My mouth opens and closes.
“You’re such an asshole, you know that?” I say through gritted teeth.
“Why? Because I just told you that I want you?”
“No, because you’re implying that I could be just another one of your conquests. That’s all I am for you, right?” My eyes are ablaze as I step forward and poke a finger into his hard chest. “Did you ever ask those women whether they liked you?”
He steps back and smiles at me, the kind of smile I wish I could smack right off his face. ”No need to. Their screams always said it all.”
With that, he heads back to the horses, whistling for Sniper to follow after him. The dog doesn’t. Panting, he sits on his haunches and looks up at me, waiting.
“Now, that’s a good boy,” I say, smiling, and pat his head. “I don’t like him. And I bet you don’t like him either.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
There’s a difference between longing and living out a fantasy. There’s also a difference between desiring intimacy with someone who’s your dream guy and wanting something that you know is bad for you. Dream guy or not, I know it can and won’t end well with Kellan.
I stand rooted to the spot for a good five minutes before I decide that whoever Kellan is, he’s definitely not someone you want to let too close to you or your heart.
For one, he’s too good-looking. Beautiful people always get away with anything.
And second, while I’ve met my fair share of bad boys, and, as such, am rather familiar with their game, Kellan takes it to a whole new level.
He’s too arrogant for his own sake.
He behaves like every woman is fair game and the world is his playground. If he thinks he only has to ask and I’ll jump on his bandwagon, he’s mistaken. The fact that he wants me and makes no secret out of us never being more than just a fling makes him a whole different kind of dangerous.
It’s all too tempting.
I don’t know how to deal with someone like him.
Keeping away from him is no longer just an option. It’s become a priority because there’s no way I’ll ever turn into one of the women he’s used and left behind.
“I’m heading back inside,” I call out and begin my ascent before he can stop me.
“What about work?” he shouts.
“You can do it yourself. I have no intention of staying.”
“Fine. Suit yourself. Let’s see how far you get without me.”
Wow.
The guy really assumes I’ll need him just because I’m a woman.
Talk about being sexist.
“Condescending jerk,” I say and head in the direction from where we came.
“I heard you,” Kellan yells after me.
“I hope so.” I turn back to him, my gaze boiling. “Because that’s my honest opinion of you.” I continue walking with Sniper glued to my ankle, glancing over my shoulder a few times to see whether Kellan’s coming after me. He makes no attempt to follow.
That’s fine by me.
Sniper is a much better companion anyway.
The house is a long way up the hill. From where I’m standing, I can’t even see it, but I’m confident it’ll barely take me ten minutes to reach it, fifteen minutes tops. I huff and groan as I trudge through the mud, and realize climbing up a hill is way worse than climbing down. I’ve barely managed to walk a few yards when a gust of wind whips against my face. I lose my equilibrium for a moment and tumble backward.
I fall on my backside, and a scream escapes my throat.
The pain shooting through my ankle is excruciating. My vision blurs. I bite my lip hard to stifle the yelp lodged deep in my throat. Sniper barks once, then twice, and then he runs off, probably frightened by my scream.
“Fuck. Fuck,” I mutter as I try to scramble to my feet but find that I can’t.
My hands go to my throbbing ankle. It burns when I touch it.
“Are you okay?”
Kellan’s voice reaches me a moment before he does. I nod and look up at him through the curtain of unwanted tears clouding my vision. Sniper barks again. He’s standing next to Kellan, eyeing us both.
“Good boy,” Kellan says to the dog. “He came to get me.”
“I’m fine,” I squeeze through gritted teeth, even though I’m anything but. The throbbing pain in my ankle shoots up to my knee in long pangs. In spite of the wind, my back is slick with sweat. I broke my arm when I was five and had my tonsils removed at nine, so I know what physical pain feels like. However, this hurts so much, I might just pass out.
My ankle feels like it’s been run over by a truck.
“I’m fine, “ I say again. Pushing up on my arm, I try to stand—to no avail.
“Let me see.” Before I can protest, Kellan’s pulled off my boot and his fingers are on my bare skin, inspecting, prodding.
His touch is torture.
“It hurts,” I choke out.
“I hope it’s not broken,” he mutters.