Fury on Fire (Devil's Rock #3)(30)

Huffing out a breath, she succumbed and texted back. No. It was great.

Not that great. I don’t hear your headboard knocking.



Oh! Heat clawed her face. Not every date ends in sex. It doesn’t mean it was a bad date.

Definitely doesn’t mean it was great.

You have messed-up dating standards.

Just saying. If you can’t help tearing each other’s clothes off and going at it like rabbits the chemistry must be off.



That was his definition of good chemistry? She lifted her gaze to the wall again and bit her lip. Was he right? The impulse to do that hadn’t even been there. Should it have been? She wasn’t saying she should have jumped into bed with Brendan, but shouldn’t there have been the desire? The chemistry? She hadn’t even thought about sex once when she looked at Brendan tonight. She dropped her gaze back down to her phone and typed. I hate you.

Very faint, laughter drifted through the walls. He was over there laughing at her.

She stomped her foot and resisted the urge to storm next door. Her phone buzzed in her hand. She glanced down.

Don’t get mad at me just because I pointed out some truths.



Her fingers flew back with a response. I’m not angry. I just don’t like you very much Mr. Callaghan. Lust after him? Fine. There was that. But he didn’t need to know it. And fortunately (unfortunately?) Faith wasn’t the type of person who could go to bed with a person she didn’t at least like. She was attracted to him because he looked the way he did. Because he filled out a T-shirt with a body that looked like it could break granite. Clearly. No other reason.

Brendan Cooper was good-looking, too. An insidious little voice reminded her of that fact. Over half the women at the courthouse salivated over him. Wendy wasn’t the only one.

Her phone buzzed with another text. Back to being formal? A little late for that isn’t it?

Please stop texting me.

Women who’ve seen my dick usually just call me North.



Her heart pounded faster, harder as the memory of a naked North Callaghan flooded over her—not that the sight of him naked was ever far from her thoughts.

Sorry. Did I see it? I can’t remember.

Liar. You saw it. I bet you’re still seeing it.

Your arrogance is amazing. Goodnight Mr. Callaghan.

Goodnight Ms. Walters.



She stood there for a few moments, staring at her phone and wondering if he would decide to text her back despite his goodnight. She vowed not to reply if he did. She’d just had a date with a handsome, decent guy. Exactly the kind of guy she had been looking for. And, most importantly, there would be a second date. She needed to stop whatever it was she was doing here.

I bet you’re still seeing it.

The muscles low in her belly quivered as she stared at his previous text message. The words were branded on her. She closed her eyes and released a hissing breath. After a moment, she closed out the screen and moved into her contacts so that she could edit his name again.

She changed him from Giver of Orgasms to Arrogant Cock. She told herself he would be less appealing that way.





TWELVE




Sunday dinner with her father and brother wasn’t quite everything she had expected it would be. There was no sweet nostalgia about coming home and cooking in the same kitchen she had been cooking in for the few years since she’d returned home.

Maybe it was too soon. She hadn’t moved out and been in her own place for very long and it felt almost like she had never moved out at all as she opened familiar drawers and cupboards. As she refreshed Dad’s and Hale’s drinks. As she brought them crudités and dip where they lounged in the living room watching a game on TV. She turned the mixer on high so that it whipped the potatoes to a nice, airy consistency, frowning at the explosion of shouts carrying from the living room.

It felt as though she had slipped through a wormhole. Like she hadn’t broken free at all. Like she was still in the same rut she was desperately trying to escape.

Except there was North Callaghan in her life now. He was very un-rut-like.

She scowled. He’s not in your life. He’s the opposite of in your life.

She finished preparing the rest of dinner over Dad’s and Hale’s exclamations at the TV. She had always marveled at them when they shouted and addressed the players. Did they think the players on TV could hear them?

When she called them to the table, it didn’t take long for them to start grilling her about work—apparently they had heard about the outburst at the courthouse the other day.

“I don’t understand why you can’t pick a different career, Faithy.” Hale smeared butter onto his bread as he offered this to the conversation.

Her father followed the observation with “Why can’t you just get married? Settle down and have a couple kids?”

“Woah, let’s not go that far.” Hale held up a hand and pulled a face that seemed to indicate how repellent that idea was to him. Probably because it meant that his sister would have sex. Her father might as well have suggested she start hooking.

She resisted snapping at her father. In his world, marriage and kids meant she wouldn’t work anymore. Her dad was very old-school in that capacity. It would never cross his mind she might want to continue working after starting a family.