Page 19 of Big Man Next Door

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“I could ask you the same thing. Why would you live here? This is no place for a fragile girl from the country to spread her wings. You're way out of your element.”

Veering my stare, I whip around to face him. Who the hell does he think he is? He doesn't know shit about me, and he has no right to tell me where I belong.

“Who the hell do you think you are?” Taking a step forward, my hands fly to my hips. “You don't know a fucking thing about me.”

“I don't need to,” he says, his tone cocky and thick. He holds the beer to his lips with a sneer on his face. “You have ‘small town flower’ written all over you.”

Slapping my palms down on the counter, I arch a brow. “I'm not a naive little girl, I'm a grown woman. You saw that last night, and just a few minutes ago.” Leaning over to him, I purse my lips. “And I don't need you telling me where I belong. I can take care of myself. I know what I want. No one needs to hold my hand.”

Ian's face tightens as his brows drop hard. “Right, I have no idea what I'm talking about. I'm just some guy who's lived here my entire life. What the hell do I know, right?”

“Well, you don't know me, that's for sure.” Crossing my arms, we glare at each other.

The air between us is hot, tense, and I can see the anger in his eyes. His nostrils are flaring as he inhales quick breaths. His fingers keep opening and closing around the bottle. His jaw crooks to one side as his lids drop to half-mast.

“You know what,” he says, standing up quickly. Holding up his hands, he shakes his head. “I got shit to do.”

Ian spins toward the door, and takes long, heavy steps. Yanking the door open, he glances back at me over his shoulder. “Oh, and you're boiling over, maybe you should take a cooking class while you're in town, too.”

Storming out into the hall, he slams the door shut behind him.

What the hell is he talking about?

The sound of sizzling, hot water creeps into my ears. Looking over my shoulder, the pot of water is in a full rolling boil, with a white foam on top as it spills down the sides.

“Shit,” I say out loud, turning down the heat and pulling the pot off the burner. The water splatters up, hitting the tops of my hands. “Ah, fuck.” The words come out through clenched teeth as I turn on the cold water and stick my hands underneath.

I'm frazzled. Ian was able to get in my head and mind fuck me. I've already had my entire family doubting my choices, the last thing I need is some guy I just met throwing the same shit in my face.

He has no right to judge me and the choices I make. He's not my father.

Ian is just some guy I fucked. His opinion means nothing.

I'm doing this for me, not for anyone else.

8

Ian

Closing the door to my apartment, I lean back against door and run my hand through my hair. This isn't how I saw tonight ending.

Dropping my head into my hands, I clutch my skull, massaging my temples. My muscles tremble as my emotions begin to run wild.

Why did she have to bring up this building?

The building doesn't deserve to be saved. It deserves to be blown up, but since I can't do that, it can crumble to the fucking ground for all I care.

The silence of my apartment is quickly doused as the sound of Heather's guitar cuts through my head. I can't stay here. I don't want to hear her, I don't want to see her. I just can't right now.

Turning around, I walk back out the door, slamming it hard enough to rattle the windows, and leave all together. I need to get out, to be somewhere else, to be anywhere but here. Heading to my truck, I fumble with my keys for a moment, trying to get the key in the lock.

I can still hear her guitar, and it's killing me. I didn't mean to go off on her like that, or make her feel bad, I just couldn't stop the anger from pouring out. This apartment building is a touchy subject, one that strikes a nerve.

My hands are shaking because I'm so worked up. Inside I'm on fire. The heat is moving from deep within my gut and spreading through my body.

Fuck it, I'm just going to go for a walk.

Tucking my hands into my pockets, the sound of her guitar fades the further away I get. It's almost dark, the top of the sun is starting to disappear beneath the horizon. Keeping my head down, I kick a crushed can down the sidewalk.


Tags: Penny Wylder Romance