I don’t respond.
Take that, bucko.
“I act like an idiot when I’m worried,” he says, making me frown. “You’re right, I was worried about you. Can you slow down now?”
If anything, I walk faster, alarmed.
I’m not sure about this…swooping sensation inside of me. It starts at my chest and scoops down into my stomach, moving things around. Things I wasn’t expecting Myles to jostle. I’ve never been jostled before and I am very wary about this man—who just poked fun at my childhood trauma so cavalierly—having that power over me.
“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not exactly the sensitive type. That’s one of the reasons I’m divorced.”
Oh, damn. Now I’m curious.
He’s divorced. This little nugget of information is like an untied shoelace. My fingers are itching to make a bow. There is no use pretending I’m not dying to know more about this surly, antagonistic man, is there? A few questions won’t hurt, as long as I’m casual about them, right?
My steps slow down, ever so slightly.
“Well?” I cross my arms tightly over my boobs to offset my concession. “What are the other reasons you’re divorced?”
Behind me, he grunts. Silence stretches.
“Before I started bounty hunting, I was a detective. Boston PD. Like my father and brother. It’s the family business.” He clears his throat. “My brother and I…we were spitballing about retiring early. Opening a private investigation firm. I was getting ready to file the paperwork with HR, but I wanted to tie up the Christopher Bunton case. A kidnapping. I…don’t know. This kid, the one who’d been taken, reminded me of a childhood friend. My best friend, Bobby. He was sick when we were kids. And he didn’t make it.”
I slow down a whole lot more, my arms dropping to my sides.
“Paul, the guy who hired me to do this job? We both knew Bobby. The three of us were best friends as kids and that’s probably why I felt…I don’t know. Responsible. When he called and asked me for help following up on Oscar Stanley’s murder.”
“Oh.” I let out an exhale that does nothing to ease the mounting pressure in my breast. “I didn’t realize. I didn’t think about how you knew Lisa’s boyfriend.”
“It’s fine. Anyway, this kidnapped boy looked just like Bobby. I got too invested. I stopped going home. This case…I was obsessed with it and that’s the kiss of death for a detective. When you stop being objective and let your emotions start making decisions for you. And I fucked it up. The case and the marriage.” He laughs, but there is no humor involved. “When I got home one day, the place was empty, like I kind of suspected it would be. Got the divorce papers maybe a month later. I’d been so checked out, I couldn’t even remember the last time we’d spoken.”
There are a lot of blanks to be filled into the story, but his curt ending tells me he’s said all he’s willing to say. “I can’t imagine you proposing to someone.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know. Because it’s a vulnerable moment. Waiting for an answer.”
“You’re right. I don’t do vulnerable well. Or relationships.” Once again, the silence drags out. So long that I turn and look back over my shoulder to see if he’s still following me. And oh, he is. His intense eyes are trained on me in the darkness. “That’s why I’m just here to work the case, Taylor. Not chase you down the beach while you pretend to be mad.”
Caught between outrage and embarrassment, I whirl on him. “Pretend?”
Myles keeps coming. He walks until our bodies collide, pressing chest to thigh, his mouth hovering a breath above mine. “That’s right. I’m calling you out. You couldn’t be strutting that ass any sexier in front of me if you tried.”
Red bleeds in from the edges of my vision. “In other words, I’m asking for it?”
“I wouldn’t lay a hand on you without permission, Taylor. You’re asking for it?” He shakes his head. “No. I’m asking you to stop offering.”
“I’m not,” I murmur, trying so hard not to be turned on by how he surprises me. How he’s restraining himself despite the fact that his erection is spearing me in the belly. “I’m not offering you anything.”
“Really?” he drawls. “Whose fingers are those unbuttoning my jeans?”
Those would be mine.
I’m literally trying to twist the metal button free of its hole.