That stopped me cold. Shit. I had forgotten why I was here.
“I saw what happened this morning,” he continued.
No!
I closed my eyes in defeat. Most people wouldn’t have kept pressing, but he was persistent.
He must have seen everything. Somehow, this guy saw Dylan.
As soon as I got home, I was going to fry my little shit of a brother in a tub of boiling canola oil. But right now, I had more pressing matters on my hands.
Daydreaming is over, sister!
I had no right to be taking out my anger on him—he should be the one angry, he was the victim after all, but I couldn’t help it. The thought of dealing with the consequences of my brother’s actions again and the helplessness and panic gripping my throat drove me over the edge. I opened my eyes and flattened my palms on his chest to push him away. He didn’t even budge.
“Move!” I said in the sternest voice I could muster. My voice sounded rusty. Maybe that was why he looked amused—and, okay, sexy as hell—as if he was enjoying the show.
How could he not be angry about his motorcycle right now? Or the fact that he caught me about to sneak inside his yard?
Is there something wrong with his brain?
“I said move.”
He moved closer.
I inhaled sharply. He was so close. He sucked on his bottom lip, trapping it between his teeth.
What is it like to kiss him?
As soon as the thought crossed my mind, I killed it mercilessly. Squished the thought like a bug.
No way I was going to kiss this guy! Not his type. Not ever.
What was he doing to me? I was just angry a moment ago, and now I was thinking of kissing him. His proximity was driving me insane, and I wanted to step away, but if I did, that would mean he won. “Get your face away from my sight right now or I’ll—”
“Stare at it some more?” he provided. “I think we both established how much you like my face.”
Unbelievable!
“We didn’t establish shit,” I snorted. “But you know what? I do like it.”
His eyes glittered with satisfaction.
His smile looked smug until I said, “I’d like to smash it against a rocky surface.”
He lost the smile. And since I counted that as a win, I figured it was okay to step away, which I did.
As soon as my nose was far enough not to smell his scent, my brain cells started activating again. “Look, I’m here to negotiate with you,” I said.
He looked at me but didn’t say anything. And I realized as long as I was gazing at his vivid blue eyes or his sexy mouth, I couldn’t think straight, so I looked at his chest. But that was distracting too, so I looked down at his pants. But the—
“Negotiate what?”
I jumped at his voice. Blushing, I looked at his ear—what peeked
through his hair anyway. “You know,” I croaked. I cleared my throat. “About your motorcycle.”
When he didn’t reply, I looked up. The playful glint in his eyes was gone and had turned into danger.