Good one, play dumb. He won’t see right through that.
His expression softened by another degree, and he drew in even closer, the scent of clean skin and woodsy spice melting something deep within her. “Is my staying really that much of a problem for you?”
“I just…” She released an exasperated sigh and allowed the strain in her stiff shoulders to go.
As if he sensed her willingness to explain, he took his hand off her, giving her the distance she needed.
“You didn’t do anything wrong.” She blinked down at her hands. Even his interrupting her run wasn’t reason enough to drop her manners. Something he correctly pointed out she did a lot around him. “I know I’m being unfair, but having been in Harlow for all of five minutes, I’m sure you’ve heard my plate’s full without having you looming over my shoulder.”
He took a drawn breath, his broad chest becoming a whole lot broader. “You mean the stuff with your ex?”
She scoffed, even though she was a little thrown that he already knew about Blaine. A car zoomed past, the dinged light blue one that belonged to Mrs. Byrne, who lived just down the road from Sarah.
She wondered whether this encounter would gain top billing in the Harlow rumor mill by evening. “If by ‘stuff’ you mean my ex-fiancé leaving me for someone else and then getting himself shot—then yeah, that would be one reason.”
Two lines scored the space between his brows, forming a frown. “Can’t be easy being on the outside of that.”
She pulled away, jamming one headphone back into her ear, having expected him to give her hell about her misfortune, and somewhat disappointed that he didn’t. “I should keep running.”
“You regret sleeping with me.”
Though she already had her back to him, his direct tone had her stopping in her tracks. His statement ignored her one about wanting to leave. Still, it cut to the core of something she hadn’t yet decided on.
Do I regret sleeping with him?
Her body warmed at the memory of the night. That he didn’t make a secret of wanting her again. That she wanted him too. But again, she didn’t know.
Taking Dean home with her had been one of her wildest decisions and felt like one of her most pointless. Had she been longing for a distraction? Yes, and he’d given her one. At least before her plan for distraction got shot to literal pieces. Would she gain much from inviting Dean back into her life? No, just the opposite.
Once was enough. More than that would inch her closer to disaster.
She turned back to him and released an audible sigh. “I’m not having a heart-to-heart with you about my ex, okay?”
“Then what will you have a heart-to-heart with me over?” The lines between his brow smoothed out, and his eyes seemed to take on new light, as though even with the weight of his question, he sought to lighten her mood.
She turned away again. Maybe he did mean well, but she didn’t owe it to him to reciprocate. “Let it go, Dean.”
“Then at least tell me you don’t regret what we did.”
She paused, growling under her breath, though maybe out of denial that he seemed to genuinely care whether she regretted her choice. “That’s blackmail.”
So why aren’t I leaving already?
“Sarah.” His attention skimmed over her face before latching on to her gaze, his unwavering stare hinting that he saw her dilemma over leaving, or perhaps having to ease his doubts over her regrets… or both… “That night at the soiree. You’ve never done anything like that before, have you?”
Instant cold hit her core. His stare, of course, noticing so much more than she gave him credit for. Because that would be just her luck. And even that knowledge didn’t stop her from trying to deny everything yet again. “That’s not. I—”
“Your hands shook the entire drive over.” He took a giant step closer and crowded her space, though for a big guy, he had an ability to make his voice impossibly small. Somehow his gentle tone soothed and hurt her all at once. “I know what I saw. And as always, even as you say one thing, your body says something else altogether.”
He lifted his hand and brushed a strand of hair from her barely covered shoulder. Her cheeks burned, and she fought not to look away. He’d noticed her nerves. And his comment about her body… what else had he noticed that night… or for that matter, every other interaction since?
His hand stayed on her shoulder now, searing her with the heat of his palm in collusion with the sultry weather around her. His touch once again awakened senses she shouldn’t have wanted roused.
His thumb stroked the dent just above her collarbone, slow and far too tantalizing circles that pulled a sigh from her, changing her breath to something shallow, soft, and compliant.
“I had a bad night, and you were there.” The huskiness in her broken whisper didn’t fit with the unaffected confidence she sought to show. “Don’t read too much into it.”
She wanted to pull away, but her legs still refused to move. Maybe this was what he meant about her body betraying her.