Page 14

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

SUTTON

There was something so refreshing about coming home after work and not being exhausted down to my very bones.

While my days at the clinic were busy, it was nothing like the filled-to-bursting schedule I’d come to expect in a day.

On top of that, I felt a connection to my patients that I hadn’t in…

well, ever.

I wasn’t used to being able to spend twenty minutes with a new mom, listening to her fears while encouraging her she was doing great.

What I had been used to was the inordinately high number of people who came into the ER with a random object stuck in their butt, claiming they had no idea how it had gotten there.

That, I definitely didn’t miss.

It had been a couple weeks since Laurel and I had moved to Starlight Cove, and while I actually sort of liked this too-cute-to-be-real town and the people within it, my daughter still wasn’t completely sold.

She was making more friends, though, and spending time with them outside of school.

She and Cami were hanging out tonight, which meant I had the cottage to myself for a bit.

After changing out of my scrubs into leggings and a T-shirt, I grabbed my current book and settled on the couch, ready for these characters to stop dancing around one another and bang already.

I shot off a quick text to Laurel, reminding her to let me know when she was ready to come home.

Then I tossed my phone onto the couch next to me and cracked open my book just as a notification sounded.

Expecting it to be my daughter’s reply, it took me half a second to register who this message was actually from.

But as soon as I did, my spine went rigid, my hackles rising.

“Motherfucker,” I muttered under my breath.

It wasn’t the first—or even the fifteenth—time my ex had texted me since I’d broken things off.

And the messages had only gotten more insistent since Laurel and I had moved—something I’d mentioned in my singular response to him, hoping it would be the final nail in the coffin.

Unfortunately, that hadn’t deterred Doug.

Doug:

Don’t forget you left your favorite pillow at my house.

Let’s plan a weekend so I can get it back to you.

He followed it up with a picture of said pillow, just to prove his point.

And yeah, that was definitely my favorite pillow.

But it could have cost me ten grand, and it wouldn’t have been worth it to set up a meeting with this guy.

As if he hadn’t been giving off enough red flags before— hello ?

Stalking my daughter’s and my locations without my permission?

Talk about over-stepping.

But his continued contact even after I’d shut him down shoved those flags straight into blood-red territory.

Of course, the nice, unassuming guy I’d met at a coffee shop would turn out to be the biggest creep I’d dated in five years.

And that was saying something.

Laurel’s assessment of my dating history wasn’t wrong.

My normally sharp instincts seemed to abandon me when it came to men.

Rather than tell Doug exactly where he could shove my pillow, I ignored the text and blocked the number.

Why I hadn’t done that sooner would forever remain a mystery.

Usually, I liked to see my enemies coming.

But what could this guy do now that Laurel and I were nearly a dozen states away?

Needing a change of scenery, I tugged on a hoodie and grabbed my book before slipping out the front door.

The yard shared between our cottage and Atlas’s oversized—yet incredibly tasteful and warm, dammit—mansion was straight out of a home design and landscape magazine.

Large pots filled with greenery lined a concrete patio, a circle of chairs surrounded a fire pit, and an outdoor kitchen anchored the space.

String lights hung from trees, crisscrossing the area above and illuminating the yard.

And then there was the freakin’ pool.

The shape was organic, as if it had always been there, with edges that blended into the surroundings, a cascading stone waterfall, and…

an Atlas?

Fuck .

He swam laps, his huge body gliding effortlessly through the water.

The glow of the string lights bounced off his toned shoulders, back, and arms, highlighting every bunch and coil of his muscles as he moved.

I bit back a groan as I pressed my lips together, not wanting to let him know how much his presence affected me.

That would give him way too much power over me.

And who the hell knew what a guy like that would do with a power trip?

I didn’t know anything about him, other than the fact that he could make me come as easily as snapping his fingers and what I’d gathered around town.

The consensus was, he really was an asshole to everyone, grumpy and aloof.

People called him the big, mean one, and I wasn’t inclined to disagree.

