Crazy Girl(33)

After giving myself a little pep talk, I climbed out of the beater and made my way up Wren’s walk. I was only a few feet from reaching his stoop when my shoe caught on something, causing me to trip. I stumbled, but caught myself before completely face planting.

“You should wear a helmet, woman. You’re a walking disaster,” Wren greeted, and he chuckled causing me to jerk my head up. He was standing on his porch, his arms crossed over his massive chest, his shirt tight, revealing the defined curves of his muscular biceps. He had a hat on, tugged down low, accentuating the sharpness of his face, even with his beard. My cheeks heated as I looked away from him. Could I just not be the most ridiculous person in the world every time I was in his vicinity? I mean, really. And to top it off, he had to be standing there watching me trip like a doofus while he looked hot. Perfect. Controlled. On two feet.

I let out a small, quiet groan. Maybe it was because I didn’t respond, or maybe because he saw how flustered I felt, but the humored expression on his face faded and he took a step down extending his hand out to me, offering assistance. “You okay?” He was going to keep saving me, wasn’t he? I wanted to groan again. One time. Just once I’d like to not appear like a hot mess.

“I’m fine. Thanks,” I managed before taking his hand. I didn’t need his help, but I felt it would be rude to reject his offer when he was actually trying to be nice.

Opening the front door for me, he let me in first and followed closely behind me, shutting it. I stood frozen, one hand gripping the strap of my purse, waiting for him to instruct me on where to go. “Welcome to my home,” he announced as he waved an arm out as if presenting me with a prize I’d just won on a gameshow. He already knew my house was crap.

We were standing in his living room next to a large leather sectional couch stationed in front of a huge flat screen television. His furniture was dark and modern, exactly what I’d imagine in a bachelor pad. Walking past me, he went to the kitchen that was divided from the living room by a breakfast counter with gray granite countertop. Judging by the papers scattered over it and his open laptop, I wagered he used it more as a desk than a place to eat. Still, it was more than I had. Following him, I gazed around, noting things as I moved—the tiny fiber-optic Christmas tree in the corner that he’d apparently never bothered to take down after Christmas, the Xbox remotes and holstered knife on the coffee table, and the endless amounts of bullets scattered all over the counters. Those would take some getting used to. Opening the fridge, he twisted his neck and looked at me over his shoulder.

“You thirsty?”

“No, I’m good. Thanks,” I answered quietly. “You have a…nice home.” I wasn’t sure why that had sounded so awkward coming out of my mouth, but I cringed internally.

He shrugged as he shut the fridge. “It’s okay. I’m actually looking at another place to move to today. That’s the property we’re going to see.”

“You’re moving?”

“Yeah. I rent this house. I traveled a lot over the past few years for work, so owning something hasn’t made sense.” I nodded, digesting that. Did he still travel a lot? That probably wouldn’t make a potential relationship with him very convenient. Was I getting comfortable only to have him disappear? I tucked that question away in the back pocket of my mind, deciding it was too forward of a question now. “I’ve wanted to get a house on the water for a while,” Wren went on. “I saw the place on my drive home last week. The view of the water is killer, so I called the relator for a viewing of the inside.”

I was standing cross-armed by the counter, my purse still hanging from my shoulder like a life preserver, preventing me from drowning in the awkwardness around me while I listened to him, when he quirked his head to the side and smirked. Even with his facial hair and massive body, there was something about the glint in his eyes when he smiled—a boyish charm almost—that made something uncoil in my chest. His eyes were my weakness. They stood out to me. Made me get lost in them.

He kept staring. That was when I shook my head and narrowed my eyes in confusion—why was he looking at me like that?

My heartbeat picked up pace with what he did next. Taking a few strides toward me, I dropped my arms to my sides when he reached me and looked up at him. “I want to kiss you,” he stated, and then he did. Just like that. He wanted to and did it. Leaning in, his lips brushed against mine, his hand slipping to the back of my neck, bracing it. Before I knew it, I was pushing up on my tiptoes and my hands were on his arms, gripping his biceps, as I kissed him back. Like an instant reaction, my mouth gravitated toward his.

I basked in the warmness of his mouth. God, he was an amazing kisser. When his lips left mine, I pried my eyes open from the weight of the pleasured haze, and stared up at him. “Hi,” he rasped.

Darting my tongue out, still tasting his kiss, I squeaked out, “Hi.”

“Are you ready to go?”

Still afloat, I forced my head to move and nodded yes.

Wren drove us in his BMW, black with leather interior, to his potential future place of residence. I tried to fight the uneasiness I felt…the whispers of suspicion that lurked inside of me. Did he own a car like this to get women—to impress them? His place was nice enough. Would his potential new home blow his current one out of the water? He was a catch, so damn attractive, and going places while my life seemed to stand still. When we pulled in the driveway, my heart ached a little as I climbed out of the car and gazed down at the water. Definitely better. The house was adequately sized and was set perched on a hill, allowing a perfect view of the river.