There were a lot of things he’d neglected while he busted his ass working and even more things he’d neglected during his year of self-pity. Now that his career was over, he needed to take care of those things and maybe enjoy all the stuff he’d never had time for.
As he hauled himself up the steps, legs shaking, he told himself he’d make the decision in the shower. Unlike the last time he’d thought about going to see his folks, he wouldn’t get distracted. No more time in front of the computer—he was about ready to throw it out. He could get another one when his mood was more stable.
It was time he stopped living in the past and moved on.
“I sound like a self-help book,” he muttered.
But he was determined, so if the pep talk was working? He’d pep talk all the fucking day.
One thing he hadn’t factored into his plans was the long, slim blonde who sat on his deck, her legs stretched out from under the hem of a short, skinny skirt, a pair of sparkly sandals wrapped around the most elegant ankles he’d ever seen on a woman. Even though her face was buried in a book, he knew who it was.
After all, Marin had the kind of legs he’d know from a mile away.
He started to itch—not in the I need to scratch way, but in the I need to touch way. His hands itched. His mouth buzzed. He felt like if he didn’t put his hands on her, he just might die.
She peeked at him over the top of her book.
“You going to come on up or stand there sweating to death?”
“I’m trying to decide when you became so comfortable at my place that you felt like you could just come and go.”
Lowering the book to her lap, she pursed her lips. “Hmm . . . well, that would be about, oh . . . twenty years ago.”
“I didn’t live here twenty years ago.”
“No.” She shrugged. “But I’m about as comfortable around the Barnes family as I am around my own. Besides, if I stayed at the gate in my car, I’d be recognized. Why are you such a grizzly this morning?”
He opened his mouth, closed it. He didn’t have any answer other than the fact that his nice, mellow mood was replaced by one that was anything but nice and mellow. To be specific, he felt jumped up and horny, to the point that he felt like crawling all over her, flattening that lounge chair out and then pushing her skirt up.
It was crazy. He was used to this gut-wrenching need for her—or so he thought. He’d gotten it under control but now he felt like everything inside him was screaming mine, mine . . . she’s mine.
And everything was telling him he had the right to go crawl over her, touch her, strip her. Fuck her.
Her cheeks flushed and she shifted on the chair. “What are you staring at?”
“You.” He shrugged it off. “You’re looking like a spring day and I look like I just ran a marathon.”
“Did you?”
It took him a moment to process that. “No. Eight miles.” Sighing, he cut a wide path around the deck, keeping his distance and focusing on the doors that led inside. “Look, Marin. I’m hot, I’m hungry, and I need a shower.” Wanna join me? “After I deal with the hot and the shower parts, I’m grabbing a sandwich, and then I might drive down to San Francisco. Why don’t you tell me what you want?”
Instead of answering, she asked, “Are you going to see your folks?”
“Marin . . .” He stopped at the door and dropped his head against it. The glass was warmed from the sun and he stared through it, the thought of the cool air inside beckoning to him. “What are you doing here?”
“You know . . . usually when I come by, you say things like . . . Hi, Marin . . . How are you, Marin . . . Want to come inside, Marin?”
Oh, he had a come inside question for her. He wanted to ask her if she’d come inside so he could come inside her and fuck her until neither of them could think straight.
Biting the inside of his cheek and hoping the pain would bring some much-needed composure, he wrenched open the door and stormed inside. Over his shoulder, he bit off, “Come on in.”
He thought he heard her huff out a breath.
He made a mental note and decided to be—what had she called him, oh, yeah. A grizzly. He was going to be a very rude grizzly if that’s what it took to get her out of there before he did something stupid.
He could apologize for being an asshole.
But some things . . . well, those would be harder to apologize for and if he went and put his hands on her . . .
His brain started to melt inside his already overheated skull.
The door closed behind him but he didn’t look back. He busied himelf at the fridge, grabbing a bottle of water. He was tempted to pour the whole thing over his head but instead, he twisted the cap off and guzzled half of it. “I need a shower. Unless whatever you have is urgent . . . ?”
Marin waved a hand at him.
“Good.” He barely glanced at her, knowing he’d just catch another look at long, slim thighs, delicate ankles, that beautiful hair spilling down her shoulders.
You’re into self-torture, he told himself, cutting off the thoughts about her slim thighs, delicate ankles, her hair . . . Fuck, that hair.