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Ouch. Brutal.
“That’s… Well, I’m on a medical leave of absence from the team. I can go back anytime. I had a compelling offer from a man who begged for help for his brother. Help that I can offer.”
“I—”
“Hold on.” I hold up my hand to him. “Let me finish. You did the right thing by me and for me on two different occasions. I had the opportunity to repay that and wanted to for you. If you want to be an ass and deny that, tell me now. I don’t have any desire to be somewhere I am not wanted. I can go home very easily tonight and leave this place in my rearview.”
I hold his gaze and wait.
He scratches his face through a red-brown beard. It is redder than his hair would indicate his scruff would be. He eyes me, moving his hand down to his chin above his Adam’s apple. It bobs once.
He leans backward, and his voice drops to a whisper. “You shouldn’t have come here.”
The ice that pushes through my veins is shame and embarrassment.
Here I risked it all, only to be rejected.
Thrown away.
Not enough. Again.
He pushes up from the table, moving around the dog sleeping at his feet, and takes two steps before I begin.
“I thought you were everything you showed me at the beach. I thought you were kind and funny, protective and charming. I thought you would fight for what you wanted and never quit on yourself. I had no idea that you surrendered so quickly. A man who accomplished what you did folding under the weight of something that you could easily beat.”
I stand and whirl on him.
“Life is tough, but you’re tougher. I hope one day you remember that. I truly do. And remember this moment… when you forfeited the game of life, because you decided it wasn’t worth playing. You quit before you got to the line of scrimmage. Why? Because it’s going to be hard? Of course, it is. Anything worth doing is.” I push my chair in and move to my crutches at the front door. “Goodbye, Layton.”
I almost make it past him when he grabs my arm and turns me. His hands grip my face, and he crushes his mouth to mine.
His kiss isn’t tender. It isn’t slow. It’s desperate, a clashing of tongues, lips, and teeth. The metallic taste of blood mixes with the perfect taste of Layton Ranger. The scruff of his beard scratches my chin and lips. His hands are a little too tight on my jaw.
When anger and desperation are overtaken by something else, he pulls back enough to hold my eyes. “Don’t give up on me, Pix.”
“Which one should I believe? That I shouldn’t have come or that you don’t want me to give up? Give me honesty here. I deserve it. Don’t play games with me.”
“You scare me. I’m not the man you knew. I don’t know who I am anymore.” He looks between my eyes as one of his hands goes to my neck, and the other places one of my hands on his chest, covering it with his large palm. His heart pounds below his shirt. “I cannot resist you and I’m terrified of hurting you.”
I drop my head to his chest, not having words to respond. His hand at my neck runs down my spine, holding me to him.
“You’re too thin.” It’s not eloquent or even the right response to what he’s just shared. “And I’m scared of you hurting me, too, but I’m not afraid of who you are.”
He takes our joined hands and lifts my chin. He drops his lips to mine. This time in a tender moment.
Tender, that is, until the door opens, and a cacophony of sounds and a whirlwind of motion envelop us. Kyle barks, alerting us of a new person, the sound echoing off the walls and ceiling. He runs to sit between Layton and me and the man who’s just entered.
A fluffy dog barrels past Kyle and between Layton and me, nearly taking us to the floor since we have only two strong legs between us. Luna rushes to the door and to the man who stares as if I’m performing a sex act in public.
“Pop.” Layton rolls his shoulder, blocking me from his dad’s gaze.
“Layton.”
“This is Livy.” I turn in the circle of Layton’s arms, peering over his elbow.
“We’ve met.” The man walks toward us. “But it was under much different circumstances.” He extends a hand toward me. “Kimpton Ranger.”
My face flames, and I give up trying to look professional. I offer him my hand. “Livy Morgan, Mr. Ranger. It’s nice to see you again.” I point to the mass of dog who watches up close and personal. “This is Kyle.”
