9. Chase

NINE

chase

As we drive down the road, Eden talks a mile a minute.

It's something she always did and I find it fucking adorable.

I don't want her to be adorable.

I don't want her body to call to me like it did when I had her caged against the side of the shed.

I want her to be bitchy, mean, pushy, and the big-city princess I imagined she'd become so I can send her away without thinking twice.

Much to my dismay, she isn't following the plan.

"Did you see those two women fighting over toilet paper? And I'm not talking soccer moms here. These women had canes! I was waiting for bloodshed."

"Yeah, I saw it. They're also best friends except for when it comes to toilet paper, apparently."

Eden laughs, and it hits right in the center of my chest. "Look at that. The island grump made a joke."

"Ha ha."

"Anyway," she continues, looking out the front windshield, "when did you move here?"

"Three years ago. "

Right after I blew up my career and hardened my soul.

"Charley mentioned you coach over at the high school. How long have you been doing that?"

"Just the last two seasons. They've got some talent there. I try to help where I can."

"Do you like it here?"

"Yeah, it's peaceful,"—I give her the side-eye—"most of the time."

A smile quirks her lips.

She looks out the side window and silence reigns in the cab. I can practically hear the gears turning in her head.

"Have you made friends here?" she asks, but doesn't look at me.

"Sure. Nate's a good friend, and Ian Sterling, Lucas Raines, and some of the other players on the Bull Sharks. They all live around here. Or on the mainland."

"Hmmm…"

I glance over at her, and judging by the look on her face, there's more she wants to know.

"That's four."

Her head comes around, a quizzical look on her face. "What?"

"That's four questions. You got sixteen more if we're playing twenty questions."

"You're just full of jokes today." She clears her throat and looks away again. "Do you have a girlfriend?"

"No."

"Why not?"

I don't answer, just pull in through the gates of my house, rolling slowly down the driveway.

"Are you going to answer me?"

"Nope."

She lifts her chin. "Why not? "

The defiance in her tone pisses me off, as though I owe her an explanation.

The fact that it pisses me off just shows I give a fuck about what she thinks.

And I really don't want to care.

Parking the truck under the covered part of the driveway, I shove out, slamming the door behind me.

She comes around the truck, ready to talk while I yank groceries out of the back seat.

But I'm done.

Before she can say a word, I round on her, dropping the bags to the ground, barely able to rein in my temper.

"You know why I'm not going to answer you, Eden? Because it's none of your fucking business. You don't get to know how I spend my time or who I spend it with. You made that crystal clear the last time I saw you."

With her hands on her hips, she stares into my eyes and her jaw tightens. The wind blows the strands of hair that escaped her ball cap into her face. "I…" She swallows and tries again. "I'm jealous."

"Jealous? Of what?"

"The woman from the Red Parrot."

My brow furrows. "How do you even know about her?"

She looks at the ground, kicking at it. "Charley and Odette may have mentioned it to me."

I rub my hands over my face.

"Why are those fucking women being a pain in my ass?"

"And here I thought I was the only woman who's a pain in your ass."

I step toward her and she retreats, her back hitting the side of the truck. I cage her in and lean close.

With the wind kicking up around us, her scent surrounds me like a cocoon. Her eyes soften, desire bright in them. Lips parted, her tongue flicks across her full bottom lip.

That small motion is enough to scramble my circuits.

I want to strip her out of the snug tank top and little denim shorts that are driving me crazy and fuck her against the side of my truck.

There's something about Eden, always has been, that makes me want to possess and protect. I've always thought of her as mine, ever since the first time I saw her.

Part of the guilt I carry regarding my late wife stems from the way I've always felt about Eden.

I never cheated on Heather physically, but mentally, I'd been somewhere else the whole time.

But no matter how badly I want Eden, she's no longer mine to take. I'm not that kind of guy.

And even though I have to keep her at arm's length, I want to drive her a little crazy as well.

Let her see how it feels.

"You're not only a pain in my ass, you make me crazy. You're not just beautiful, you're my every fantasy come true. It's all I can do to keep my hands off you when you're so damn close."

