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CHAPTER FIFTEEN

“I hope you have a plan,” I say, as I hold onto the oh-shit handle with one hand, and grip a stainless steel coffee tumbler in another. Seems like I’m always hanging on when I’m in his truck.

I juggle the cup and try my best not to spill a single drop. I don’t know what his magic trick is, but whatever he does, this coffee is too darned good to be wasted on a fumble.

Brock, in Brock fashion, skillfully crosses town in half the time it would take me.

Mouth twisted, eyes narrow, he’s thinking. Hard. Finally, he says, “Without meaning this as an insult, I was planning on dropping you a few blocks away from the station so that we don’t arrive at the same time. Some crappy teenage antics, huh?”

“Actually, I was thinking the same thing.”

He lets out a held breath.

I lightly ask, “Thought I’d be offended?”

He flips those smoldery dark green eyes toward me, “I’m sure I’ll fuck this up at some point, Avery. I’m good at making people hate me.”

He goes back to staring at the road like he’d like to melt the cars in front of him.

I’m stunned by his words for a second. My heart hurts for this man. I already know he does so damned much, tries so hard.

I’m overcome with the urge to claw the eyes out of anyone who says otherwise. But I’m not sharing that little fact.

Instead, I say, “I’m pretty resilient. Don’t expect me to be like other people.”

He drives in tense silence as we approach the downtown area of Lynn’s Cove. His voice is tight when he finally speaks, “You’re not like anyone I’ve ever met.”

I laugh softly. “I hope that’s a good thing.”

“Depends,” he says, but doesn’t elaborate until he stops at the local dry cleaner’s parking lot. Then he clutches the steering wheel like it’s a flotation device and he’s just been flung in a raging ocean. When he pries his fingers off a few seconds later, he turns to me, leveling a gaze so serious on me that I reflexively shrink back.

“Even though everything about this screams trainwreck, I think we need to lay some things out there right now. I’ve got a fifteen-year-old that may or may not freak out if he finds out about you. My job is… well, you know what that’s like. The county has rules against the two of us dating. And, while all of that’s evident, the things you can’t see are probably the harder mountains to cross. I’ve got a thing about trusting my heart to anyone.”

“I expected as much.”

He swallows hard. Saying these things is him laying his most vulnerable parts out for me to see. He sighs as he reaches across the truck and curls his hand around my upper arm. Watching it slide against my skin, he says in a low voice, “I always fuck things up with people I care about. I’m going to say things and do things that will hurt you. Never intentionally, but it’s always happened. My track record is the kind that those women’s magazines write about when they talk about red flags that should send you running.”

I start to speak, but he holds up a hand. “I’m not done. I’m possessive. I get jealous. I’ve got an insatiable sexual appetite when I’m with someone I’m into. I like it rough. I’ll demand you submit.”

I grab his hand. “You’re not a monster, Brock. No matter what you’ve convinced yourself of, you can’t convince me.”

There’s sadness mixed in his hardened gaze when he drops his hand and turns back to the wheel. “You just don’t know me yet.”

“So, you, the man who says he wants everything, is just trying to scare me off after we spent the night together, is that what this is?”

He grunts and shoves his hand in his hair. “You’d be smart to get out of this truck and never look at me again.”

“I’d also be smart to tell you to call me when you’re free because I’m looking forward to spending more time with you.”

He groans, “Avery.”

I flatly say, “Brock.” I glance around. No one is in sight. The dry cleaner is not even open yet. I lean in and plant a soft kiss on his cheek. “Have a good day, boss. I’ll be waiting on that call.”

He groans and says a familiar line. “What the fuck are you doing to me?”

“Resuscitating that ancient heart of yours.”

“Don’t,” he says roughly.

I pull the lever and open the door. Smiling at him, I quip, “Too late.”

“You’re the devil dressed in silk lingerie, Avery Ellis.”

My smile turns into a wry grin. “Funny. Last night, oh yeah, and this morning, you called me Angel.”

“I’m confused, what can I say?”

I push the heavy truck door closed with a thud, wave goodbye, and mouth, “See ya, Chief.” Without looking back, I turn and trot off toward work.

As soon as I’m out of sight, I slow my steps and clutch my heart. Who’s resuscitating who?

Only, this doesn’t feel like resuscitation. This feels like…

Life support.

Something that is temporary.

Something that requires enormous amounts of energy.

The plug must stay firmly in the wall or the line goes flat.

I’m not sure what kind of spell the green-eyed Adonis worked on me, but whatever it was is bad.

All I can think about is the way he looks at me.

Like I’m sunshine, and rainbows, ominous thunderclouds on the horizon, and something he can’t wait to devour.

It’s a heady, but totally confusing feeling.

One I know won’t last, but I’m hoping it keeps me afloat until the rescue boat comes to pull me from the aftermath.