“What the hell, Anna?” he asked, his tone hard.
“Oh, come on, you’re being weird. You can’t pretend you aren’t just because you’re layering passivity over your aggression.” She stalked past him as fast as her shoes would let her, walked up the porch and stood by the door, her arms crossed.
“It’s not locked,” he said, taking the stairs two at a time.
“Well, I wasn’t going to go in without your permission. I have manners.”
“Do you?” he asked.
“If I didn’t, I probably would have punched you by now.” She opened the door and stomped up the stairs, until her heel rolled inward slightly and she stumbled. Then she stopped stomping and started taking a little more consideration for her joints.
She was mad at him. She was mad at herself for being mad at him, because the situation was mostly her fault. And she was mad at him for being mad at her for being mad at him.
Mad, mad, mad.
She walked into the bathroom and picked up her stack of clothes, careful not to hold the greasy articles against her dress. The dress that was the cause of so many of tonight’s problems.
It’s not the dress. It’s the fact that you kissed him and now you can’t deal.
Rationality was starting to creep in and she was nothing if not completely irritated about that. It was forcing her to confront the fact that she was actually the one being a jerk, not him. That she was the one who was overreacting, and his behavior was all a response to the fact that she’d gone full Anna-pine, with quills out ready to defend herself at all costs.
She took a deep breath and sat down on the edge of his bed, trading the high heels for her sneakers, then collecting her things again and walking back down the stairs, her feet tingling and aching as they got used to resting flat once more.
Chase wasn’t inside.
She opened the front door and walked out onto the porch.
He was standing there, the porch light shining on him like a beacon. His broad shoulders, trim waist...oh, Lord, his ass. Wrangler butt was a gift from God in her opinion and Chase’s was perfect. Something she’d noticed before, but right now it was physically painful to look at him and not close the space between them. To not touch him.
This was bad. This was why she hadn’t ever touched him before. Why it would have been best if she never had.
She had needs. Fuzzy-blanket needs. She needed to get home.
She cleared her throat. “I’m ready,” she said. “I just... If you could give me a lift down to the shop, that would be nice. So that I’m not cougar food.”
He turned slowly, a strange expression on his face. “Yeah, I wouldn’t want you to get eaten by any mangy predators.”
“I appreciate that.”
He headed down the steps and got back into the truck, and she followed, climbing into the cab beside him. He started the engine and maneuvered the truck onto the gravel road that ran through the property.
She rested her elbow on the armrest, staring outside at the inky black shadows of the pine trees, and the white glitter of stars in the velvet-blue sky. It was a clear night, unusual for their little coastal town.
If only her head was as clear as the sky.
It was full. Full of regret and woe. She didn’t like that. As soon as Chase pulled up to the shop, she scrambled out, not waiting for him to put the vehicle in Park. She was heading toward her own vehicle when she heard Chase behind her.
“What are you doing?” she asked, turning to face him.
But her words were cut off by what he did next. He took one step toward her, closing the distance between them as he wrapped his arm around her waist and drew her up against his chest. Then, before she could protest, before she could say anything, he was kissing her again.
This was different than the kiss at the restaurant. This was different than...well, than any kiss in the whole history of the world.
His kiss tasted of the familiarity of Chase and the strangeness of his anger. Of heat and lust and rage all rolled into one.
She knew him better than she knew almost anyone. Knew the shape of his face, knew his scent, knew his voice. But his scent surrounding her like this, the feel of his face beneath her hands, the sound of that voice—transformed into a feral, passionate growl as he continued to ravish her—was an unknown. Was something else entirely.
Then, suddenly—just as suddenly as he had initiated it—the kiss was over. He released his hold on her, pushing her back. There was nothing but air between them now. Air and a whole lot of feelings. He was standing there, his hands planted on his lean hips, his chest rising and falling with each labored breath. “Six point five?” he asked, his tone challenging. “That sure as hell was no six point five, Anna Brown, and if you’re honest with yourself, you have to admit that.”
She sucked in a harsh, unsteady breath, trying to keep the shock from showing on her face. “I don’t have to admit any such thing.”
“You’re a little liar.”
“What does it matter?” she asked, scowling.
“How would you like it if I told you that you were only average compared to other women I’ve kissed?”
“I’d shut your head in the truck door.”
“Exactly.” He crossed his arms over his broad chest. “So don’t think I’m going to let the same insults stand, honey.”
“Don’t babe me,” she spat. “Don’t honey me.”
Triumph glittered in his dark eyes. The smugness so certain it was visible even in the moonlight. “Then don’t kiss me again.”
“You were the one who kissed me!” she shouted, throwing her arms wide.
“This time. But you started it. Don’t do it again.” He turned around, heading back toward his truck. All she could do was stand there and stare as he drove away.
Something had changed tonight. Something inside of her. She didn’t think she liked it at all.
“Now, I don’t want to be insensitive or hurt your feelings, princess, but why are you being such an asshole today?”
Chase looked over at Sam, who was staring at him from his position by the forge. The fire was going hot and they were pounding out iron, doing some repairs on equipment. By hand. Just the way both of them liked to work.
“I’m not,” Chase said.
“Right. Look, there’s only room for one of us to be a grumpy cuss, and I pretty much have that position filled. So I would appreciate it if you can get your act together.”
“Sorry, Sam, are you unable to take what you dish out every day?”
“What’s going on with you and Anna?”
Chase bristled at the mention of the woman he’d kissed last night. Then he winced when he remembered the kiss. Well, remembered was the wrong word. He’d never forgotten it. But right now he was mentally replaying it, moment by moment. “What did you hear?”
Sam laughed. An honest-to-God laugh. “Do I look like I’m on the gossip chain? I haven’t talked to anybody. It’s just that I saw her leaving your house last night wearing a red dress and sneakers, and then saw her this morning when she went into the shop. She was pissier than you are.”
“Anna is always pissy.” Sam treated his statement to a prolonged stare. “It’s not a