Page 54 of Romancing His Heart
“What? No, of course not,” she screeches.
I’m baffled. Honestly, speechless.
“Listen, I’m not great with feelings. I would have these, um, uncomplicated relationships with guys.”
“What guys?” I bark.
“Okay, dad.” Rolling her eyes, she continues. “Just guys I would date, but I didn’t always want to sleep with them. I mean, I’ve put out like fifteen books in three years. Yuck. I need to write epic sex scenes, but I can’t always visualize them. I mean, have you ever tried to have sex standing up? It’s not as easy as authors make it seem, and I want my scenes to be realistic.”
“I’m not following, Red.” Feeling a headache coming on, I pinch the bunched muscles at the base of my neck.
“Ugh, okay. I’ve been somewhat of a serial dater while I learned about different romance heroes. There was the grumpy boss. The asshole. The broken heart. The guy next door. A fireman. A—”
“Jesus Christ, Sloane. I don’t want a rundown of every twat wad you’ve slept with.”
“See, that’s what’s wrong with you guys. You all assume I’ve slept with them, and newsflash, I didn’t. Most of them, anyway. And the last one wasn’t even my choice …”
The words are out of her mouth before her brain catches up. But I heard every word.
“What the fuck happened?” My voice is deadly.
“I didn’t sleep with them. That’s why I have the dolls.”
That’s not what I’m asking, and she knows it.
“Sloane …”
“Loki, it’s not your business. Just drop it. I write at night, but I’ll try to adjust my schedule so I don’t disturb you. What’s your daily routine like?”
She’s so cold and distant as she speaks. I take a moment to switch gears. My brain is still murderous, and my body is out for blood. A rage I’ve never known is bubbling just beneath the surface, and I need to get the fuck out of here. I don’t know how to handle these feelings, but I know they’re not in line with how I should feel about a job. That is what Red … that’s what Sloane has to be. A job.
“We’ll figure out a schedule later. I need to go.”
“What? Where?” The fear in her voice rips my soul from my body.
“No.” I inhale deeply, willing the oxygen to cleanse my temper. “I mean, I need to get out of the cabin. We’re almost out of wood for the fireplace. I’ll just be out back chopping it.”
Sloane stands in the same spot as I put on my boots and coat. I hate seeing her fold in on herself like this. My bubbly inquisitor is a shell, grasping her elbows tightly at her sides, and there is nothing I can do. I feel volatile, and I need air.
“Sloane?”
She lifts her gaze slowly. Empty, hollow eyes meet mine. My nostrils flare as I grind my teeth. With hands balled into fists, my entire body is a hairsbreadth away from exploding with a fit of anger that has an invisible target.
“I’ll be just outside.”
She nods but still doesn’t move. I’m an asshole for not knowing what to do. I’m an asshole for not consoling her, for not pushing her for information. I’m an asshole with the social skills of a caveman, and I’m the caveman that will kill the motherfucker that laid his hands on her.
I hit the woodpile at a sprint with shaking limbs. My movements are violent as I split, chop, and stack log after log. I don’t know how long I force my body to comply with this manic rate, but by the time my brain has calmed, my knuckles are bloody, and the sun is attempting its early winter decent.
The feelings and emotions Sloane drags from me are uncomfortable. I haven’t known her long enough to have this strong of a reaction. My mother always taught me love is a choice, not some lightning strike.Love? What the fuck is wrong with me? I don’t even know what love is. Lust, it has to be lust that’s clouding my judgment.Lust.
How long has it been since I’ve gotten laid?
The fact that I can’t remember is depressing. I don’t even think it’s from memory loss, but maybe it explains my reaction to Sloane. Either way, someone hurt her, and I can’t let it go.
Dragging a log from the pile, I set it on its side and take a seat. My brain is calmer, but the rage is still burning, so I take out my phone to call Seth. He picks up on the first ring.
“Hey, Boss. Seriously, you need to let us handle this—”
