Page 3 of Eye of the Hurricane (Weathering Doves Harbor #2)

Is this about the other night?

Katherine

WE ARE NOT TALKING ABOUT THAT.

My cheeks feel as though they might be on fire. Luna is looking at me with a stupid knowing smirk on her face.

“I’m never drinking again,” I groan. She laughs across the table.

“I think you already said that a few hundred times since Thursday. It’s only Sunday, by the way,” she says, pointing out the obvious. The longest weekend of my life. Tomorrow I’m back to real life, real responsibilities, and worst of all— the plan .

I never used to mind the plan. In fact, I used to find it comforting. It was always a map to my dreams and aspirations. That is—until I met Ares. Now the plan feels an awful lot like a roadblock or a cage for me to be kept in.

I suppose there is no one to be mad at but myself.

The rules I set for myself were never hard to follow.

No dating. No problem, I never really wanted to.

No sex. No problem, never met anyone who piqued my interest. Again, until I met Ares.

Something about his annoyingly perfect face and overly cocky personality really does it for me. Not that I’d ever admit that to him.

“This is the worst brunch ever by the way,” I grumble.

My cat, Bellatrix, is curled up in the blanket on my lap. I haven’t even had a chance to change into my comfy clothes yet. The couch was screaming my name after another long day. I’ll just rest here a few minutes before I get up and put the house to bed.

The next thing I know, I’m waking up to a light knock on my door. I barely have time to get my bearings before I’m springing into action. I do the only logical thing I can think to do. I grab a knife off the kitchen counter and yank the door open, ready to stab whoever is on the other side.

Of course, it’s Ares. The guy I’m violently not ignoring. His eyes go wide at the sight of the knife in my hand.

“Were you going to stab me?” he asks. I sigh deeply, lowering my weapon to my side.

“I was sleeping. A stranger knocked on my door at…” I ch eck the clock on my wall, “nine-thirty. Of course, I brought a knife with me.” He chuckles.

“Kat, are you avoiding me?” he asks, sounding genuinely concerned.

My knee-jerk reaction is to pretend everything is fine, and tell him I’m not. I even open my mouth to tell him I’m not. Pretend I have no reason to. Something about that worried tone in his voice coaxes me to be honest, though.

“Okay, fine. Maybe a little. Did you really drive over here just to ask me that?”

“Yes. I was worried that I did something to make you uncomfortable.”

Shit . That’s an outcome I hadn’t considered. And it’s definitely not the case, I never meant to make him feel as though it was.

“Come on, come in,” I sigh, stepping to the side and letting him in the room. He slips between me and the door, going straight to the couch I was just asleep on.

Bellatrix, who could pass for a fuzzy shadow, saunters right up into his personal space despite only meeting him one other time. I draw in one long deep breath and push it out of my nose in an attempt to prepare myself for what promises to be an uncomfortable conversation.

“You didn’t make me uncomfortable,” I tell him. His tense demeanor softens but confusion is still twisted into his otherwise perfect face.

“Then why are you avoiding me?” If I wish hard enough, will the pits of hell open up and swallow me whole? Sounds better than facing this head-on .

“Uh… well. It’s embarrassing, for starters,” I explain. He tilts his head to one side like a confused puppy.

“You have nothing to be embarrassed about. You were drunk. Don’t worry about it.” He shrugs it off like it’s the least interesting thing that’s ever happened to him.

“I just can’t believe I asked you to… well… you know…” I stumble over my words.

“Fuck you?” he asks, wearing a smug grin. He’s toying with me now. It’s working, too, because my cheeks are red-hot. I don’t even speak, I just give a slow nod. “Can I ask you something?” he adds, sitting up a little straighter. His hand flexes before laying flat on his thigh.

I feel betrayed by my own body when that sight sends a jolt low in my belly.

“I think you’re going to ask me either way,” I sigh.

“Did you really want that? Or were you just drunk?” The question is loaded. The short answer is yes. I’ve thought about it since I met him. The long answer is that without the alcohol, I never would have asked. Sober me knows the consequences of those actions.

“I don’t know.” The words come out so low I’m not even sure if he can hear it. That is, until he responds.

“You don’t know?” He leans forward with his elbows on his knees. His tongue peaks out and takes a swipe at his lips. My eyes trace the path of his tongue then land back on his eyes to find one brow cocked. I’m staring. Goddammit.

“Okay, fine.” I groan. “Yes. Are you happy?” A smirk creeps up on his face, causing me to roll my eyes.

“Yes.”

“You’re so infuriating, you know that?”

“All part of the charm, honey,” he tells me with a wink.

I let out an exasperated sigh. He’s all too much, too cocky, and yet it still turns me on. I’m not proud of it. It’s like a force stronger than me. If I had it my way, I wouldn’t be into his cocky demeanor or his larger-than-life personality. Yet, here we are.

“Right. The charm,” I offer a sarcastic laugh. “Anyway, you should go, I have to get to bed. Long day tomorrow.” I draw out a long, fake yawn.

“I’ll go, but no more avoiding me. Okay?” The words come out like a demand but his eyes are pleading. That’s the only thing that stops me from giving him one of my normal, cold replies.

“I won’t, I promise,” I assure him. With that, he’s out the door.