beneath it.
I take the key, shove it in the lock, wrench it to the side, and open the door.
“Woof!” Steve barks happily as the warmth hits—and I can’t lie, the heat feels incredible after being outside for so long.
I feel Lake come in behind me, but I don’t turn around, don’t acknowledge him.
I just release Steve from his jacket prison then lean against the wall to yank off my boots. My coat is next, the sleeve catching on my camera strap, the two tangling together in a mess that isn’t easily unsnarled.
“Nova,” Lake begins.
