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Angela
I closed the door,settling into the comfort of my low-slung car, and looked up. As Boone climbed into his truck my eyes shifted to his butt again. Then my mind drifted to what that marvelous ass would feel like under my hand as I pulled him to me.
By the time I came to my senses and put that question back in the box it had escaped from, he’d pulled away. With a quick punch of the throttle, I followed. I blinked too long, and my mind screwed with me. That image of my hand gripping his ass popped up again. I changed my mental channel to the big question.
Had I just seen a great act from the devil, meant to convince both Stacy and me that he was a normal guy, or had he changed in the years I’d been gone?
Before I knew it, we were back at the house. He parked, and I stopped alongside, shutting down the engine. The drive hadn’t been long enough for me to figure it out. Maybe Boone was both. Serial killers walked among us, because nobody could pick them out. The guy ahead of you in line paying for his groceries looked and sounded normal, but you had no idea what he did in his basement.
With that cheery thought, I locked my car.
“You don’t need to do that here at the house,” Boone said. “Lock it, I mean.”
“Habit,” I answered.
The big house was dark, and a light was on at Marge’s cottage. She hadn’t waited for us.
He kicked at a stick on the ground. “Want to come in for a hot chocolate?”
I answered on instinct. “No.” It was probably too quick a refusal. Maybe be-nice-to-Angela mode hadn’t ended yet.
He turned and walked toward the door. “Suit yourself,” he said without looking back.
How had I become the ungrateful bitch who didn’t even add a thank you to my answer? I obviously hadn’t remembered to pack my manners.
In a few strides he reached the door. “’Night,” he called.
Now it was too late for me to say anything. With a sigh, I looked up, searching for inspiration among the stars to quell my anger at myself as I started around the house.
My toe caught on something, and I tripped.
“Fuck,” I yelled as I came down hard on my knee and then my elbow. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” The pain from the gravel was instant. Curling up and grabbing my knee, it was all I could do to keep from crying out again. I was such a klutz, such an idiot.
Boone loomed over me an instant later. “You okay?”
My anger boiled over. “Like you care.” Even in the dim light, the root I’d tripped over was obvious enough if I’d been paying attention. “Sorry, I’m just angry.”
“Hold on,” he said.
One second I was on the ground, and the next he’d hoisted me into his arms. Reflexively, I pushed at his chest. It was a strong wall that didn’t give an inch. “I can walk. I’m not a baby.”
He carried me toward the door. “Yeah, babies don’t swear like that.”
“Put me down. I can walk.”
He leaned over a little and pulled open the door without letting me down. “Can, maybe. Should? Definitely no.” He flicked on the light and kicked the door closed after us.
After giving up the struggle, what remained was comforting warmth. With a different personality, this body was one I could get used to being up against. Already I was helpless to do anything but melt into him.
He set me down in a chair with a simple command. “Don’t move.”
It was so similar to what Kevin often said that I felt like shooting back “Or what?” For once, I held my tongue. Why had being carried mellowed me? It should have enraged me.
Boone returned with a red box with the wordsFirst Aidon the side. Opening it, he pulled out a pair of scissors, knelt in front of me, and pulled my ankle forward.
Pulling my foot back, I shook my head. “No way are you cutting up these jeans. I’ll be fine.”
