Moving slowly in case she spooked, Hunter tucked a long lock of tangled hair behind her ear. Her eyes widened, grew brighter, but not with fear, thank God. Taking a chance, he opened his palm against her warm, silky cheek and did more sharing. “I’m the same. You were right about that.”
Smug, she gave a small smile. “Knew it.”
“I was told many times by well-meaning people that talking about it would help.”
“Don’t believe it,” she said. “Anytime I tried talking about it, it was awful.”
He nodded. “I know.” Her skin was so soft, he wanted to touch her in other ways, in other places—but this was definitely not the time to indulge his basic instincts, so he ignored them in favor of something even more intimate, something that filled him with dread, yet also teased his senses: sharing with Jodi. “I think talking things through might be different with a person who really gets it. Don’t you?”
She surprised him by shaking her head and moving away. “No.” Harsher, with sharp emotion, she snapped, “No one gets it.” Her gaze clashed with his. “Not even you, Hunter. Whatever you did, or whatever you went through or saw, trust me—not the same.”
Curling his fingers, he tried to retain the feel of her, her warmth and vitality on his palm, yet it had already faded. Her rejection hurt him on many levels, and made him feel like a fool for trying.
“I’m sorry to hear that, Jodi.” Christ, he needed to leave. He needed that damned solitude now more than ever. “Thank you for dinner. It was great.” He saw the table still cluttered even though the dishes were washed. Hell, his dog was asleep in her bed. Under other circumstances, it might have been funny. Here, with Jodi and the topic they’d just shared, he couldn’t muster even a fake smile.
Jodi watched him warily, and with a tinge of regret.
Striding to her back door, he secured it, then gave a loud whistle for Turbo. “It’s time for me to go.”
“I didn’t mean to run you off.”
That small voice cut into him, but he couldn’t deal with it now. She’d given enough, he’d taken enough, and staying would only cause him to make another misstep. Neither one of them wanted that. “It’s dark and the air smells like rain. Lock the front door behind me.” The second Turbo showed up, Hunter made his getaway.
That’s what it was.
An escape from all the things Jodi Bentley made him feel.
Shit he didn’t want to feel.
Shit she didn’t want to share.
Not looking at her, he said, “See ya tomorrow,” and with Turbo’s leash held tight in his hand, he went out the front door, pulling it shut behind him.
Jodi hadn’t said a word. She didn’t have to.
Whatever she’d gone through was so bad it had no comparison? That was the worst of all...because he could imagine a lot. And all of it was pure hell.
CHAPTER FIVE
GRAY DAWN BARELY penetrated the still-stormy skies as Jodi repeatedly knocked. When he jerked open the front door looking a little wild with unkempt hair, dark eyes, whiskers on his face and no shirt, she knew she’d woken him.
Hello.
Since when did she notice male bodies with that kind of interest? Apparently, since Hunter Osborn. If she were honest with herself, and she tried to always be, she’d noticed more about him from the get-go.
With her cockiest attitude in place, Jodi lifted her chin and met his disbelieving gaze. “For a man who doesn’t sleep, you sure look like you were out.”
Howling and spinning, Turbo went nuts with glee. At least the dog doesn’t mind my idiotic crack-of-dawn visit.
After the heavy rains last night, everything dripped—the trees, the grass, even the scattered boulders. Didn’t matter. Like a woman on a mission, she had things to accomplish today, and the weather wouldn’t change that.
Hunter just stood there, six feet plus of loaded confusion, staring at her with blurry eyes, so she pulled the door open wider and stepped in. “I’ll make coffee, okay?”
He didn’t move out of her way. “What the fuck, Jodi?” He said it without anger but with a lot of incredulity. “You realize it’s not quite six?”
“Yeah, I know. I felt terrible after my stupid freak-out last night.” Still he didn’t move. Damn. He wouldn’t make this easy. “I want to apologize but I’m not good at it so I’m probably talking too fast and I figured coffee would give me something to do while you get it together.”
Scowling, he stood his ground. “Maybe I don’t want to get it together.”
“Great. We can have grumpy coffee together.” She smiled, hoping that would soften him. It didn’t quite work, but he did sigh and close his eyes, so she sidled around him, Turbo hot on her heels as she headed for his kitchen. “I thought of something else with Remmy and King, too. Since you’re the one who pushed all the let’s-be-friendly-neighbors stuff, I figured you’d hear me out.” Now that she was a safe distance away, she turned—and bumped into his naked chest. “Wow, way to sneak up on a person.” He was like a big, warm wall, and for the first time in her life, she wondered what a man would feel like. She eyed his taut flesh, that light furring of chest hair, and considered touching him, but shook her head.
“I didn’t sneak,” he said, still sounding reasonable. “You’re in my house. In my kitchen.”
“Yeah, okay. Don’t get territorial. Should I make the coffee or not?”
His nostrils flared. “Not.”
Did that mean he’d throw her right back out? “Hunter—”
“I’m running to the john. Don’t let Turbo out, but watch him so he doesn’t take a leak in the corner. I’ll be right back.” He took two steps, paused and pointed at her. “Stay right there, Jodi. I mean it.”
She lifted her hands. “I’ll stand rooted to the spot.”
“Good. Do that.” He disappeared down the hall.
When Turbo bumped into her, she realized she’d been soaking in the visual of Hunter’s wide shoulders, strong back and lean hips. His unfastened jeans had hung low and she’d seen a strip of black cotton boxers. “Sorry,” she said to the dog, kneeling down to give him affection. “I’m not myself this morning.”
Turbo tried to lead her to the back door. Despite her promise to Hunter, she looked around but didn’t see the dog’s leash. With the yard still dark, she didn’t dare let him out without it. “Just hold on,” she begged. “Hunter will be back soon.”
At that precise moment, he emerged, still looking the same, hair untouched, jeans zipped but not snapped, no shirt, feet bare, but with a leash in his hands. “Now you may make coffee.” He hooked the leash to Turbo’s collar, saying, “Good boy,” and making haste, man and dog went out the back door.