Page 36 of The Misfits of Copper County
Outside, the wind howled, making the windows rattle. Both Teeny and I cocked our heads toward the sound.
“Just the storm,” I assured her, though my pulse quickened. “Anyway, ’nough of that, huh?”
Draining the last of my wine, I set the glass aside and, to my own surprise, slid down to lie on my stomach on the floor. Still a safe distance from Teeny, but no longer cowering against the cushions.
“You’re not s’posed to be down here,” I said softly, watching the firelight play across her fur. “But I won’t tell Brewer if you don’t.”
She looked at me with eyes that seemed to see right through me and gave her doll—I mean,mydoll—a lick.
I chuckled lightly. “Hey, I don’t recall giving you permission to touch that,” I said, nodding at it. “But God, you’ve got pretty eyes, don’t you?”
The more I looked at her, the less overtly threatening she seemed.
“You’re actually kind of beautiful,” I admitted, my voice dropping to nearly a whisper. “Terrifyingly beautiful. I wish you and I could be… friends.”
We couldn’t, of course. This whole situation would be very different if I was thinking clearly. But for now?—
Boots clomped heavily down the hall, and a body came skittering around the corner.
“Delaney,” a familiar voice growled.
I twisted and sat up, almost knocking over the half-empty wine bottle in the process.
Brewer filled the doorway so completely his shoulders nearly touched both sides. Melting snowflakes sparkled in his dark hair and clung to the scruff along his jaw. His eyes were shiny and a little unfocused, his cheeks pink.
Even from across the room, I could see the way his chest rose and fell as his breath came faster than normal, like he’d rushed to get here. But his urgency seemed to have vanished because his whole body locked as he stared at the scene before him—me sprawled on the floor in his sweatshirt and my pajama shorts, his dog on the hearth.
“Hey. Hi. Hello. I, uh… I didn’t know you were coming home so early.” My voice was embarrassingly high, and I was pretty sure I was blushing, though hopefully he couldn’t see it.
How much had he overheard? What would he think about the sweatshirt?Distract, distract, distract.
I cleared my throat. “Your… your dog opened the kitchen door and broke into the house,” I accused, feeling only a little bit guilty for throwing Teeny under the bus. “A-and stole my doll. And I…”
I trailed off in confusion as Brewer took a step closer, his eyes never leaving my face.
I’d been expecting him to get annoyed. I didn’t want to provoke him, exactly, but our confrontations were familiar. Solid ground I could stand on.
The look in his eyes wasn’t anger, though.
It was intent, yes. And it was hot—hot like boiling lava, hot enough to burn right through me—but it didn’t look like Brewer wanted to fight. It almost looked like he wanted to… to…
I swallowed hard, nearly choking on my own saliva.
Shit. I’d had too much to drink, hadn’t I?
I had. I must have.
I was incredibly, ridiculously drunk on a bottle of wine, and I’d been reading that romance novel, and I was having some sort of waking dream. Something like a fantasy but more.
That would explain why it looked like Brewer’s glittering eyes had fallen to half-mast and why he appeared to be moving across the living room toward me with that focused, lazy grace—stalking, my brain supplied,he’s stalking.
It would also explain why, despite my heart going a million miles an hour, I didn’t jump to my feet to present a bigger target—rookie self-defense—but stayed exactly where I was.
Teeny got to her feet as if to greet Brewer, then quickly sat back on her haunches, but I was only vaguely aware of her movements because the dog was no longer the biggest predator in the room.
Brewerwas the one I was focused on. The one I found myself tilting my head back to look at.
Good Lord, he was big.
