He arched a brow. “Yes.”
She felt warmed. She scurried into the kitchen and grabbed the plate of quiche that she had put on for herself. Just in case. That was of course prior to realizing that there had been a misunderstanding between the two of them.
“Would you like me to take you out to dinner?” he asked.
“I... Why?”
“I’m trying to figure you out, Violet Donnelly. I’ll be perfectly honest with you. I am used to a different sort of... A different sort of dynamic.”
“What dynamic is that?”
He took a breath. “Okay. So I’m going to be as honest with you as possible. I like to go out. I like to look around the room, see which woman catches my eye. And then I like to approach that woman, make some quick conversation and get her back to my place. That’s what I like.”
“Oh,” she said, feeling deflated.
“But meeting you was different. I walked in, and there you were. I wasn’t looking for anything, and there you were. I felt attraction to you instantly. So if I have to work a little harder...then I will.”
It was not a romantic thing to say. Not at all. It wasn’t a crush, and it wasn’tliking. It was frank. Physical. It was probably closer to the truth of what her body wanted. It was just that she didn’t have the vocabulary... No. It wasn’t even that. It was that she was ashamed. Because she was still trying to be good. And she was trying to reshape and redistribute all of this until she could find a way to make it okay. But Wolf Garrett didn’t live here.
He wasn’t going to live here.
He had a ranching spread. And sure, he had family here; he might come back and visit. But there was no possibility of a future between the two of them, geographically if for no other reason. Wanting him—she was going to go ahead and try to be honest with herself—was futile. It either had to be about right now, or she had to go ahead and nip it in the bud. But he was not the kind of man you just kissed in a hallway and left it at that.
He wanted something more from her.
And the truth was she wanted the same thing from him. Even with sex being as fuzzy and theoretical to her as it was, she knew what he wanted. It was just she had to decide if it was something that she could do. Emotionally. If that was how she wanted to...have her first time.
“How long are you going to be here?”
“Two weeks.”
Two weeks. Two weeks.
It scared her.
Two weeks.
“Okay,” she said, taking a bite of her quiche.
“Okay what?”
She let out a frustrated breath. “I don’t actually know. I don’t know.”
“It’s okay.” He got up and walked over to her end of the table. “Thank you, for breakfast.” He pinched her chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilted her face upward, and she felt herself get all hot. Because his body was so close to her, and she could imagine him naked. She could imagine him putting his hands on her. She could imagine climbing on top of him. And it made her want to cry, because it was all so intense. But that raw freedom that she had experienced when they were out by the beach came back to her, too.
These rules that she was grappling with were self-imposed. She had put them up to protect herself. She had decided they were reasonable because she had wanted to keep herself safe. But was she really going to live this way for her entire life? She couldn’t see it being practical.
“Better get to work.”
And he left her sitting there, breathless and unsure. Of what she was going to do next. Of all that she could unlearn in the next space of time.
And whether or not she would hate herself more if he broke her heart, or if she never took the chance on having this experience.
And she had a feeling that this was not something she was going to solve over quiche.
She had a bad feeling it was something she wasn’t going to solve. She was just going to have to make one choice or the other and deal with the consequences.
And she didn’t like that at all.