You haven’t experienced the full Gayle yet.
Mac surveyed the contents of the refrigerator for something for breakfast, found nothing, and slammed the door closed.
She was wrong. He had. And that gale had destroyed everything he’d loved. He had no desire to experience another one. No matter how much he’d tossed in bed last night replaying the crazy woman’s antics or how often he felt the lightness of amusement bubble in his chest from the memories—especially over her calling him a curmudgeon and the exaggerated, grossed-out expression she’d used while saying it.
The corners of his lips twitched. Groaning, he rolled his eyes at himself and stalked to the coffee maker. What the fuck?
There was no question about it, he had to stay away from that woman. Last night she’d been on her best behavior, and he’d actually relaxed, begun to think she wasn’t so bad. Yeah. Then she’d sucker punched him with her “I’m all kinds of trouble” warning.
He didn’t want trouble…didn’t need trouble. Hell, judging by the way he’d assaulted Lance yesterday, he had more than he could handle as it was. How could he have almost hit his friend? No matter how far gone he’d been in his anger and grief, he’d never physically attacked another person unless it was within the confines of training or the cage.
The only explanation for his momentary snap was that no one in Atlanta really knew him, and everyone there respected the clear I-don’t-want-you-to-know-me vibe he gave off. Lance already knew every dark demon of Mac’s past and wouldn’t hesitate to bring them up…and there was nothing Mac could do to stop him. Add in the horrifying kick of attraction he’d felt for Gayle, and he’d, well…snapped.
He rubbed his hand over his face, then shoved a filter in the coffee maker and added three scoops of grounds. Nothing had been within his power to control, either, which had made everything worse.
He took the pot to the sink, filled it with water, and poured it in the maker. If he was going to get through this with any of his sanity still in check, he needed to regain control. He could prepare for Lance. Though it was the first time Mac had wanted to hit him, it wasn’t the first time they’d exchanged heated words. So he wasn’t going into that blindly.
Gayle, however, was a live wire. He couldn’t anticipate what she’d say or do next. She was anything but predictable. She was outrageous. Blunt. Crazy. And his structured life had no room for her disturbance, even temporarily.
Once the coffee maker finished its burbling, he poured a cup and glanced out the kitchen window. He bit back a curse. Speak of the devil and she will rise.
Striding across the field between the farmhouses, carrying that damned picnic basket, was Gayle in another pair of too-short khaki shorts and too-tight green tank top sans an overshirt this time, so her generous chest stood out proudly. Last night, the plunging neckline of the sundress she’d worn had tempted his eyes more than once. And that hadn’t been all that had tempted him—which was all the more reason to put a lot of distance between him and her.
On top of everything else he was dealing with, he didn’t need an unwanted attraction to an unpredictable woman, especially at this particular time and place. It was not exciting, nor was it welcome.
It was time to make it clear to her that he wasn’t interested in pursuing even a friendship.
He waited for her to rap at the back door, then opened it, but kept the screen door closed between them. Crossing his arms, he stared down at her. “What do you want?”
“Oooh. Curmudgeon McMudgeonson this morning, huh, handsome? Had a few hours to think, did you?”
Stunned, Mac’s arms slipped a fraction of an inch. He jerked them back up. She hadn’t blinked. Hadn’t even hesitated.
How did he deal with a woman like this?
Bluntly. Just like she did.
“I have,” he said. “I think it would be best if we keep our association to a minimum while I’m here.”
Way-too-enticing plump, pink lips pursed as she cocked her head to the side. “Why? Scared you might have some fun?”
What. The. Fuck? “I’m not on vacation. I’m here to help Lance train.”
“And if you’ll notice, Lance is gone. You’re going to realize he’s gone a lot and you’ll be sitting in this house alone with nothing to do.”
“I’m quite capable of keeping myself busy.”
“I have no doubt you can. But that doesn’t mean you can’t have a little fun with more than just yourself. Unless, of course…you like playing with yourself.” A mischievous sparkle danced in her hazel eyes.
Words left him. Vanished from his mind as though he hadn’t used them all his life. He opened his mouth, snapped it shut, then finally managed, “That was inappropriate.”
“Did I say something racy?” Her nose scrunched, then she laughed lightly and wagged a finger at him. “Shame on you, handsome. I was merely playing with words, since we were talking about having fun. You’re the one who put the dirty spin on it, not me.”
He didn’t believe a damn bit of that. “I don’t have the patience for your antics today.”
“Such a stick in the mud.”
Through the entire exchange, he’d studied her movements as he would any opponent in the cage, waiting for the first signs of frustration or anger. There was none. Her body was just as relaxed as it had been when she knocked on the door. What did it take to ruffle this woman’s feathers?
He jerked his chin to the area behind her. “You know the way home.”
Intending for that to be a dismissal, he started to back away from the door to close it. She grabbed the handle to the screen door and swept past him into the kitchen. Stunned, all he could do was gape at her audacity as she placed the picnic basket on the kitchen counter.
“I didn’t invite you in.”
“I’m not a vampire. I don’t need to be invited.” She held up a hand and lightly shook it. Dangling from her middle finger was a silver key on a large key ring. “Besides, I have this. I get to use it. Any. Time. I. Want. I thought this morning was perfect. Thought maybe I could catch you in bed and slip underneath the covers…you know…wake you with a very pleasant ‘good morning, handsome.’” Pursing her lips seductively, she winked.
Jesus. Christ. Mac swallowed, alarmed by the way his body responded to the image she’d painted. She was fucking with him, she had to be, and she was enjoying every damn second of it, while he was floundering. Never had he felt so outmatched by an opponent. Gayle just kept throwing one surprise punch after another, and all he could do was cover his face with his gloves and wait for the round to be over. Desperate to get the topic away from anything sexual, he cut his gaze to the picnic basket.
“What’s in that?”
She ran her palm over the top in a slow back and forth motion as she pressed her body against the side of the counter. “Wouldn’t you just love to know? It’s a surprise. One I think you’ll really enjoy.”
The woman was going to be the death of him. He pinched the bridge of his nose. When she chuckled, he shot her a dirty look. She pressed her lips together and twisted her face into such an outrageously innocent expression, a bubble of laughter tickled his chest. From irritation to arousal to amusement. All within the span of mere minutes. She was driving him mad!
“Whatever,” he said, exasperated. “Do what you want. I’m going to my room.” As he stalked toward the door that led to the hallway, he threw “alone” over his shoulder as a precaution.
“Aww, you’re no fun, handsome,” she called after him. “I had so many naughty things planned for us to do.”
