Page 97 of That Moment
The motion is deliberate. Taunting. Every inch of him flexes, catching the light in ways that should come with a parental advisory label. He knows exactly what he’s doing.
“Really?” I manage, glaring even as my pulse stumbles. “You’re going to go into a stretch routine while I’m trying to have a serious conversation?”
He steps close enough that I have to tilt my chin to meet his eyes. “Excuse me,” he murmurs, voice rough, reaching past me for the button-up hanging from a hook behind me. The word brushes against my ear, low and warm. I swear my knees forget how to function for a full second.
“You said you wanted me to put a shirt on. Just trying to keep you happy.”
I take a step back, trying not to melt under his panty-melting smile. “You’re really annoying.”
He smirks faintly as he slides one arm into the shirt. “That’s one word for it.”
I roll my eyes, forcing myself to breathe. “Fine. Pretend you’re not listening. But you are. Because I’ve thought about this, about us, and I’m not letting you bulldoze me again.”
That earns me a pause. His expression shifts, less teasing, more… cautious or even curious. “Go on.”
I lift my chin, trying to steady my voice. “You can keep pretending this is casual. That it’s just about the Mustang, or sex, or whatever excuse you need. But I’m not pretending anymore. You and I? We’re not finished, Scotty. Not by a long shot.”
He has a button through the loop, the corner of his mouth twitching like he’s fighting a smile. “You came all the way down here to tell me that?”
“I came down here to remind you that you don’t get to walk away just because you’re scared.”
“Scared?” he echoes, slow and quiet, like he’s tasting the word.
“Yeah.” I swallow. “Of me. Of us. Of being more than the guy everyone thinks you are.”
For a long moment, he doesn’t say a word. Just stands there, head tilted slightly, watching me with that unreadable calm that drives me insane. Then, because he can’t help himself, his mouth curves. “Your family is right, you know? You are the bossy one.”
My hands go to my hips. “You’re deflecting.”
“And you’re staring,” he says evenly, nodding toward my gaze, which, fine, might have drifted again. I roll my eyes and turn away before he can see the flush creeping up my neck.
“Finish putting on your damn shirt and listen.”
He smirks as he tucks it in. “Already am.”
The bastard knows exactly how to disarm me, just enough heat, just enough humor. It makes me want to strangle him and kiss him in the same breath.
I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Okay. Here it is, without the theatrics. Last night sucked. You were hurt. I was hurt. I poked, you detonated. We’re both great at pretending we don’t care until we do. And you were right—neither of us has said what we really want. Maybe we don’t even know yet. But I’m done acting like this is nothing.”
His eyes don’t move from my face. I force myself to keep going.
“I’m not asking for a label this second. I’m not even asking for an apology.” I swallow. “I’m asking you not to run. I’m askingyou to stand still with me long enough to see what this is before we torch it again.”
He buttons the last button, slowly. The silence stretches. I draw a steady breath. “Thank you for letting me say that.”
Something in his jaw loosens. He nods once, a small concession that still feels like a crack of light.
“Is there anything you want to add?” I ask, softer now, testing the waters.
His gaze skims my mouth, then returns to my eyes. “Not right now.”
It’s honest. It’s maddening. It’s also… him.
“Fine.” I square my shoulders. “What do you want to do then?”
He tips his chin toward the Mustang, voice low and even. “Let’s get to work.”
We work in silence. Well,heworks. I mostly alternate between pretending to focus and watching the way his forearms flex when he tightens a bolt. The air between us is thick enough to chew through. Every time he passes behind me, the heat of him brushes my back, a ghost of contact that makes my pulse skip. He doesn’t even seem to notice. Or maybe he does, either way, he’s just better at pretending it doesn’t bother him.
