Page 51 of Honk if You Love Real Men (Tempting SEALs 1)

“You have a right be be messed up. What you went through would mess anyone up.”

“And so I guess I have a right to tie you up too?”

“I don’t mind.”

“And why is that, Trent? Why do you let me do whatever I want?”

He took a step toward her, wanting her to see the answer in his eyes. “Because I’ve always cared for you. We go back way too many years for me to turn my back on you now.”

“Then there’s something wrong with you,” she snapped. “A normal man would have told me where to go that first night.”

“Why? So you could seek out some other man you felt ‘comfortable’ with? You might have broken my heart all those years ago, Bree, but I wasn’t about to let you do that.”

And he could see the anger drain away, see the sadness that once again entered her eyes. “Well you don’t have to worry about that anymore, Trent. I won’t be trying this again for a very long time.”

“No, Bree. That’s not the solution. You should keep working at it.”

“With you?”

“Yes, with me.”

“So I could leave you once again?”

“It might not end up that way.”

“Yes, Trent, it would,” she said softly, her eyes brimming with tears.

Damn it, he hated to see her cry. Hated to see the pain in her eyes. It made him want to pound his fists. “Please, don’t go.”

But she closed the distance between them, lifting up on bare toes to kiss his cheek. “Good-bye, Trent. I can’t thank you enough for putting up with my nonsense the last couple of days.”

“No,” he said, reaching for her shoulders. “Don’t go.”

“I have to,” she said, turning and scooping up her clothes and shoes before walking away.

Chapter Six

And that was how she left him, the image of Trent standing there burned into Bree’s mind. He’d tried to talk her out of it while she’d waited for a cab, but she’d put him off. She’d just wanted to leave California behind . . . and Trent.

So she ignored his calls. If anything, the longer she was away from him, the more she realized she had been right to take off. It had been a stupid idea to go and see him, and while she appreciated all he’d done, it was better she’d ended it where she had. Obviously, she was beyond repair.

So she sank into routine. Work during the days. Sleep at night. A troubled sleep, one that kept her awake most of the night.

And eventually he stopped calling.

How screwed up was that? All she’d want

ed him to do was stop calling her, and yet when he did, she sank into an even worse depression. That depression forced her to seek out professional help . . . again. Only this time she chose a different type of therapist, a woman whom Bree immediately liked. And as the days passed, she began to have hope.

She was just returning from one of those sessions when she saw the envelope. Actually, she almost missed it, only noticing the thing when she went to push on her door, her hand landing right smack in the middle of it.

How odd.

She took the thing down, the thumbtack that’d held it in place falling to the ground. She didn’t notice. She was too busy looking at the handwriting on the front. Years of going to school together allowed her to recognize who’d written her name.

Trent.

Her heart began to pound.

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