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“Then why is he pushing me away and saying awful things?”
Leslie chuckled. “My guess is he’s afraid of how you make him feel.”
Skye thought about it a moment and then shook her head. “He’s not afraid of anything.”
Leslie grinned. “I’ve never been married, but I have had several long relationships, so I know a bit about men. Most of them would rather get shot at than talk about their feelings.”
Skye sputtered out a laugh. “So, what do you suggest I do?”
“Go to him. He’s fighting himself too much to make a move.”
“He’ll just push me away,” Skye said.
“Then push him back.”
Skye pressed the heel of her hand against her chest, where her heartbeat accelerated. She didn’t know if it was anxiety or anticipation.
“I saw the look in his eyes when those women walked in and looked at him like he was a monster,” Leslie said. “All three of them are bitches.”
“Why?”
“Because the man is scary. He’s very big, dark all over, has a dominant personality, and don’t forget the tattoos and scar on his face.”
“Do you think the scar on his face bothers him?” Skye asked.
“I would say yes, but you’ll never get him to admit it.”
Skye nodded. She figured that out. “What do you suggest?”
“Go to him tonight before he has time to build his walls back up. Take him a meal. You can get one from the diner down the block, and don’t take no for an answer.”
“That’s easier said than done.”
“I know. But you’re tough. If you want him bad enough, you can’t give up.”
“I won’t.”
“Okay. Why don’t you make an order, and you can pick it up on your way to his place?”
“Good idea.” Skye hugged her. “I’m so glad I have you in my life.”
“I’m pretty happy with you, too.”
Skye called the diner and put in the order before grabbing her purse and hugging Leslie again.
“Good luck, Honey.”
Skye grinned. “Thank you. I think I’ll need it.”
In the car, she thought about going home and showering, but she didn’t want to waste any more time. She second-guessed herself the whole way to his house and even thought about turning around when she pulled into his driveway. What if he pushed her away again?
“Come on,” she encouraged herself. “Stop being a wimp.” She grabbed the food bag and walked up to the door before chickening out.
She knocked and waited. When she didn’t hear anything, she knocked again. A part of her relaxed when she heard his footsteps, but her anxiety also rose to mix with the excitement.
The door opened, and there he stood, wearing jeans and an unbuttoned shirt. Six feet five inches, muscles that stretched the sleeves of the shirt he wore. She almost swallowed her tongue as her eyes ran over his naked chest. His tattoos were colorful and mixed with a small patch of chest hair she desperately wanted to run her fingers through.
She had no idea how long she stood there and stared when she finally realized neither had said a word. Her gaze went to his face to see a muscle tick in his jaw and his arms crossed over his chest. It seemed to her he’d already rebuilt the wall Leslie talked about.
