CHAPTER THIRTEEN
After what feels like an eternity, we reach the front porch. Kellan finally unmounts and secures the bridle to the veranda, then lifts me in his arms again.
He pushes the door open and carries me into the kitchen, setting me down at the table. He leaves for a few minutes and returns with a first aid kit, a towel, and a bowl. I expect him to return to his chores. But instead, he settles besides me, his proximity too close for comfort as he starts to inspect my ankle again.
His hand feels rough against my skin.
As if he’s worked on a farm all his life.
For the life of me, I cannot imagine him to be a nightclub owner, the kind that parties all night, and yet his expensive car suggests he does. At the same time, it’s strange to think that a rich guy like him enjoys pure physical labor. It makes me wonder about his past, who he is, what he does.
“This wouldn’t have happened if you didn’t try to run from me. I told you to stay close,” Kellan remarks, his hoarse whisper sending an instant jolt through my body.
Of course he would think that.
“I wasn’t running and most certainly not from you.”
“Yeah. Ava—” He hesitates. Words linger unspoken.
The way he says my name—it’s too hoarse. Too intimate. It rolls off his tongue like it belongs there.
Like he owns it.
My body instantly tenses, and I curse my bad luck for not only propelling me to Montana and into the arms of this man, but also for bestowing him with an arrogance that makes him way too observant.
“Whatever it is you want to say, don’t,” I mumble. “I can’t deal with your kind at this point in my life. Not when everything’s finally going according to plan.”
“My kind. Really?” He finally stands and then kneels at my feet. His fingers begin to busy themselves with my swollen calf, applying a wet towel. I wince when he touches the sore spot again. “Here we go. May I ask what that is again?”
“Thank you for asking. I’ll be more than happy to enlighten you. You’re the arrogant prick kind that seems to think a woman’s legs are there to be pried open. And if you stomp on some hearts in the process, then so be it. I bet it comes with the job description.”
“You have me all figured out, huh?” He stops and looks at me, his eyes flickering with amusement.
I raise my chin defiantly. “You bet your ass I have.”
His eyes flicker again.
Big mistake to challenge him like that.
Why can’t I ever keep my mouth shut when it matters?
I want to take my words back.
Only, how?
“You still haven’t answered that one thing I want to know,” Kellan says. His gaze is dark, hooded. I’ve no idea what the fuck he’s thinking, and not knowing drives me crazy.
“I didn’t realize you had asked a question,” I remark.
“I never said I had. I keep wondering about something.”
“Yeah? What’s that?”
His huge palms go around the sides of my face, holding my head in place. His lips come close until his breath feels like soft butterflies against my mouth. He’s towering over me, his proximity unnerving, but what makes me hold my breath in anticipation of his next move is the way he looks at me through those burning green eyes.
As if he wants to kiss me.
I want him to.
I want him to so bad, I feel myself leaning into him—just for a second—but it’s enough to bring a wicked smile to his lips.
“That’s what I thought,” Kellan says.
“You thought what?”
He’s going to say something stupid that’ll piss me off big time. I just know it. And yet, I still want him to answer the question I shouldn’t have asked.
“That you want me.” His tone is confident and nonchalant, like there’s no way in hell he could have drawn the wrong conclusion.
Up until this moment, I could have denied it.
But the faux pas I’ve just made isn’t one I can take back.
Yes, I want him.
But we don’t always want what we need. What I need is someone who’s reliable, someone with whom I can build a future if I fall in love, someone who takes relationships seriously. Kellan’s the opposite of commitment and stability. He’s the opposite of everything I’ve ever known.
I could easily fall in love with him, but rather than my happy ending, he’d be my downfall.
He’s a beautiful distraction from reality with the prospect of having one’s heart broken.
I raise my chin and stare him down with what I hope are daggers of ice in my gaze.
He stays silent.
“All right,” I say. “Maybe I want you a little bit. You’re not exactly hard on the eye, and I’ve had a bit of a dry spot.” I pause, regarding him to catch his expression—a blink, a smirk, shock, anything to give away that he might be affected by what I’m saying. “But just because I find you attractive doesn’t mean I’m going to jump into bed with you. That’s all.”