Page 24 of When We Were Us
Wren’s eyebrows come together. She glances at it, then back at me before nodding slowly. “Kind of hard to grocery shop on a bike.”
My palms are suddenly slick with sweat, and I wipe my free hand on my pants as I bob my head.
I’m an idiot.
But I am determined to not insult or scowl at her. I don’t need a repeat of yesterday, and I definitely don’t need another dressing down from my mother.
I just need to give her this bread, apologize, and get out of here. But nothing comes out as I continue to gawk at her.
So, I guess I’m just not fucking speaking?
She eyes me with a strange look, and her gaze drops to the bread again. “Why do you have a loaf of bread?”
I look down at it stupidly, as if I didn’t know it was there. “Oh, uh, this is from Mom. She, uh…wanted me to bring it to you,” I say awkwardly and shove the loaf at her.
She looks down at my outstretched arm and lifts her bags. “Kind of have my hands full, Hank.” She turns away and starts toward the house.
Are you kidding me? I bring her a peace offering and she walks away? Ok, I haven’t actually asked for peace yet, but it’shomemadebread.
“You can bring it inside,” she says over her shoulder.
I most definitely do not want to bring it inside, but as she’s climbing the steps to the front porch, my eyes are glued to her perfect, round ass. It’s like a homing beacon I can’t help but follow. So much for keeping my distance.
I start after her. When she opens the screen and pushes the door open without using her key, I’m up the steps and at her back before she even crosses over the threshold into the house.
“What the hell, Wren?” The bite in my tone has her turning fully to face me, and she isn’t even a little happy.
“Excuse me?” She blinks back at me.
“You need to lock the damn doors when you leave. It isn't 1985.”
She levels me with an exasperated look. She rolls her eyes and then continues into the house, letting the screen slam in my face.
I pull it open and cross the entry in four long strides, following her. She sets her bags on the kitchen counter and reaches into the fridge, grabbing and uncapping a water bottle before taking a long drink, her back to me.
“Did you hear me?” I come to a stop in the doorway and glare at her from across the kitchen.
“Yes, Hank, I heard you. Half of Timber Forge probably did. It’s fine. Thisisn’t Los Angeles.” She then proceeds to unload two bags of groceries, not bothering to look at me as she does.
It isn't fine, and her nonchalant attitude about it pisses me off. Someone could be in the house right now, waiting to attack her. She could have been robbed. My blood boils at the thought of someone getting their hands on her, hurting her. My reaction is unexpected and it’s unsettling, even to me.
“Timber Forge might be safer than LA, but we still have crime. There are plenty of assholes out there who wouldn't think twice about taking advantage of a woman living all alone at the end of a long, dirt road. Use your head, Wrenley.” I know I am being harsh, but I don’t care. She needs to take this shit seriously.
She spins to face me. “What the hell do you care, Hank? Huh?” she icily returns. Her cheeks are flushed just the tiniest bit of pink, and she is pissed. All flashing eyes, with her hands planted on her hips, matching my stance.
“You come here under the pretense of bringing mebread…” she spits the word with a gesture toward the loaf still in my hand as if she can’t believe that’s why I’m really here. She moves toward me, closing some of the distance between us. “And before you even set foot in my house, you start barking at me.Again.” Her words are pure venom, and even though I might deserve the tone, I don’t like that it's directed at me.
“All you've done since the day I came back into town is look at me with that stupid scowl on your face while insulting me. I’m not an idiot, and I can take care of myself.”
Her words hit me in the chest, and damn it, she isn't wrong. I almost apologize, but then my gut twists when I think about how easy it would have been for someone to catch her unaware in her own fucking house, and I can't bear the thought of that.
She has to see how dangerous this could have been. This house has been vacant for weeks. Anyone could have gotten in, and she wouldn't have known until it was too late.
“Just lock your damn doors,” I say, probably louder than I needed to, but God, this woman is maddening.
“Mind your business, Hank,” she bites back.
“You are my bus—” I slam my mouth shut and grit my teeth. I’m knocked back a bit at the revelation that almost came out of my mouth, as realization lights her face at the same time.
