End of Story(34)

“Fine,” I snapped.

He grunted.

“I can’t believe I wore a strapless bra for you.”

His brows rose and his mouth opened and I swept out of the room like a queen. Because I was just petty enough to enjoy getting the last word. So there. Though while the shock that filled his gaze had been enjoyable, I might try to show a little more maturity in future. Maybe not mention my underwear. Let’s add it to the list of shit I shouldn’t say. Oh, well. Lars had a talent for getting under my skin.

Back at the table, it soon became the second-worst night at a restaurant in my life. Lars and I ignored each other while everyone else had a great time. And we didn’t swap meals midway. I didn’t want to try his stupid sausage anyway.

The banging on my door came after a bellowed “Susie!”

I knew that voice. I did not hate that voice. Though I was pretty damn irritated with him for various reasons, including it being close to one in the morning. The idiot was lucky I’d been awake and reading. I unlocked the door and threw it open and there stood Lars. He was wearing gray sweatpants cut off into shorts and a pair of sneakers. His tee had been removed and tucked into the waistband and his bare chest glistened with sweat. And all the while, his thick shoulders were heaving as he sucked down some much-needed air.

I cocked my head. “Did you run all the way here?”

“Yes.”

“Do you need some water?”

“That’d be good,” he gasped. “But I have something to say to you first.”

“Okay. I’m listening. Though you might want to start with an apology for bellowing at me. Otherwise this is going to be a very short conversation.”

“I’m sorry I raised my voice. That was out of line.”

“Thank you.”

“Are you going to apologize for sticking your nose in my business even after I asked you to stop?” he asked.

“Can’t we call it an intervention?”

“No,” he said, voice flat and unfriendly.

“I’m sorry. I should have respected your boundaries. What did you come here to say?”

He scowled down at me and said with all due seriousness, “You cannot talk to me about your underwear.”

I pinned my lips shut.

“I mean it.”

“I can see that,” I said. “And you ran all that way just to tell me that.”

“Are you laughing at me?”

“No, sir. As it happens, I’d already come to the no-underwear rule all by myself.”

He blinked.

“I mean, the no-talking-about-underwear rule.” I clarified. I gave him my most pleasant smile. “Would you like some water now?”

“Yes, please.”

He followed me through to the kitchen, where I fetched him a glass of ice water. And the way his throat worked as he drained the glass. How thick his neck was. I don’t know—the whole man got to me. But staring is rude. The problem was, however, when I lowered my gaze the dick print on the front of his shorts caught my eye. Like the rest of him, it was sizable. And what the sight of it did to me was obscene. My toes curled, and my thighs squeezed together. It had been safe to see him half-naked at his BBQ—with other people present. But here alone in my kitchen...how dare he not manhandle me. This was outrageous.

The thing was, every time I tried to wise up and shut down my feelings, he gave me reason to hope. Because he was no better at ignoring me than I was him. And just to prove it, he glared at my cute black sleep shorts and tank. Never had my sleepwear been so maligned. The lack of a bra seemed to particularly upset him. Though maybe he just liked scowling at my boobs in general. This wasn’t the first time. That my nipples chose that moment to harden, however, was not helpful.

But this whole situation was a mess. He made me angry and happy and confused and turned-on. The only positive to having a lady boner for the man was knowing I wasn’t alone with this chaos and confusion. But unlike him, I at least could display a little dignity.

“Do you often go running in the middle of the night?” I asked.

“No.”

“You couldn’t sleep?”

“No, I couldn’t,” he answered.

“That happens to me sometimes. When there’s a lot on my mind.”

He set the glass aside and crossed his arms. “I wasn’t going to come here, but...what you said about me and Jane...you were right. We broke up because I couldn’t handle the way she interacts sometimes with people, and that hasn’t changed. Did you know the waiter tonight gave her his number?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“I was sitting right there and she took it,” he said. “When we met up last week and decided to try again we agreed to be exclusive. I told her accepting his number made me uncomfortable and she said I was being ridiculous. That she was just being polite and it didn’t mean anything.”

“Maybe it wouldn’t mean anything to some people. But it does to you.”

“Yeah,” he said.

“I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?”

I shrugged. “I get no joy from you being unhappy.”

“Shit.” He rubbed at his face. “I rushed into something I knew wouldn’t work. It’s my own damn fault.”