I ripped my gaze from all that skin on display and banged on the window again. Much, much harder.
She awoke with a jolt.
Her whole body jumped as she clutched her meager top, looking so disoriented and frightened that for an instant I felt bad. Me. Feeling remorseful when she was being so recklessly irresponsible.
Her eyes found me. “You again,” she scoffed, her words muffled by the glass. “You scared me! What in the world do you think you’re doing?”
“What am I doing?” I repeated, flabbergasted. “Better question is, what in the world do you think you are doing sleeping in your car like this? Are you mad?”
“What I do is none of your business.” She turned her head, giving me her profile.
With a slow exhale, I placed my hand on the roof of the car and leaned closer. “You are camped in my yard, that makes you my business. Can you roll down the window so we don’t have to yell at each other?”
“Our yard,” she said, gaze on the windshield. “And you’re always yelling. Glass or not.”
My exasperation sparked. “Adalyn,” I said, and that word alone was somehow enough for her to shake her head and grudgingly press the button.
Once the window was down, she pinned me with an unimpressed glance. “So? What can I help you with?”
My brows shot to the top of my head. “Pardon me?”
“Oh, where are my manners.” Sarcasm dripped from her voice. “Good morning, neighbor. May I help you with something on this crisp and beautiful morning?” Her lips curled up in what was the phoniest smile I’d ever seen. “That better?”
I blinked at the woman. Stared, really. I was at a loss. Again. Never—not even once—in my life had anyone managed to unarm me like this woman did. And I’d met some sneaky bastards throughout my career.
In my silence, she pointed at my hand. “Is that coffee for me? If so, no thanks. Not only do I not accept things from strangers but I don’t trust you.”
I looked down, noticing for the first time that I had brought my mug with me. Christ. What was up with me? “I’m not a stranger.” I returned my gaze to hers. “And believe me, I wouldn’t care to spike your drink or whatever the fuck you’re implying. I’ve seen you unconscious and you’re just as much work as awake. If not more.”
“I keep forgetting how annoying your kind are.”
My kind. “English?”
“Pompous players who believe the sun rises and sets on them.” A shrug of a shoulder. “And by the way? You are a stranger. The only thing I know about you is your name and that you enjoy shouting at people, specifically women, while they sit in cars.” She lowered her voice. “Sounds like a lawsuit waiting to happen if you ask me.”
I narrowed my eyes at her. She thought she could deflect by insulting me. “I asked you a question.”
“I might have missed it with all the aggressive yelling and intrusive pounding.” Her lips pursed. “Actually, you—”
“Cut the goddamn bullshit, darling.”
Her shoulders hiked up. “I have a name—”
“Oh, I know that,” I interjected before she sidetracked me again. “I goddamn told you, Adalyn. I told you that you wouldn’t make it a night in that bloody shack. So tell me, huh? Why are you sleeping out here? In your car. I’m sure you have a good reason.”
She looked at me then. Really looked, the features on her face gentling, as if my words had caught her so off guard that her walls had dropped down. In that instant, I could finally see her. The Adalyn behind that bravado, pride, and hostility I didn’t understand and who managed to bring my own temper out. And even with her hair pointing in all directions and the dark circles under her eyes, it was impossible to miss two things: Adalyn Reyes was beautiful. And she was also a hot mess.
She was a beautiful hot mess of an inconvenience I wanted out of my hair.
“Sleeping out here is not safe,” I pressed, hearing my voice soften. “Or smart. It’s irresponsible. So if you don’t want to use the cabin you booked, then leave. Pack your things and go.” She paled at that, but I continued. I needed the message to be delivered loud and clear. “If you’ve been sent here to fill in some silly charity quota for your big-time club, lie. All right? It’s easy and all the clubs do it. Make up some reports or a story and go home. Stop the pretense and—”
She threw the driver’s door open, bringing my words to a stop and making me stumble back a step. She stuck half of her body out and pointed a finger at me. “Listen,” she hissed, letting me know all guards were right back up. “And listen carefully, you stubborn, cocky, infuriating, and exasperating… curmudgeon of a man.”