So I turn my back on her, dragging my phone from the pocket of my loose robe and pulling the terrycloth up to belt it securely around my body again.
This is Steve's fault. No mistake. When my best friend said he had the perfect person in mind to handle the house, I had no idea he’d gone this fucking loco, sending Kenna here as if he didn’t know exactly what he was doing.
I’m already pulling his number up in my contacts, ignoring the faint, flustered sounds behind me.
First, I'm going to murder Steve.
And then I’m going to send McKenna Burke packing. Right back where she came from.
3
You Had Me At Hello (Kenna)
This wasn’t how I wanted our reunion to go.
I thought I’d have time to prepare for something a bit more formal in a setting where there were appropriate social rules and conventions to keep this from blowing up in my face.
Like a brunch on the patio or something. Objects between us to create proper distance and remind us to be polite, instead of stabbing at each other with words and butter knives and possibly a breakfast fork or two.
Instead, I have this. This insanity.
This behemoth of a man charging out of the trees at me like freaking Tarzan, half-naked and his eyes lit up with crackling electric blue storms.
He’s thicker than I remember. All corded muscle bulking out his frame. Writhing with more tattoos than I remember. He looks like the devil himself with his chin bearded and scruffy, and nothing like the boy I’d once idolized.
That boy sure as hell hadn’t been this much of an asshole.
He’s practically in a tantrum, giving me his back and snarling under his breath as he stabs at his phone and then waits, this bristling mess of raw male energy and thorny irritation. I’d bet what little is left in my bank account that he’s calling my brother.
If I could, I’d double that bet when the call ends without picking up. He just growls and tries it again.
I sigh, hands on my hips.
Sure, Landon caught me off guard, but this is ridiculous. He could have at least tried to be civil, instead of treating me like unwanted trash.
Does he expect those fierce glares to make me afraid of him?
Does he think I'm the same little girl who'll be disarmed with that look?
Like hell.
He hasn’t managed to frighten me away yet, and I’ve seen him at his worst.
Known him at his darkest, and his most depraved.
I march right up to him and take a firm grip on one of his shoulders. Obviously, I can't budge a titan as large as Landon, but at least he won't ignore me.
And he doesn’t. Ignore me, that is.
He whirls around so quick it makes my heart stumble, and jerks back until I’m no longer touching him. He’s in full beast mode, upper lip curled in something between a snarl and a sneer, his glare cutting into me.
I lift my chin, pride more than anything making me brave. “The word you’re looking for,” I bite off, “is ‘hello.’”
The word he gives me instead? “Fuck.”
And then he says, “Are you out of your mind? What was Steve thinking, sending you here?” Those brilliant blue eyes narrow. “Or was this your idea?”
I scowl. “It wasn’t. Steve was trying to do you a favor, if you'd let him.”
“A favor,” he scoffs. “Like sending you here is helping me gain anything besides a headache. You can’t be here, Kenna. It’s absolutely ridiculous. You and I, we don’t –”
“Don’t what?” I demand. Anger, right now, is easier than the ball of hurt knotting in my chest.
He goes still. There’s something strange in his eyes, before they ice over and he looks at me oddly, remotely, distantly. More standoffish than I ever could've expected.
“Just don't,” he says, as if that’s the final verdict.
He’s written me off with a snap of his tongue. Not even a chance to talk things out.
I’m not the little girl I was back then, but all he sees is a nuisance sent to disrupt his orderly life and expose his secrets. But if I’m not that little girl anymore…
Then I’m not afraid of him anymore, either.
Not like I was then.
Back when his Dad died.
Overnight, Landon became a different person. A person I didn’t recognize. A person who terrified me, terrorized me, and ran me off with a promise never to come back.
Well, I’m back now. And I didn't show up just to go full circle.
Yes, it’s his property. His place. His life.
He’s the one who needs me – this glorified housesitter-catsitter thing I signed up for. If I have to, I’ll go crash on Steve’s couch and leave Landon to deal with his problems on his own.
“Now look,” I say firmly. “If you’re done with your little roid rage explosion, how about we try talking about this like two rational adults?” I square my shoulders. “It’s just a job. I didn’t come here to screw up your life, Landon. And I didn’t come here to dig into old wounds. I’m helping you, you’re paying me with room and board, and since you’ll be gone soon, we don’t even have to see each other. All I need is a week or two to handle my affairs. By the time you get back, I’ll be ready to leave.”
It’s a tight timeline. Two weeks to produce a novel, instead of a month?
Ugh. But maybe the pressure will light a spark under me. If anything, it’ll just give me more incentive to get it done so I can get away from this asshole as soon as possible.
I let Landon Strauss break my heart once.
I won’t do it again.
He’s still watching me with that same measured look. Assessing every second.
I feel like I’m suddenly in hostile territory, and he’s sizing me up as the enemy. Like he's back in his military days and I’m just another obstacle to overcome with tactical assessment and a little strategic finesse. But just as quickly that look fades, leaving him looking almost bewildered, and then annoyed.
He grunts something under his breath, then looks away, staring across the sand to where choppy waves have turned to lead under the storm blowing in, the sky all steel and silver-shot lightning.
There’s something dark in his eyes.
Something haunted.
Something damaged.
The boy I knew doesn’t live in this hardened, scarred beast. Not anymore.
Landon's fists clench. He drops his phone into his bathrobe pocket.
“I’ll think,” he mutters, a drawling rasp darkening his sultry, deep voice.
Then he turns and walks away, leaving me standing alone on the beach. The first mist of storm spray washes in, kissing my cheeks in cool beads that feel like the tears of the little girl I refuse to ever be again. Not for him.
I don’t know what kind of mess I’ve gotten myself into, but it’s already hurting like hell.
I almost want to laugh, give my throat something bitter and jagged. Whatever it takes to dislodge the lump forming there.
God, I really can’t control anything in my life, can I? Not even one confrontation with a wild man who still holds the map to all the wounded places in my heart.
I’ve never been in control of anything. Why should this be different?
Because I want it to be. Just this once.
Because my heart feels like it’s cracking, splintering in two, going back to a dreadful place I swore I'd left behind.
But this time, there's a difference: I’ve gotten pretty damned good at taping it back together.
4
Love to Hate You (Landon)
Somehow, I’m not surprised Steve’s still not picking up his phone.
He may be a complete prick for putting me in this position, but he’s got a sense of self-preservation.
It’s been hours. At least a dozen phone calls.
Half a dozen voicemails before I quit wasting my voice and just hit redial until I got sick of it, chucked my phone across the desk, and settled back in my chair to stare out my office window.
I’ve been watching her all day, catching hints and flashes. Glimpses of her moving through the windows. A ghost I thought I'd chased away years ago, who shouldn't even be here.