“What!” I batted his hand away. “It’s nothing.”
He stood there, unwavering, and leveled me with a look that said he had no intention of leaving until he got his answer.
The stubborn ass. “You were flirting with the bartender.”
“Liz?” He barked a laugh. “I don’t flirt with Liz. She’s been my friend since we were in diapers.”
“That was flirting. You smiled at her. You were laughing and whispering.”
“Yeah, she told me the guy three seats down smelled like cheese. I laughed because she’s funny and easy to hang out with.”
Long-time friend or not, I didn’t want to hear about how much he enjoyed another woman’s company. “You don’t laugh with me.”
“You’re not funny.”
I poked him in the pec. “I’m being serious.”
He scowled and rubbed the spot where I’d jabbed him. “So am I. Say something funny and I’ll laugh.”
“But I’m not funny.” The tears came again and this time, they just made me angry. “Goddamn it!”
He shook his head, coming closer as I furiously wiped my eyes dry. “You were jealous.”
“Yes,” I admitted. “I have some issues when it comes to men.”
“Let’s get one thing straight.” He clasped my shoulders, looming and waiting until he had my undivided attention. “There are no men. There’s one man. Me. And if you have an issue with me, we’ll sure as fuck talk it through.”
I dropped my head into my hands, the shame no doubt showing on my face. “Sorry.”
Easton took my wrists and pulled them away. “Should we talk about why you’ve been avoiding me this week?”
“You wouldn’t take me to your bed.” Apparently, there was no stopping the truth flood tonight.
“Huh?”
“You screwed me against the wall.” I flicked my wrist, motioning to said wall. “And made me come on that bench in your garage.”
“Three times.”
“Three times.” I rolled my eyes. “But you wouldn’t take me to your bedroom.”
He shook his head, blinking as he tried to make heads or tails of my nonsense. I didn’t blame him for the confused look on his face.
“Ugh. Never mind.” I threw my hands in the air. “I’m losing my fucking mind. Welcome to the mixed-up world of Gemma Lane. This actually feels like your fault. What are you doing to me?”
“The same thing you’re doing to me,” he grumbled. “Driving me fucking insane.”
I laughed.
It wasn’t funny but it was funny.
“I worked so hard to not be crazy. To not be my mother. I left her house and decided I would never be out of control again. I’d prove that I was better. So I worked hard and showed the world—myself—that I would never be her. I succeeded. I am a millionaire. I am in control of my destiny, and I am not the person she tried to make me. I am not her.”
“You’re not her.”
I shook my head. “No.”
There was a comfort in saying it out loud. And for the moment, that was enough to soothe some of my jagged edges.
Mortifying as it was, I was glad the person here to witness it was Easton.
“I’m sorry,” I said again. “Forget about all of this. Please.”
“I can’t do that.” He lifted his hand and cupped my cheek. “You said you don’t want to talk about it. I get that. But this is the second time you’ve cracked the door to your past, darlin’. I think it’s time to open up and let me in.”
“It doesn’t matter. The whole point of this rant is that I might be having a crazy moment, but my mother was certifiably insane. No one rescued me from her. So I rescued myself. And part of that meant shutting out the world. But here things are so . . . different. I can’t hide from you in my work. I don’t have work. I wanted to feel things and here I am, feeling again. It’s an adjustment.”
He studied my face, his eyes softening. “That goes both ways. You’re all I’ve thought about for three days and I know the smartest thing for me to do would be to walk out that door. But . . .”
“But what?” I whispered as his thumb traced a line of tingles on my skin.
“But I’m going to take you into the bedroom and make sure you know that the reason I fucked you against that wall and in my garage was not because you don’t deserve the bedroom.” He bent and brushed his lips against mine. “But because when it comes to you, I have no control.”
Chapter Eleven
Easton
“Morning, boss,” Rory called from the hayloft before tossing a bale down. “You’re here early.”
“Rory, what are you doing here?”
“Oh, uh, Johnson called to see if I’d cover his shift today. He’s sick or something.”
Sick, my ass. Johnson didn’t like Saturday mornings because he was usually at the bar too late on Friday nights. He’d probably shown up not long after I’d left to chase Gemma last night, then stayed until Liz kicked him out at two. This was the second time in a month I’d come to the stables on a Saturday expecting to see him and finding Rory instead.
If Johnson wasn’t careful, I was going to fire him and give Rory a hefty raise.
Rory was due one anyway. He showed up on time and worked hard. His attitude was unmatched. Hell, it was better than mine.
“When you’re done up there, come on into my office.”
“All right.” He nodded and tossed down another bale.
I left him to his work and retreated to my office. The room was cold, so I turned up the baseboard heaters before shrugging off my coat. Then I eased the door closed to keep the warmth inside and settled in behind my desk.
Doing paperwork and checking emails was not my favorite task, let alone on a Saturday morning before seven, but after slipping out of Gemma’s bed this morning, I hadn’t wanted to go home.
She’d been out cold, her hair spread across the pillow and her face burrowed under the covers. I’d lit a fire to warm up the cabin, then driven away with the image of her sleeping peacefully in my mind.
Last night had been intense. Finding her sobbing, breaking down, had destroyed me. I knew she’d been embarrassed, not that there was anything to be ashamed of. And as much as I’d wanted to dive deeper into her past, the moment I’d kissed her, the chance to talk had flown out the window.
The two of us had spent the night exploring each other’s bodies and the sex had been just as intense. She met my desire with a raging passion of her own.
That woman had me twisted as tight as the braid on a bullwhip.
So this morning, I escaped to the stables because the distraction of work might be my only hope of getting my head on straight.
After the night Gemma had driven out to my house, I’d given her some space, not wanting to come on too strong. Last night, I’d begged out of family dinner because I hadn’t wanted to make her uncomfortable in front of my family.
Maybe giving her that space had been a mistake.
But I was glad I’d found her at the bar.