The Next Day (Foothills Book 2) by Carrie Thorne (christmas read aloud TXT) 📕

his were… really nice. She sighed and brought her coffee to her lips again to hide her pining.

“Did they figure out what was going on?” He rolled up the exercise mat and tucked it into the corner. His expression was neutral; damn he was hard to read.

“Domestic violence was as much as they could say, and even that’s no more than a suspicion.”

Resting his hands on his hips, he stilled. “Shit.”

“Right? I was thinking of heading over, you know, introduce myself to the neighbors.”

“Don’t get involved with that. I’ll grab Asher and we’ll go later.”

She set her coffee on the kitchen peninsula before she chucked it at his head. Any more acid in her system, and she might boil over anyway. While distracted by great abs and dreamy lips, she was almost fooled into thinking he wouldn’t be like so many of the other misogynistic assholes she tended to fall for. “I’m sorry. I stopped by to see if you wanted to come with me.”

“What?” His brow scrunched, looking at her like she was a moron. Yep. Sexist jackass.

“I may have been spooked and grateful you came over last night, but I guess I should have realized you’d go all badass soldier on me and not let the woman-folk anywhere near the potentially dangerous situation. Did you ever stop to think about the victim involved? Do you think two menacing, pissed-off soldier guys strolling up to her front door was going to make her feel safer?” Huffing, she bit her cheek before she got too fired up and blasted insults.

“Whoa, wait a minute.” His hands hadn’t moved from his hips, his feet still planted on the ground. “Don’t put words in my mouth. If people are shooting guns next door, and the police only ‘suspect’ domestic violence, I’m sorry, but I think I’m a little better trained to walk into something like that.”

“Right. Sure. Whatever. I’m going to go pick up a pie or something to take over.” Her arms flailed as she paced across the room, loosely in the direction of the door, waiting to hear what pathetic defense he’d come up with.

Gritting his teeth, he closed his eyes and held his position to the silent count of five.

“What?” She fired at him, hand on the doorknob.

“Nothing. Can I go with you?”

“Fine.”

“Can I shower first?” he asked, picking up her forgotten coffee cup and walking it across the apartment to her.

“Yes.” She snatched her coffee, sloshing a few drops onto the floor. Too pissed to clean it up, she growled under her breath and stormed out.

Zane tossed on jeans and running shoes, still pulling his shirt over his head as he dashed out the door in five minutes flat. If she’d left without him, hopefully he’d catch her before she got there. What the hell was she thinking, walking into a hot situation without backup?

Calming the fury pumping through his skull, he breathed it out and slowed his pace down the stairs. She’d come to get him, hadn’t she? Like she’d called for backup last night. She wasn’t stupid.

When he reached the bottom step, he found her waiting with a travel mug for him. “Sorry,” she smiled softly, something in her eyes telling him she had no problem apologizing when appropriate. Hell, he doubted she had any hesitations in speaking her mind one way or the other.

“No, I’m sorry. Not to make excuses, but this PTSD shit, well, it sucks. I go from zero to pissed off in half a second.” He accepted the coffee, keeping his body calm and neutral rather than punching the wall like he wanted.

A sympathetic smile softened her apology further, a hint of a dimple making an appearance on her cheek. “Wow, I wish I could do angry like you do. As you saw, I tend to yell and stomp my feet and throw things. You turn into a poker-faced statue. I wouldn’t know you were mad except for that ticking in your jaw.”

He took a testing sip of his coffee. “Pick up a pie?”

Those lush lips turned up in a fricking gorgeous smile, pure ornery mixed with something else he hadn’t figured out yet. She went from pissed off to zero faster than he went the other way. “I don’t bake.”

“Not even cookies? I mean, if you enjoy taking baked goods to new neighbors, I’m fond of chocolate chip.”

Throwing her head back, she laughed and somehow moved closer as she smoothed her reaction. Looking up at him, not quite as far as most women as she was pretty tall, she bit her lip in a sexy-as-fuck grin. Like a damn magnet, he started to lean in, compelled to finish what they’d started last night.

Catching himself before he got too close, he stepped back.

A spark of confusion flashed in her electric blue eyes. Or was it disappointment? Something… something that knocked him back like a sucker punch in the gut.

He needed to make it very, very clear that he wasn’t looking for anything. Ever. Not even more kissing.

Fuck, had he ever been kissed like that? 

When he and Blaire had gotten together in college, he’d been inexperienced and a terrible kisser and, well, they’d figured out the sex thing quick enough, so the make-out stage hadn’t lasted more than a few dates. And he hadn’t bothered spending more than a night or two with the same woman since, and often skipped the kissing part entirely. Not that he was an asshole or anything, but… no, shit, he totally was. But at no point since his divorce had he even hinted to a woman that he was game for more than a casual thing.

Okay, maybe he would consider indulging in some basic fooling around like last night. Nope, not happening. With his only friend’s cousin? Yeah, let’s not cross that