Unbreak My Heart (Rough Riders Legacy #1)(94)

Or the cold shoulder.



I didn’t wake him up the next morning before I went to work.

I could claim I did it out of thoughtfulness, letting him sleep in.

But the truth was, I didn’t feel like rehashing our middle-of-the-night argument and he’d insist on it. He’d insist on makeup sex and well, I didn’t feel like that either.

Hormonal much?

Boone wasn’t around when I got home from work. As I searched for a note in the kitchen, I saw the space hadn’t gotten trashed since I’d scrubbed it last night. His laundry remained in a pile in front of the washer and dryer but the family room had been tidied. I checked outside. Boone had cleaned off the patio…or maybe it’d been the pool maintenance guy.

So I followed my usual after-work routine. I changed into exercise clothes and hit the elliptical machine for forty-five minutes.

No sign of Boone after I finished.

I showered.

No sign of him after that either.

It wasn’t like him to be out of communication.

Maybe he was called in to cover a shift at the hospital.

Or maybe he’s pissed off.

I spread my notes across the coffee table and my research materials on the couch for an article I was working on for a trade magazine. They’d contacted me to write it, which was cool, if a little unusual, especially when the submission time frame was so short. I had to email it by Monday morning. I’d just compiled an ordered list of my sources when Boone barreled in.

And I do mean barreled.

He saw me and said, “There’s the woman who rocks my f*cking world.” Then he flashed that dirty-sweet smile and he was on me. Literally. His knees bracketing my thighs, his hands in my hair, his mouth plastered to mine in a morning mouth f*ck. Pressing me into the couch cushion with such force I panicked that he’d break the frame—or my back.

But the man didn’t release any part of me until he was damn good and ready. After he placed a soft kiss over my heart, he murmured, “I missed you today.” Then he muttered that he needed a shower. He hopped off the couch and strode away, leaving everything in disarray; my notes, my papers…me.

Those I-wanna-eat-you-alive kisses made me think Boone wasn’t pissed at me.

Good. Now I could give the article my full concentration.

I closed my eyes. Where had I gotten to before the interruption? The main theme was the importance of…what?

Dammit. Think.

The importance of organization.

I snorted. That was simplistic. It needed more punch right off the bat.

Wait. Where’d I put that magazine with the kickass bullet points?

I shuffled through the papers that’d tumbled together when Boone had jumped on the couch. I found the information and jotted down notes, moving between hard copies and my laptop.

When Boone returned with a beer, he picked up the papers I’d stacked in order and set them on the coffee table so he could sit next to me. Right next to me. Thigh to thigh. With his arm draped along the back edge of the couch, allowing him to drag those clever fingers across the ball of my shoulder and down the outside of my arm.

He turned the TV on but couldn’t stand the commercials so he constantly flipped through channels. It drove me crazy, which was why I rarely watched TV with him.

“Did you eat dinner?” he asked.

I just realized I hadn’t. “I had other things on my mind and I forgot.”

“How can you forget to eat?”

“It happens to me all the time.”

“Raj and I spent the last three hours playing basketball with some of the guys from the hospital. I haven’t played a pick-up game that intense for a long time. So I’m starved.”

“I would’ve thought you’d stop for food on your way home.”

“I was hoping there’d be food here.”

I did cook frequently, but not every night. “I’m not sure what’s in the fridge.”

“Pretty much bare,” he said, reaching for his beer. That he’d set on the coffee table. Above my paperwork.

“You went to the store yesterday.”

“Just for the hot turkey sandwich stuff.” He kissed my temple with his beer-cooled lips. “Are you hungry now?”

Meaning…do you feel like cooking us something?

Not so fast. Maybe he asked so he can go get you both food.

“No. I’m good. I want to get this done.”

“What are you working on?”

“An article for a trade magazine.”

“What’s it about?”

I looked at him. “What’s the article about or what’s the magazine about?”

He shrugged.

“Accepting your limitations and learning the true value of organization.”

“Huh. Cool.” Flip, flip, flip. “What is the true value?”

I almost snapped, It’s a hardware store on Baymont Street, why don’t you go check it out now? Snapping at him wouldn’t solve the problem. “That’s what I’m trying to figure out. And I can’t do that with the constant channel flipping. It’s distracting.”

So much for not sniping at him.

Immediately he pulled away from me. “Maybe you should work in your office and not in the only room in the house with a TV.”