Add to that the fact that he was the son of a former rock star and he’d been a professional athlete—a group who, in my opinion, tended to think they could get away with anything—and it was a recipe for disaster.

I’d just gotten through dealing with a man whose self-importance wouldn’t allow him to back down and leave me alone.

And Doug had been a peon compared to the mountain-sized man currently pulling himself from the pool.

Sweet fucking Jesus.

I’d already seen everything before—every significant inch of him—and I was irritated as fuck to realize my memories had forgotten some of the best details.

Like the overwhelming width of his shoulders.

Or the bulk of his chest covered in dark hair.

Or the size of those thighs encased in his swim trunks.

Wet, tight swim trunks that left nothing to the imagination.

Holy hell, how was he still that big after swimming in this cool night air?

I wondered if he even realized he had an audience.

I was tucked away on the porch, and though it was fairly close to the pool, I could still get away with hiding.

In fact, maybe I could slink back inside and not have to talk to him at all.

Making up my mind, I shifted with the intention to stand, but his voice stopped me cold.

“Enjoying the show, trouble?”

ATLAS

I normally didn’t give a flying fuck what people thought of me and hadn’t for a very long time.

It would have been difficult as hell to get through my life as the son of a rebel rock star, and then as a professional athlete, if I did.

I wore that disinterest like armor, allowing everyone else’s thoughts and opinions to bounce off me.

They didn’t matter. I didn’t care .

So then, why the fuck had my last conversation with Sutton been playing on repeat in my mind?

The thing was, I was that grumpy asshole.

All the time, to everyone.

Hadn’t given two thoughts about it before.

It just came naturally.

I’d faced enough loss and disappointment in my life that I no longer wanted to deal with the bullshit.

So I treated all encounters as though they just weren’t worth my time.

But with Sutton, I couldn’t do that.

She’d snared me, somehow, her very presence pissing me the hell off.

Mostly because I still wanted her with the fierceness that had gripped me that night in Portland and refused to let go for even a second since.

That she was under the impression my reaction to her was because I hated her being here shouldn’t bother me.

Especially when that was the infinitely easier explanation.

It kept things simple.

Helped reinforce that wall between us.

Because I sure as hell didn’t have room for complications in my life.

Definitely not in the form of a tenant.

And abso-fucking-lutely not in the form of Sutton Sinclair.

It may have taken her a while to notice me in the pool, but from the second she’d stepped out her door with the book she’d been reading this week, my attention had been locked on her.

That was how it always seemed to be whenever she was around.

She was like a homing beacon, constantly drawing my attention.

And I fucking hated it.

What I hated even more was how easily I seemed to be able to read her.

Her pinched brow and pursed lips said she was irritated about something—unsettled, even.

Worse was the fact that I wanted to know exactly what had caused her to feel that way so I could fix it.

“Seriously?” she said, exasperation heavy in her tone.

“I can’t even go outside without running into you?”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I said flatly.

“Am I bothering you by swimming in my own pool at the house I own?”

She huffed out a breath as I grabbed a towel to dry off.

The cool air against my wet skin barely registered because I was so focused on the way her eyes tracked my every movement as I ran the towel across my chest and down my stomach.

“You’re just… everywhere ,” she said.

“No matter where I go, no matter what time, you’re there . Taking up all this…this… space .”

The way she spat the last word, I wasn’t sure if she meant that I was physically taking up space—which, yeah, I wasn’t exactly a small guy—or something else.

Either way, it didn’t matter.

“I’m not going to apologize for taking up space.”

She threw up her hands, muttering to herself just loud enough for me to hear.

“No, of course not. Why would he apologize for anything ?”

Something was clearly bothering her…

more than just me existing.

And I didn’t particularly like that.

Liked even less the fact that I cared in the first place.

Why the hell should it bother me if this little tornado of trouble who tore into my life completely uninvited was upset?

Still, I couldn’t stop myself from asking, “What’s wrong?”

