Written with Regret (The Regret Duet #1)(37)

“Who knew recycling could be so dangerous?” he teased.

Like, actually teased, as though I weren’t his archnemesis.

And because I was so lost in his dreamy, blue stare, I replied, “Some people believe recycling itself is actually a dangerous process that produces harmful byproducts and emissions.”

His brows furrowed. “Interesting.” Though he said it in a way that said it was not interesting in the least.

I couldn’t blame him. It was a random fact I’d once heard. Why it had come to me in that moment, I would never know. But at least words had come out and I didn’t look like a total imbecile.

“Is that paint in your hair?” he asked.

Strike that. I looked like a total imbecile in dirty overalls with damn paint in my hair.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

“Uh…yeah,” I replied, raking my fingers through the top of my hair, like that was going to help. “Purple is my color.” As I attempted to right myself, the back of my hand grazed the front of his shirt, leaving a lovely streak across the front of his gray shirt. “Oh my God,” I breathed in horror. In the recesses of my mind, I knew it was oil paint—not, say, a dribble of ketchup I could just wipe away. But something in the embarrassment section of my brain told me to try anyway. “Shit. I am so sorry.” Using my clean hand, I gave it a swipe, producing a yellow streak out of nowhere. “Shit,” I cried, continuing my attempt to clean his uncleanable shirt with the heels of my palms.

It was ridiculous and I probably looked like a cat digging in the sand, but Caven just stood there, his chin to his chest watching me. That is until a red streak joined its primary and secondary friends.

“Holy shit,” I gasped. “Where is all this paint coming from?”

And because my brain clearly could not accept that my hands had somehow magically transformed into paint brushes hell-bent on using Caven as a canvas… I. Just. Kept. Wiping.

“Hadley, stop,” he said, gently taking my wrists. “It’s okay. Really.”

I could only imagine how red my face was because it felt like my cheeks had caught fire. “Oh my God. I’m so sorry. I’ll buy you a new shirt. I swear. Just tell me how much it cost and I’ll cut you a check.” I paused my hysteria long enough to realize that no one had checks anymore, much less ones they “cut” like an old-school bookie. “That was a lie. I don’t have a check. Do you by chance have Paypal?”

And that was when it happened. Caven Hunt didn’t just grin at me.

Or twitch his lips.

Or even chuckle.

He laughed, deep and throaty.

Rich and brilliant.

Sexy and depressing.

Well…it was only depressing because I knew he probably wouldn’t give those to Hadley the Terrible very often.

And that sucked because I liked it a lot.

“Relax. You don’t have to pay for my shirt. It’s not a big deal.”

I shook my head, my wrists still held in his large hands. “That’s not going to wash out. It’s oil.”

“I can afford a new shirt. And just think: Next time I have to paint the house, I’m all set for a wardrobe.”

“You paint your own house?” I squeaked. Seriously. Because what the hell else would I say when I was already mortified?

I-M-B-E-C-I-L-E

“No. Never,” he replied with a smile so bright that I swear I could feel its warmth.

I liked that a lot too.

“Now. Maybe you should hit the sink before we talk.”

“Is it going to be a good chat?”

He shook his head and cut his gaze off to the side, tucking his lips like he really didn’t want to be smiling at all. “Just… Wash your hands.”

“Right. Okay.” I looked at his fingers still curled around my wrists. “You gonna let me go?”

His gaze came back to mine, the strangest shadow passing over his face. “Yeah. Sorry.”

But he didn’t release me. He stood there for a minute, his blue eyes roaming my face, that shadow darkening by the second.

“Caven,” I whispered.

“You look like her.”

I offered him a tight smile. “I know.”

“I mean, I knew you did, but I don’t think I realized how much until I saw you again.”

My stomach wrenched. “If you want the truth, she looks more like my mom than she does me.” No sooner than the final word cleared my lips did I wish I could take them back.

The shadow on his face transformed into a storm of guilt, and in the very next beat, he dropped my wrists. “We should talk.”

And just like that, the moment was gone.

His scowl returned, his body became hard, and angry Caven reappeared, leaving all the soft and gentle discarded on the floor with the rest of Jerry’s garbage.

“Come on in.”

He dipped his chin but only made it one step over the threshold before abruptly stopping.

Beth was coming at him full steam ahead.

And not my best friend Beth, trying to catch flies with her honey.

This was badass-lawyer Beth. Her shirt had been buttoned all the way up to her throat, her long, brown hair tied back in a bun. And I swear to God the woman was wearing a pair of glasses she had to have produced out of thin air.

“Mr. Hunt, allow me to introduce myself. I’m Beth Watts, Hadley’s attorney.”