Moving in closer, I lower my voice. "And there's no need to be jealous of another woman. Rest assured, Eden. You're the only one that plagues me."

I glance up to the storm-darkened sky before looking back down into her desire-filled eyes.

My cock hardens painfully behind the zipper of my jeans. If I don't step away soon, I'm going to do something that we'll both regret.

"We're about to get soaked," I say, my voice gruff. I push off the side of the truck and turn away from her before she can reply.

The only sound between us is the howling wind signaling dangerous weather is imminent. We get all the bags inside just in time for the bottom to fall out and sideways rain to commence.

I leave Eden in the kitchen to go check the generator, making sure it's ready for the eventual power outage. With the wind and rain already pounding the island, it's only a matter of time before we lose power.

By the time I get back, she's already put everything away and is gathering the plastic bags into a pile.

She turns to face me, her hands sliding into her back pockets. I sigh inwardly, wishing she wouldn't do that.

All it does is emphasize her breasts, and my willpower is weak right now.

"I wasn't sure where some things went, so I stuck them in the pantry." She shifts her feet and balls up the bags in one hand. "Do you keep these?"

I shake my head. "Usually I keep them for the elementary school to use, but I've got plenty already."

"Elementary school?" Her brows meet her hairline.

The way she says it puts my back up. "Yeah, they use them for projects or recycling where they can collect money." I fold my arms over my chest. "Why?"

"No reason. I'm just curious."

"Well, you don't need to be curious. You're not sticking around."

Her eyes spark with anger, but I have to admire how she banks it quickly, not rising to the bait I toss into the proverbial stormy waters. "Right."

She edges her way out of the kitchen. "I've got to go out and get my suitcase?—"

"I'll get it." I head toward the door when her voice stops me.

"I can handle it."

I turn back to her. "I'm aware of that. "

She twists the bags in her hands, giving me a narrow glare. "Why are you being nice?"

"I'm not. But it's storming out there, and the last thing I want is for you to be injured so you can sue my ass."

She opens her mouth to say something, but stops and shakes her head.

"Fine." She digs into her purse and tosses me her keys.

I walk out into the storm, sideways rain and wind whipping at me.

But I don't notice it.

I'm too busy trying to stop thinking about anything that remotely makes me want to be nice to her.

Like getting her suitcase during a storm so she doesn't get wet.

The more of a bastard I am to her, the more I'm sure she'll stay away from me.

I'll just have to stay away from the kitchen if she's in there.

My kitchen is big, but being in any enclosed room with her will test any willpower I have with her.

Especially rooms that have a lot of horizontal places.

And I'll try not to think about the fact that her tight, curvy body will be lying in my bed.

A few moments later, I'm a drowned rat with my clothes plastered to me, pulling her soaking wet rolling suitcase.

When I walk into the kitchen, her mouth drops open. "You're soaked."

"No shit, Sherlock."

She's opening drawers, presumably looking for a hand towel, but manages to throw me a look full of daggers.

"Last drawer on the left."

She moves to the drawer I gesture to and grabs a few towels before tossing me a couple .

"Thanks." I pull off my T-shirt and drop it on the floor with a plop.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see her gaze following my hand as I dry off my chest. When our stares meet, a pink blush stains her cheeks, and she looks away quickly, furiously wiping down her suitcase.

I smirk and take my time drying off, adding in a little groan here and there.

When she looks back over at me, I grin and she huffs out a breath, shaking her head.

"Thank you for getting that."

I grunt in lieu of words acknowledging her.

She clears her throat and looks away from me. "Could you show me where I'm staying?"

I rub a hand over my mouth.

When I told Eden—more like demanded, I guess—she was staying with me, I hadn't really thought it through. All I had been thinking about was her sleeping in her rental and the hurricane carrying her car out into the ocean.

Why do I have the feeling that I'm a dead man walking?

I sigh. "Follow me."

We reach for the handle of her suitcase at the same time. She frowns.