“I’m trying to read, and you’re annoying me.” She very pointedly looked down at the open book in her lap, not meeting my eyes.

“That’s what’s wrong.”

It definitely wasn’t.

She’d stormed out here like she was on a mission to forget something, and it wasn’t that book.

But if this was how she wanted to play it, I’d let her.

“What’s got you frustrated?” I asked.

“It’s none of your business.”

“Is it that book?”

She didn’t even spare me a glance.

“I said it’s none of your business.”

I eyed the paperback, doing a quick estimation of where she was in the story.

“Where are you, chapter fifteen?”

Dropping her head back on her shoulders, she heaved a deep sigh toward the sky as if this conversation were draining every ounce of her will to live.

“Twenty-two. And it’s none of your business .”

My lips twitched, knowing damn well that while this wasn’t what had sent her out here in the first place, she definitely was frustrated about it.

“Keep reading. Chapter twenty-five is what you want.”

“ You —” She caught herself—no doubt on the way to reaming me a new asshole—and narrowed her eyes at me.

“You’re only saying this to irritate me, and it’s not going to work.”

“Whatever you need to tell yourself, trouble.”

“Where’s your kitten?” she asked.

“Petting her is the only benefit to having you in my space.”

“I think you mean my space. This is my home, you know.”

“Believe me, you’ve made it very difficult to forget that I live in your backyard, Atlas.”

I wrapped the towel around my waist and sat on a lounge chair.

Mostly to hide the fact that my cock twitched in my too-thin swim trunks, all thanks to the way my name sounded falling from her lips.

Why the hell did she affect me so damn much?

And why couldn’t I stop it from happening?

“The kitten is inside. She drank herself into a sleep coma after all the milk I gave her.”

Sutton’s reaction was exactly as I’d expected.

She widened her eyes briefly before narrowing them at me and pressed those gorgeous, full lips into a flat line.

“It’s your funeral. But don’t come crying to me when you want help cleaning up cat shit on your twenty-thousand-dollar couch.”

“What if it’s on my bedroom rug? Would you help clean it up then?”

“No! I’m not going to help—” Her words cut off as she snapped her mouth shut and shook her head.

“Since you don’t play football anymore, is this how you’ve chosen to spend your time? Goading people by being an asshole?”

“Not people…just you.”

“And what makes me so lucky?”

I leaned forward, bracing my elbows on my knees, and met her gaze.

“When I piss you off, your eyes look exactly like they did when I made you come.”

Her mouth dropped open, portraying the same shock I felt that I let something so revealing slip.

What in the ever-loving fuck was I doing?

Those thoughts were relegated to the shower and the brief five minutes a day I’d finally allowed myself to think of her.

“I cannot believe you just said that to me.” Her tone was heavy with disbelief, but there was no denying the interest threaded through as well.

“I came out here to?—”

“You came out here to get your mind off something,” I said, daring her to deny it because we both knew it wasn’t the damn book.

“And judging by how much you’ve engaged in our argument, I’d say mission accomplished.”

She huffed out a breath, her gaze scrutinizing as she regarded me.

“You actually are an asshole, aren’t you?”

I didn’t know why her thinking of me as nothing more than that rankled.

But I could handle that.

Especially since I’d accomplished what I’d set out to.

“Maybe so.” I darted my gaze over her face, taking in her expression.

The concern and unease that had been written over every inch of her when she’d first walked out had been replaced by irritation at my hand.

“But it got you to stop thinking about whatever made you come out here looking like that in the first place.”

The hard stare she’d been pinning me with softened, confusion and what looked a hell of a lot like gratitude sweeping over her features.

Fuck . What I needed to be doing was reinforcing these walls between us, not tearing them down.

But I couldn’t seem to keep my head where Sutton was concerned.

She eviscerated every ounce of my best intentions, crushing them like dust under her shoe.

And if I didn’t get my head in the game fast, I was going to have a fucking problem.