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His brow wrinkles. “Torn down? It’s a perfectly good house.”
“I know!” I throw my arms in the air. “This is her way of manipulating me.”
“But why would she want you to live here for a year? What’s her angle?”
“Grandma was a sweetheart. She didn’t have angles.” I thought.
“I beg to differ.” He motions toward the papers.
“Whatever,” I mumble. I don’t want to discuss my grandma and her angles. I need to figure out how to get out of this mess.
“What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know. I have a job back home. Family. Friends. A life.”
“It’s only a year. Those things will still be waiting for you when you get back.”
I narrow my eyes on him. “Easy for you to say. You’re a rockstar who spends more time in hotel rooms than your home.”
His eyes flash with pain. Shoot. I’m being nasty. “Ignore me. I’m a witch.”
“You’re not a witch. You’re upset about your grandma. It’s normal.”
Ugh! He needs to stop being nice. Stop reminding me of the Cash I fell in love with. He needs to be Cash the rockstar. The man who crooks his finger and women throw their clothes at him. The man I don’t know.
“But what would I do for a year here in Winter Falls? I don’t have any friends here.”
“What about the kids you played with when you visited in the summer?”
“Stop being reasonable.”
“Do you want me to be an ass?”
“No,” I pout.
“If I recall correctly, you like my ass. More than like my ass.”
My cheeks warm as memories of digging my fingers into his rear while he moved inside of me assault me. I loved to arch my back and rub my nipples against his chest and—Not the time, Indigo. Not the time. I clear my throat.
“Stop trying to distract me. I need to figure out what to do.”
“Indigo, you already made up your mind.”
I narrow my eyes and throw daggers at him. Because he’s right and I hate it. I hate how he knows me even after all these years. “You don’t know I’ve made up my mind.”
“I do. I know you.”
How dare he claim to know me? I don’t care if it’s true. I jump to my feet. “You don’t know me. Youknewme. Not the same thing.”
He prowls toward me and I retreat until my back is against the wall. I hold up a hand. “Stop.”
To my surprise, he halts.
“Assuming you’re correct.” He smirks and I snarl. “Assuming I have made up my mind to stay, what about you?”
“What about me?”
“You can’t stay here,” I claim despite knowing I can’t cancel his rental agreement.