"I got it. I don't need your help, Hanover."

"Just trying to be a good host."

"I'm perfectly capable of handling my own luggage, thank you. I did manage not to lose it on my way here."

She puts her hand next to mine on the handle and yanks, trying to dislodge it from my grip.

Some wicked part of me wants to see how far she'll take this idiotic tug-of-war she started.

I yank back, hard .

"Give me my bag," she says between gritted teeth, pulling again.

"Are we seriously playing tug-of-war with your bag right now? I'm not in the mood to play games, Eden."

"Oh, really? Why stop now?"

She shoots, she scores. The woman knows me too well.

My lips curve in a smarmy smile. "Oh, sweetheart. I learned from the best; I'll give you that much."

She lets go of the bag and rubs her forehead, a sigh heavy on her lips. "Fine. Take it."

"You sure? Cause if you want, you can take it."

"Chase." Her voice breaks and, son of a bitch, it guts me. "Please. It's been a long day, and I'm exhausted. I don't care if I sleep on that couch or in the bedroom; just please show me where you want me."

I nearly bite my tongue in half to keep the automatic response of in my bed underneath me from spilling out.

That would be a fucking disaster on so many levels.

Instead, I nod and turn away, leading her to the one room in the house she needs to stay the farthest away from.

My bedroom.

At the end of the hallway, I open the double doors that lead into the room.

"This is a beautiful room," she says, walking across to the wall of sliding glass doors looking out over the now stormy Atlantic.

"I like it."

She turns away from the window and glances around the room.

Her spine straightens when her gaze lands on my dresser with some personal items on it and a pair of pajama pants on the end of the bed.

She spins in a slow circle, wringing her hands .

The fact that she's uncomfortable comes off her in waves.

I sigh and shove my hands into my pockets.

Okay, I'll admit my default mode when it comes to Eden is asshole.

But for some reason, seeing her uncomfortable in this situation isn't bringing me the usual fucked-up joy I get by pressing her buttons.

It just makes me feel disgusted with myself.

Her shoulders slump and she rubs her forehead. "I can't take your bed. Seriously, I'll be just fine with the couch."

"Yes, you can take my bed. I've got dibs on the sofa."

It'll make my shoulder hurt like a bitch for days, but I've been through worse.

"Chase, I?—"

"How about this? For tonight, you take the bed, okay? If you're still hell-bent on not sleeping there tomorrow, we'll trade. Deal?"

I hold out my hand, which she eyes for a moment, before slipping her slim hand in mine.

Touching her palm to mine is like being shocked. Dangerous and something I should stay away from, but I can't help but want more of it.

"Fine, deal."

Unable to help it, I rub my thumb over the back of her hand, just to feel her skin.

A small gasp escapes her lips, and she lets go of my hand.

Nice work trying to make her feel comfortable, you jerk.

I gesture toward the double doors behind me that lead into the bathroom. "Bathroom's right there and should have everything you need in it. And I'll just leave your suitcase at the door."

She nods, crossing her arms over her chest, hugging herself. " Thanks for letting me stay. I know it's the last thing either of us wanted…but I do appreciate it."

We stare at each other for several beats before I nod once. I swallow the lump in my throat and try to quiet the thoughts running in my head.

"You're welcome. I'm going to get a few things out of here."

"Sure."

While I gather some dry clothes, she sits on the bed and scrolls through her phone, twirling the ends of her hair.

She's nervous. On one hand, I'm glad because she's had me on edge since she got here.

On the other hand—the hand that still holds the torch for her—it makes me feel like shit that I've made her feel unwelcome.

"I'm going to make a sandwich. Want anything?"

She drops her phone on the bed and stands. "No, thanks. I'll make dinner tomorrow night if that's okay. I know it's early, but I just want to get some sleep."

"I'll see you in the morning then." I turn to leave, but she calls me back.

"Chase, we still need to talk about the speaking engagement."

Relentless. I bite back a sigh but nod. "I know. Tomorrow. We'll talk."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

"Night, Chase."

"Night, Eden."