Still Not Over You(5)

I duck into the trees, staying out of sight, and take off at a ground-eating run.

I hurt all the fuck over, but I don’t care.

I’m pissed, thoroughly sick of this, and pure rage and adrenaline are pumping enough endorphins to numb the bruises and devour my pain. I don’t even stop when a branch catches my robe and rips it half-off, the belt coming loose and the robe falling down one arm.

I'm past caring if these assholes get an earful and an eyeful.

I come bursting out of the trees like a juggernaut, barreling toward the front door. Before I lay a hand on it, though, it snaps open – and a petite figure steps out.

At first I don’t recognize her. Not when this slim, leggy young woman is nothing like the awkward little thing with huge frames who used to followed me around like a lost puppy.

McKenna.

Kenna Burke.

Reb.

Standing there all poised and prim and sexy as hell, her green eyes wide and startled behind the kind of librarian glasses that make you wonder what she’d look like with all that chestnut hair pulled free from its tail and rippling around her face and shoulders.

Fuck. Again.

Even though she’s clearly surprised, poised like a faun ready to bolt, she’s still completely put together and gorgeous in a pair of slim jeans and a loose, pretty silk tank top that clings to her in ways that promise things those dreamy eyes can’t quite follow through on. Kenna’s always been a bit of a dreamer, lost in the stars, and she's wearing that look right now.

Almost like she’s seeing other worlds when she looks right through me.

And I’m standing here half-naked with my robe torn up, leaves in my hair, cock practically falling half out of my boxers. She opens her mouth to speak, but then closes it a second later.

This is off to a great fucking start.





*



We’re just staring at each other for what seems like forever. Her lips stay slightly parted like she still wants to say something, but the shock tore the words from that glistening pink mouth.

I’m no better, breathing hard from running, standing here with my jaw hanging like a damn fool. For a minute I’m teleported back five years ago, and all this anger comes boiling up inside me again. I haven't seen her up close like this since the day I cursed her name.

Not since little Reb became the only other human on the planet to know what I was planning.

I don’t know what to do. That's rare.

I’m sure as hell not going to unload on her just yet. Not when she’s already mumbling something like an apology, a nervous strain in her soft, low words.

I can’t even look at her.

I can’t fucking have her here.

So I turn my back on her, dragging my phone from the pocket of my loose robe and pulling the terrycloth up to belt it securely around my body again.

This is Steve's fault. No mistake. When my best friend said he had the perfect person in mind to handle the house, I had no idea he’d gone this fucking loco, sending Kenna here as if he didn’t know exactly what he was doing.

I’m already pulling his number up in my contacts, ignoring the faint, flustered sounds behind me.

First, I'm going to murder Steve.

And then I’m going to send McKenna Burke packing. Right back where she came from.





3





You Had Me At Hello (Kenna)





This wasn’t how I wanted our reunion to go.

I thought I’d have time to prepare for something a bit more formal in a setting where there were appropriate social rules and conventions to keep this from blowing up in my face.

Like a brunch on the patio or something. Objects between us to create proper distance and remind us to be polite, instead of stabbing at each other with words and butter knives and possibly a breakfast fork or two.

Instead, I have this. This insanity.

This behemoth of a man charging out of the trees at me like freaking Tarzan, half-naked and his eyes lit up with crackling electric blue storms.

He’s thicker than I remember. All corded muscle bulking out his frame. Writhing with more tattoos than I remember. He looks like the devil himself with his chin bearded and scruffy, and nothing like the boy I’d once idolized.

That boy sure as hell hadn’t been this much of an asshole.

He’s practically in a tantrum, giving me his back and snarling under his breath as he stabs at his phone and then waits, this bristling mess of raw male energy and thorny irritation. I’d bet what little is left in my bank account that he’s calling my brother.

If I could, I’d double that bet when the call ends without picking up. He just growls and tries it again.

I sigh, hands on my hips.

Sure, Landon caught me off guard, but this is ridiculous. He could have at least tried to be civil, instead of treating me like unwanted trash.

Does he expect those fierce glares to make me afraid of him?

Does he think I'm the same little girl who'll be disarmed with that look?

Like hell.

He hasn’t managed to frighten me away yet, and I’ve seen him at his worst.

Known him at his darkest, and his most depraved.

I march right up to him and take a firm grip on one of his shoulders. Obviously, I can't budge a titan as large as Landon, but at least he won't ignore me.