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Seventeen
Sarah pounded her fists against Dean’s thick, red, wooden front door, her patience wearing thin since his car sat parked at the top of the driveway. He’d either gone on a late-night stroll, or was intentionally ignoring her.
She took two steps back and scanned the double-story brick house’s exterior. No lights through the windows. No sounds either. No sign of life at all. And still, her hot temper refused to die. She wanted to stay. More importantly, she wanted to fight.
Maybe he’s still inside laughing his ass off at my pathetic demands for him to come out.
What happened to Miss Self-Control?
Standing on this man’s doorstep like a lost puppy, clearly.
The loss of control was Dean’s fault. He’d promised to keep her secret. The one about their night together. Then again, he’d also lied about leaving town. Stupid her for believing him twice.
Oh, she’d make him pay. Lost puppy or not, both she and puppies could have sharp teeth, and she’d rip holes through Mr. Holloway for betraying her trust.
Though… maybe not tonight…
She kicked at the door and growled again at his absence, releasing some tension, before turning for her car. She should have stuck to her instincts about not trusting anyone.
“Miss me already?”
She halted at Dean unfolding his large frame from the open door of Sheriff Marlin’s patrol car parked at the end of the driveway.
What the hell?
He plodded toward her in the dark, her tummy churning that, of course, Peter Marlin had to be here to witness her standing on Dean’s doorstep at an ungodly hour.
The sheriff gave her a tight smile and a slight nod through the windshield, a reminder of his earlier warning for her to be careful with her heart.
Dean trudged closer, his stare fixed to the ground like perhaps he avoided her.
Maybe he just has other things on his mind. I can’t tell, and I’m not sure I care.
Unlike many in Harlow who would have sat back to enjoy the show, the sheriff steered his car away, giving her the good fortune to speak with Dean alone. “I need to talk to you.”
Dean stabbed at his front door’s lock with a key, missing the first few times, before dropping the set completely.
Was he drunk? He’d come home in the back of the sheriff’s car, after all. But he didn’t strike her as a big drinker. Besides, Maynard’s was the only bar in town, and she’d just come from there. Where had he been drinking?
She crossed her arms and waited for him to pick up the keys and try again. “Did you hear me? I need to talk to you.”
“Yeah.” He groaned as he pushed his door open, the crescent moon and lack of street light meant she couldn’t see much beyond his severe glower. “I heard you.”
He disappeared deeper into his house, leaving the heavy wood door wide open. She followed and pushed the door behind her. “I got an interesting visit from the sheriff today. You told him about our encounter. I want to know why.”
“Sarah.” He strolled across the large living room, and his lowered tone hinted at fatigue. “Now’s not a good time.”
“You promised you’d keep our night a secret.” She continued after him, up a set of stairs with a painted white banister. “Of all people, did you have to tell Sheriff Marlin? It would have been less awkward if you called my dad and told him the gory details.”
“Leave your dad’s number on your way out and I will.”
She stopped in her tracks while his broad back disappeared around a corner. What a jerk. Not once did he bother to turn and look at her, and now this snarky reply? Heck, he didn’t so much as turn on any lights so she could see where she was going.
His dispassionate dismissal had her releasing a soft growl. She marched onward, now indifferent about her intrusion in his house. He’d intruded on her entire life. Exploited her trust. She would get an answer.
A bright white light came on at the end of the upstairs corridor, and she called after him, “I’m talking to you.”
“I know.”
