DANGEROUSLY SAFE
K.J. Wolf
Copyright © 2013
Chapter One
“I know you’re in there!”
Hannah Monroe pounded her fist against the storm door for the third time. The glass shuddered as she hit it, making her reflection vibrate in the dimming light. Her stomach growled, and she shivered. She wasn’t dressed to stand in the cold, hadn’t eaten all day, and her dinner plans depended on Chris. He needed to get his butt in gear.
At least she’d had the night off from working at the bar. Her boss, Roxy, knew about her hatred of all things Valentine's Day. She also knew why love was the last thing in the world Hannah wanted in her life.
Roxy had grown up in a violent household with screwed -up parents, too. Hannah's folks had ignored her when they weren't putting her down, while her father smacked her mother around until she hit the bottle. Roxy also knew about the attempted rape of Hannah and did whatever she could to make her feel safe, including keeping her from being exposed to romance's number one holiday.
The last thing Hannah wanted to do was spend her time watching lovey-dovey couples pretend to give a crap about each other. What a crock.
His truck was parked in the driveway, so she knew he was home. That man never went anywhere unless it was in his truck surrounded by all the things he thought he might need. Chris worked as a carpenter. Apparently you never knew when you’d run into a carpentry emergency and need your tools, stat.
That quirky trait might have bothered others or left them scratching their heads, but it was one of the things she loved most about Chris. He was dependable. Safe. He lived life the way she wanted to feel. Stable. Secure.
She listened for footsteps before she opened the outer door and banged on the interior one. “Damn it, Christopher Worth! Open the door!”
As she raised her fist again she heard the faint muffled sound of steps on hardwood floors. His pace sounded heavy and determined. Good , she thought. At least he wasn’t ignoring her anymore.
The door flew open with such force she hopped backwards. She could see Chris’s white t-shirt reflecting what little light was left, but his face remained in the shadows. Seconds ticked by while she waited for him to say something. He didn’t.
She took a step forward. “Hey, stranger.” God, that sounded lame.
“What do you want?” His voice came out flat and tired.
“I came to see you, Chris. You weren’t answering your phone.” She opened the storm door wide and moved closer. “Come bar hop with me, and maybe we’ll both get lucky.”
Chris leaned into the fading light, and he lowered his chin to look at her. His shadowed eyes looked glassy and cold. She fought the urge to cup his cheek with her hand. “Go away, Hannah. I’m not in the mood tonight.”
She took a deep breath and wagged a finger in his face. “You’re better than this, Chris. She’s not worth it. Stop wallowing and come out with me!”
His hand shot out, and he grabbed her finger. “I’m not in the mood, Hannah,” he snarled. She could smell the beer on his breath.
“Are you drinking? I’ll join you.” She yanked her finger out of his grasp and turned sideways to slink through the narrow opening at his side, sliding along his solid frame. Every nerve ending in her body came alive at the contact. No matter how many years they’d been friends, the thrill of brushing against his body hadn’t faded.
“Hannah.”
She ignored him, threw her jacket towards the hall closet floor, and strode straight back through his small bungalow house into his kitchen. The cool air hit her bare skin, and she cursed herself for not dressing more appropriately. Chris liked his house cool. Really cool. Every time she came over she’d shudder with chills if she hadn’t worn layers. The white tank top that showed off her red bra underneath and tight jean ensemble had been intended to draw attention to her assets, not keep
K.J. Wolf
Copyright © 2013
Chapter One
“I know you’re in there!”
Hannah Monroe pounded her fist against the storm door for the third time. The glass shuddered as she hit it, making her reflection vibrate in the dimming light. Her stomach growled, and she shivered. She wasn’t dressed to stand in the cold, hadn’t eaten all day, and her dinner plans depended on Chris. He needed to get his butt in gear.
At least she’d had the night off from working at the bar. Her boss, Roxy, knew about her hatred of all things Valentine's Day. She also knew why love was the last thing in the world Hannah wanted in her life.
Roxy had grown up in a violent household with screwed -up parents, too. Hannah's folks had ignored her when they weren't putting her down, while her father smacked her mother around until she hit the bottle. Roxy also knew about the attempted rape of Hannah and did whatever she could to make her feel safe, including keeping her from being exposed to romance's number one holiday.
The last thing Hannah wanted to do was spend her time watching lovey-dovey couples pretend to give a crap about each other. What a crock.
His truck was parked in the driveway, so she knew he was home. That man never went anywhere unless it was in his truck surrounded by all the things he thought he might need. Chris worked as a carpenter. Apparently you never knew when you’d run into a carpentry emergency and need your tools, stat.
That quirky trait might have bothered others or left them scratching their heads, but it was one of the things she loved most about Chris. He was dependable. Safe. He lived life the way she wanted to feel. Stable. Secure.
She listened for footsteps before she opened the outer door and banged on the interior one. “Damn it, Christopher Worth! Open the door!”
As she raised her fist again she heard the faint muffled sound of steps on hardwood floors. His pace sounded heavy and determined. Good , she thought. At least he wasn’t ignoring her anymore.
The door flew open with such force she hopped backwards. She could see Chris’s white t-shirt reflecting what little light was left, but his face remained in the shadows. Seconds ticked by while she waited for him to say something. He didn’t.
She took a step forward. “Hey, stranger.” God, that sounded lame.
“What do you want?” His voice came out flat and tired.
“I came to see you, Chris. You weren’t answering your phone.” She opened the storm door wide and moved closer. “Come bar hop with me, and maybe we’ll both get lucky.”
Chris leaned into the fading light, and he lowered his chin to look at her. His shadowed eyes looked glassy and cold. She fought the urge to cup his cheek with her hand. “Go away, Hannah. I’m not in the mood tonight.”
She took a deep breath and wagged a finger in his face. “You’re better than this, Chris. She’s not worth it. Stop wallowing and come out with me!”
His hand shot out, and he grabbed her finger. “I’m not in the mood, Hannah,” he snarled. She could smell the beer on his breath.
“Are you drinking? I’ll join you.” She yanked her finger out of his grasp and turned sideways to slink through the narrow opening at his side, sliding along his solid frame. Every nerve ending in her body came alive at the contact. No matter how many years they’d been friends, the thrill of brushing against his body hadn’t faded.
“Hannah.”
She ignored him, threw her jacket towards the hall closet floor, and strode straight back through his small bungalow house into his kitchen. The cool air hit her bare skin, and she cursed herself for not dressing more appropriately. Chris liked his house cool. Really cool. Every time she came over she’d shudder with chills if she hadn’t worn layers. The white tank top that showed off her red bra underneath and tight jean ensemble had been intended to draw attention to her assets, not keep
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