Perfect. Nothing sappy. Just what she needed. A little pulse--pounding action and horror.
Her phone buzzed on the coffee table and she hesitated before answering it. It was probably Shelley sending a well--meaning text, calling Knox a jerk and telling her she could do better. Like she had the entire drive home. Only it didn’t make her feel better. It made her feel worse.
Her phone gave a reminder ding and she sighed, snatching it off the table. The last thing she wanted was Shelley knocking on her door. A very real possibility if she ignored her text.
When she spotted Knox’s name at the top of the text she choked on an M&M. Lurching up from the couch, she held the phone in both hands as though it might suddenly fly away.
A single word stared at her from her phone. Sorry.
Why was he sorry? She waited, staring at her phone and wondering if he would elaborate. Her fingers flew over the keys, not bothering to wait to see. Why??
She waited as he typed back. When his words burst to life on the screen of her phone, she sucked in a breath. Open the door.
She bounded off the couch and stared at the door as if it were an animal that might spring to life and bite her.
Knox was on the other side of that door. Why? What did he want? After tonight, she was certain he wouldn’t be dropping by anymore.
She quickly typed back. Don’t think that’s a good idea.
Instantly, he replied. Please.
Her chest clenched. It was tempting, but a recipe for disaster. Her fingers flew over the keys. We have nothing left to say.
“Briar, open the door.” His commanding voice carried through the door. “Please,” he added.
Her phone slipped through her fingers and thudded to the floor. The “Please” was her undoing.
She moved toward the door, unbolting the top lock.
Her chin shot up. This wouldn’t be another booty call. She wouldn’t be used . . . or use him. Not anymore.
Before she could reconsider, she yanked the door open. Knox stood there in the same black T--shirt and jeans from earlier, still looking bigger than life and sexy as hell in the frame of her doorway. A plastic grocery bag dangled from his hand.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded, refusing to let the sight of him wreak havoc on her senses and undermine her determination to resist him.
He surveyed her, looking her up and down, making her acutely conscious that she was braless under her T--shirt. Her face burned and she blinked, hoping she didn’t bear the evidence of the chocolate she had been inhaling like oxygen.
“I came to say I was sorry for the way I was with you earlier and . . . to see if you’re okay.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “You wanted me to leave. I left.” Only after she had flung herself at him. Heat crept up her face and her composure threatened to crumble. “No big deal,” she added with a shrug.
“Yeah. Well. I could have been less . . . harsh.”
A short laugh escaped her. “Do you know how to be any other way?”
“I can be . . . not harsh,” he responded without the faintest smile.
“Not harsh? You can’t even bring yourself to say nice.”
He nodded slowly, scrubbing a hand over his dark cropped hair. Her belly contracted as she watched him. She knew the shape of his skull. The velvet texture of his hair against her palm and fingers.
“Well, I’m not nice. I know that, but I’m trying to make this right with us.”
“You can’t, Knox. It’s done. We’re done.” She moved to shut the door in his face but he stopped her, wedging his boot in the way and preventing her.
With a growl, she yanked the door back open. “What are you doing here?”
He lifted his hand and dangled the bag between them. “Dammit, Briar. I brought you this.”
She stared at the bag, able to make out the Ben and Jerry’s logo through the thin plastic.
She shook her head, at a loss. “You brought me ice cream?”
He lifted one shoulder. “Yeah. I’m sorry I was a dick. I didn’t mean to hurt you tonight. I wasn’t trying to do that.”
She opened her mouth, ready to ask him what it was he had been trying to do. Or maybe, more importantly, what he was trying to do now. But then something made her snap her mouth shut.
He held the bag up higher between them. “This ice cream is melting.”
She hesitated only a moment before stepping aside. “It’d be a shame to let it melt. We should eat it. I guess.”
He stepped inside, and she shut the door after him.
“I guess so,” he agreed, his expression unreadable.
An eruption of screams exploded on her wide screen. She glanced over her shoulder to catch Rick busting zombie ass.
Facing Knox again, she caught him looking in that direction.
“You like scary movies?” he asked.
“The Walking Dead,” she replied unthinkingly, glancing at that bag in his hand, feeling some of her anger slip away as she struggled to wrap her head around the fact that he had brought her ice cream. All her girl parts heated and quivered as she remembered what he did with ice cream last time.