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During the ride, we’d spoken casually, and it wasn’t that long of a ride to the garage, which could have made the whole thing weird. It was bad enough I’d already allowed myself to be talked into him driving me in the first place. I can only hope at work tomorrow it’s not uncomfortable for me to be around the man who happens to be the brother to the one man I want most.
“Damnit,” I whisper, slapping my hand against the steering wheel. I need to stop thinking about all of this.
I drive the rest of the way home, stopping only to grab dinner. I’m not in the mood to cook, and where my house is, there’s no way to have anything delivered.
I pull into my driveway, park in the garage, and get out with my food and purse in hand. Off in the distance, I can see the storm clouds rolling in, and the chill in the air sends a shiver down my spine.
My grandmother used to say when you spot the storm coming in, it’s just a promise for the trouble ahead. This would be the last thing I need, and I hope there’s nothing to it, but who the hell knows. All I can do is hope for the best.
On my second glass of wine, I lay back against the couch. Jagger curls into my side and demands I pet him while we watchYellowstone. I hadn’t really gotten into it until recently when I was curious as to what my friends were raving about. It’s pretty awesome to watch. I’m definitely a fan of Rip. He’s hot. There’s just something about him that screams don’t mess with me.
I know he’s just a character on a TV show, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t remind me of a man whose flesh and blood is right here in my very own town.
God knows I’m an idiot where he’s concerned.
Halfway through my wine, I hear the sound of a motorcycle and jerk upright. Jagger meows, and I scramble to my feet. No one comes to my house without letting me know first. And the only ones who do come by here know my after-work routine.
Still holding my glass in my hand, I walk over to the door, pull it open, and stare in shock as I watch the man dismount the back of his bike.
His gaze in my direction, and he looks exactly like the name his brothers gave him, Beast.
I don’t break eye contact with him as he moves across the distance between us.
My breath catches when he’s closer, and I take in the determination on his face mixed with what I can only assume is anger.
“What are you doing here?” I ask with a breath.
“You took off before I could tell you what was wrong with that heap of shit car,” Beast mutters, opening the screen door and stepping inside, right in my space.
“That doesn’t tell me what you’re doing here,” I remark.
“I’m here,” he growls, wrapping an arm around my waist and yanking me into him. “‘Cause I can’t get you out of my fuckin’ head, and I want to know who the fuck this Jagger fucker is.”
I blink up at him, totally taken aback by his admission. “You can’t get me out of your head? What does that mean?” A pang twists inside me, and I’m wondering why he would even say that. I mean, he didn’t seem to be happy to see me the other night, and he walked away when I needed him the most.
Beast slides the fingers of one hand up in my hair, tangling them in the strands, and keeps me tight with his other arm. “Who’s Jagger?”
I blink at him, confused as he dips his head down, getting directly in my face. “Why do you want to know who my cat is?” I shake my head, unable to focus with him so close. “What are you doing here? Seriously, Beast, why did you come here? How did you even find out my address?”
I know the last question is dumb. He could have easily gotten it from one of his brothers. They all know where my house is.
“Your cat?” He furrows his brow, his nostrils flaring.
“Yeah, my cat, Jagger.” I shove against him, unsure of what he’s doing.
“Your fuckin’ cat?” He growls and shakes his head. “Fuck.” A breath passes his lips, and he looks ready to explode. “I swear you’re gonna do my head in and be the death of me.”
I lick my lips, unsure of what he means by that.
Jagger takes that opportunity to break the moment by meowing. Beast looks in his direction and lets me go.
“I should have stayed away,” he mutters, more to himself than me, but those words hurt.
“Be my guest and go ahead and leave. There’s the door.” I raise my arm in that direction, not meeting his gaze. I can’t. It hurts too much.
“Said I should have stayed away, not that I was,” he growls, pinches my chin, and forces me to look up. “We’ve got some things to sort out, you and me. And we’re going to do it starting now.”
He doesn’t give me a chance to respond. I couldn’t if I wanted to. Mostly because his mouth was on mine. He was kissing me. His tongue diving into my mouth. It’s everything I ever thought a kiss with him would be like and more.
