Into the Storm (Signal Bend #3)(33)

By the time he’d gotten back to the clubhouse, it was late, and he was sore and exhausted. But his head was straight. It was clear. He’d gone to bed with an idea about what he wanted, and with a calm in his chest and head that was almost painful in its unfamiliarity.

The bed had smelled of Shannon. Of them.

He’d slept fifteen hours, deeply and, as far as he knew, dreamlessly. He woke with that same clarity and sense of purpose. He’d seen Isaac, who’d tried to talk to him about Shannon, but he’d brushed him off. He knew he’d f*cked up. But he had every intention of making it better.

But how to say all that to her now, while she was glaring at him like he was shit on her shoe? He’d thought he’d figured that out, but then Blondie had gotten fresh, and he’d behaved in the way he was always pulling Isaac back from—emotion at the vanguard, brain pulling up the rear. Thinking about it even now made his fists clench. That proprietary way Blondie had swept his hand over her ass, like it belonged there. And the way she’d let it happen.

Nope. He’d do the exact same thing again. Brain didn’t factor.

She stirred, crossing one leg over the other and swinging it impatiently. “Is this explanation you have supposed to be conveyed telepathically or something? Am I supposed to be reading your mind right now?”

She got sassy when she was pissed. He liked it. Smiling a little, he said. “Working up to it.” He took a breath. “I’m sorry I left you alone.”

“You said that already. You’re not forgiven. If that’s all you have—”

“Woman, you need to shut up a minute.”

That made her eyes go wide, and she opened her mouth to say something. Something barbed, no doubt, but Show put up his hand. “You know what happened around here last year, about this time. I expect you’ve heard some about what happened with my family.”

That got her mouth shut. She nodded, and he forged on. “It’s not something I want to get into, but I lost a lot, and a lot of that was my fault. I couldn’t deal, so I…closed up shop, I guess.”

Needing a second to think about what to say next, Show looked around her office. It was nice. Tasteful.

Most of that was Lilli; she’d chosen the furniture and drapes and shit before she’d hired Shannon. Lilli had thought she’d manage the place. That woman thought she could do just about anything she set her mind to.

She was probably right, in the long run, but he’d convinced her that, especially considering that she’d been pregnant at the time, hiring somebody who already knew how to manage a B&B was the really smart call.

Shannon had been managing the place for five months, so this office was fully hers. But there was nothing really personal in it. A couple of plants. But no photographs, no knickknacks. He found it odd.

Sad, even.

“You closed up shop. Well, that’s fine, then. You told me you weren’t interested. Would have been nice if you’d left it at that, but it’s fine. We done?”

He turned back to her as she was moving to get up from the couch. He dropped his hand onto her leg, holding her in place. “No. I’m not finished.”

She stared down at his hand. He didn’t move it. When she lifted her face back to his, he saw that whatever thaw might have started when he’d brought up last year, he’d lost. Back to square one, then.

“I lied. I’m interested. That’s what I’m trying to say. I left because I needed to figure out what was going on between us, what happened that night. Not too proud to say it scared me a little, feeling again. I was riding before I even knew that I’d left you like that. I know what a dick move that was. And I’m sorry. I’m asking you to forgive me.”

“I don’t imagine you know what it’s like to have that happen. I deserve better.”

“Yeah, you do.” His hand was still hooked around her thigh; now, he stroked the length of it. She let him.

“What is it that you want from me? Forgiveness—yeah, I got that. But why? What does it matter?”

“I told you—I’m interested. More than that. Friday night…opened something back up in me. But I’ve been shut down a long time. There’s shit I have to re-learn, I s’pose. I’m asking if you’re still interested, enough to give me a chance to figure my shit out.”

Now she shifted uncomfortably under his hand. “I don’t want a project, Show. I’m not interested in fixing you.”

Jesus, did he not want that. Not again. “I don’t want to be fixed. Not by anybody but me. Just asking if you can see your way to hang around a spell while I do it.”

He’d said his piece, not about to go into any greater detail about Daisy, or Holly, or his marriage, not yet, not so soon. He was still figuring out his changing feelings about most of that himself. So he sat and watched her face, trying to understand whether she was swayed at all. She was staring at the floor, her eyes moving almost as if she were reading something on the hardwood or the plush rug on it.

He was starting to think she wasn’t going to say anything. “Shannon.”

She flinched again at her name. That bothered him; he didn’t understand it. But she finally looked him in the eye. “What does hanging around a spell look like? Because I won’t be your f*ck buddy.”

“Jesus! No!” The thought of her being treated like that made him want to punch somebody. Himself, come to think of it. He wanted her naked again—he wanted her naked now—but he could wait. He’d had some practice. “No. I just…want to spend some time with you. Take you to supper, maybe. Talk some. Get to know each other a little.”