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CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

SUTTON

Thank god Laurel was staying at Cami’s tonight, because I had no idea how I would’ve explained my…

everything… otherwise.

It’d been hours since One Night Stan’s, and I was still reeling from the events of the night.

I didn’t know if it was a good or bad thing that Quinn had been gone when Atlas and I had emerged from the office.

She’d left my purse with Lincoln, along with a message that she’d had to make an emergency house call.

It meant there’d been no questions when Atlas and I had left together, though there had been plenty of curious looks tossed our way.

Something I had no doubt I was going to have to contend with at some point.

The grumpy beast had followed me home, going as far as walking me to the cottage.

He’d glared at the cheap lock on the doorknob as if it had personally offended him before ordering me to stay inside and then storming back to his black SUV.

Let the record show that the only reason I did as he’d instructed was because it was late, I was tired, and those two orgasms he’d given me made me want to curl up and slip into a much-earned sleep.

Lying on the couch with the hum of the TV lulling me, I was on my way to doing just that when a sharp knock startled a yelp out of me.

It was only Atlas’s gruff, “It’s me,” that allowed my racing heart to settle back into a normal pace.

Or as normal as it could manage when the beast himself was in my general vicinity.

My entire body seemed to malfunction whenever he was around.

Most of all, my common sense.

Case in point, when I’d let him strip me down and fuck me on a desk in his family’s bar.

As if I needed a reminder of exactly how combustible we were together.

Shoving those thoughts into the furthest recesses of my mind where they belonged, I glanced out the front window to verify it was him—as if I couldn’t recognize him from that low growl alone—and opened the door.

He did a quick sweep of me from head to toe before storming inside, filling up far too much of the cottage as his gaze darted around the space.

“Please, come in,” I said dryly, closing the door behind him.

“Pack a bag. We can move the rest of your stuff over tomorrow.”

I could only blink at him for long moments, my thoughts whirring a thousand miles an hour.

Because…what the fuck ?

“Did you hit your head?” I asked.

“Run into a telephone pole while you were gone? Maybe slip on some leaves and crack your forehead on the pavement?”

He scowled at me.

“I’m not in the mood for games, trouble.”

“Good. Neither am I. So this game you’re playing where you think I’m going to do whatever you tell me to can end right now.”

“I’m not playing a game,” he bit out.

“And I’m not moving in with you.” I huffed out a laugh and shook my head.

“Do you hear yourself? You don’t even like me.”

“That’s the second time you’ve said that, and it’s starting to piss me off.”

“Why? It’s the truth.”

Rather than refute me, he snapped his mouth shut, his jaw ticking as he stared down at me.

“Excellent rebuttal.” I heaved out a sigh and sat on the couch.

“What happened? He said he wasn’t going to leave?”

Atlas crossed his arms over his chest and glared out the window.

“I couldn’t find him.”

“That’s not a bad thing. It probably just means he left already.”

“What it means is he could be anywhere, and he already knew how to find you in Starlight Cove. It’s not a stretch that he could figure out you live here . And all you have to keep him out is that flimsy fucking excuse for a lock.”

“I think you’re overreacting.”

“And I don’t think you’re reacting enough.”

“I thought Starlight Cove was supposed to be safe?”

“That was before Pillow Humper came to town.”

I huffed out a laugh, unable to tamp it down.

“You’re being ridiculous. Pillow Humper? Really?”

“Don’t tell me the thought didn’t cross your mind.”

I wasn’t going to tell him that, because it absolutely had.

Who knew what my ex had done with my pillow in the months since I’d called things off.

“I’m not moving in to your house, Atlas. And I’m not going to worry about what Doug may or may not do.”

“Who the fuck is Doug?”

“Pillow Humper, as you like to call him.” I stood, gripped Atlas’s elbow, and tugged him toward the door.

“I’m tired. I’m going to go to bed and wake up to news that Pillow Humper is gone. And you’re going to go back to your house and cuddle your kitten, or whatever it is big, grouchy men do to fall asleep. I’ll see you later.”

Without waiting for a response, I pushed him outside and shut the door in his face.

He stood there silently for several long moments before snapping, “Check all the windows. And lock this goddamn door.” Then he stormed off, leaving me alone once again.

And with all these conflicting feelings I didn’t know what to do with.

Part of me was irritated that he had the gall to think he could tell me anything at all.

I was an adult who’d been handling her shit for a long damn time, and I didn’t need his help.

But another, smaller part of me—the one who hadn’t been able to count on anyone else her whole life—was preening under his protection.