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“Straight home?” she finally said.
“Yes, please.”
She checked over her shoulder and pulled out into traffic. For a Monday, the rush hour traffic was weak, as if everyone had decided to take a vacation simultaneously. It only took her twenty minutes to drive to Wes’s place, even with easing off on her habit of speeding.
She slowed to a stop and parked in front of Wes’s house, trying not to be hurt over his silence and failing miserably. He really was going to act like what happened between them last week had never happened.
She bit down on her urge to say something, to force him to at least acknowledge the kiss they shared. But what good would that do? If he wanted to pretend it didn’t happen, then it meant he had regret.
Or he hated the way you kissed.
She cringed inwardly. Oh, God. She hadn’t even thought of that possibility.
Wes unbuckled his seat belt before reaching into the inside pocket of his leather jacket. The motion brought the scent of his aftershave to her. He smelled so good. He always smelled good, and he always looked good. He was over forty, but my God, the man kept himself in good shape. She supposed it was partially his lion shifter genes and partly his job. Working at a security firm, you needed to be in shape, right?
Wes was definitely not like some of the other forty-something men she drove to appointments. He wasn’t going soft around the middle or thinning on top, and the little laugh lines around his eyes and mouth only enhanced his good looks. Wes’s body was… in a word – delicious. He was tall and lean and muscular as hell. Her mouth dried out, just remembering the feel of his thick thigh between hers and the pressure of his hard chest against her tits. His coppery brown eyes had a weird way of making her feel just the slightest bit off-kilter, and his thick dark hair with the silver at the temples was cut short the way she liked.
Sure, but not short enough that you couldn’t get a good grip on it when he has his face buried between your legs, am I right?
Her face flamed red as lust and embarrassment jostled for the number one spot in her body. Wes inhaled, and the slightest hint of red tinged his tanned cheeks.
Perfect. Just perfect. He could smell her lust.
“Take this, Eleanor,” Wes said.
She stared at the black can he held out to her, the words “Mace Pepper Gel” written in white and red on the side of it.
“Mace,” she said. “You got me Mace?”
He nodded, and she said, “Why?”
“Because that pocketknife you carry for protection wouldn’t cut a loaf of bread,” Wes said. “Take the pepper spray, Eleanor.”
“If I use this in the car, it’ll hurt me too,” she said. “The knife is better.”
“Do you even know how to use that knife?” Wes said. “Have you had any training?”
“Does a person need training?” Eleanor said. “I mean, I’ve seen Psycho a few times. It’s your basic stabby-stab motion.” She pretended to stab an invisible shower curtain as Wes’s face turned into a dark cloud.
“The Mace is better protection,” Wes said.
“Not if I’m inhaling it, too,” Eleanor said. “I can’t run away if I’m blinded by pepper spray.”
“Better to be hit with a bit of pepper spray than raped or murdered.” Wes’s voice was tight, and she couldn’t quite suss out the look on his face. It was a cross between irritation and worry.
The irritation she got – eventually, she irritated the shit out of almost everyone she met – but the worry was a mystery. The kissing last week aside, Wes had spent over a year rejecting every attempt she made to be his friend. Why would he care so much about her safety?
There was only one way to find out.
“Why do you care so much about my safety?” she said.
Surprisingly, hurt joined the worry and irritation. “Do I have to have a reason?”
“No, but my safety isn’t your concern. We’re not even friends,” she said.
His lips thinned out, and he dropped the can of Mace into the front passenger seat before shoving open his door, climbing out of the car, and slamming the door shut. She watched him stalk toward his front door, his movements as graceful as… well… a cat.
Great. Now she’d hurt his feelings. Her stomach churning, she stared at rear-view Eleanor. “I didn’t mean to hurt his feelings. But we’re not friends. Right?”
