And that kiss had just proved it.
The only way Abby was ever going to move forward with her life was to stop revisiting her past. And Tanner was a part of her past that she most definitely needed to steer clear of.
Which was going to be a little tricky since that one kiss had catapulted him into something much more recent. Something that felt a whole hell of a lot like her present.
CHAPTER 6
T o-go bags in hand, Tanner walked up the front steps of his house, frowning when he saw Colin’s Mercedes parked out back. The game should have still been in full swing at the Spigot—just like Colin’s meeting with Ferris.
He opened the front door, and for the first time since acquiring roommates he didn’t seem to mind the piles of crap or muddy paw prints all over his handcrafted stone floor. He was too busy thinking about Abby in her thin, wet shirt, no bra, and itty-bitty shorts. The galoshes had been an adorable bonus, coming up well past her knees as though she were trudging through the swamplands.
And those lips, man, he’d renovate her entire dump of a house from top to bottom if it meant spending more time with her mouth fused to his.
Tanner shut the door behind him, and the sound of claws on the floor was the only warning before a warm body plowed into his legs.
Part wolfhound, part bigfoot, and a complete pain in Tanner’s ass, Wrecking Ball, his dad’s dumb-as-dirt mutt, was so excited Tanner was home that he wagged himself all over Tanner’s entryway, leaving a yellow happy trail three feet long.
“Outside,” Tanner scolded, pointing. When Wreck only panted joyfully, Tanner dropped a pile of paper towels over the puddle, which he left by the door for just such an occasion. “You do your business outside, got it?”
Wreck barked. Tanner cut him a hard glare, then, shucking his wet boots, made his way to the kitchen—the dog followed, his nails tapping the slate floor and his big, wiry tail wagging so hard he knocked over everything he passed. Including a wadded-up receipt that sat on the entry table, which he promptly ate.
Tanner dropped the Chinese food on the counter and poked his head into the family room to find Gus and Colin drinking beer and watching the game.
Gus was in his ratty old recliner, socked feet kicked up on the footrest and his silver hair sticking up in the back as though he’d slept right there all day and hadn’t budged. Which he probably hadn’t. Gus had arrived with a suitcase, his dog, a bad attitude, and that damn chair. The only thing that had budged since move-in day was the dog.
Colin, on the other hand, was sprawled out on the couch, his cold beer sweating on the leather armrest, his work boots scuffing up the coffee table. Wreck jumped up beside him, licked himself a few times, then curled up in Tanner’s spot, tongue hanging out.
“Dinner’s in the kitchen.” Tanner met his dad’s gaze. His wiry brows puckered, making it clear that he was in a mood. “So eat it in the kitchen and save some for me. I’ll be down in a minute.”
“Is that Chinese I smell?” Gus asked, not even pretending he was going to head into the kitchen. “I hate Chinese.”
“We had Chinese last week.”
“Hated it then too.”
Tanner looked at his dad and wondered why he was busting his balls this time. “You had three helpings. Asked me to order Mongolian beef.”
“Didn’t want to be rude, seeing as I’m a guest here,” his cranky voice snapped.
And here we go. Tanner took a calming breath and waited to speak until his blood pressure wasn’t bordering on unnecessary roughness. “You’re not a guest, Dad. This is your home. I want you to feel comfortable here.”
“Good, cuz comfortable is me eating my dinner, right here from the comfort of my chair.” He waved a hand at Colin. “Now turn up the volume, I can’t hear the score over all the chatter.”
Tanner gave up. Living with his dad was like living with a two-year-old. Gus had spent most of his first
The only way Abby was ever going to move forward with her life was to stop revisiting her past. And Tanner was a part of her past that she most definitely needed to steer clear of.
Which was going to be a little tricky since that one kiss had catapulted him into something much more recent. Something that felt a whole hell of a lot like her present.
CHAPTER 6
T o-go bags in hand, Tanner walked up the front steps of his house, frowning when he saw Colin’s Mercedes parked out back. The game should have still been in full swing at the Spigot—just like Colin’s meeting with Ferris.
He opened the front door, and for the first time since acquiring roommates he didn’t seem to mind the piles of crap or muddy paw prints all over his handcrafted stone floor. He was too busy thinking about Abby in her thin, wet shirt, no bra, and itty-bitty shorts. The galoshes had been an adorable bonus, coming up well past her knees as though she were trudging through the swamplands.
And those lips, man, he’d renovate her entire dump of a house from top to bottom if it meant spending more time with her mouth fused to his.
Tanner shut the door behind him, and the sound of claws on the floor was the only warning before a warm body plowed into his legs.
Part wolfhound, part bigfoot, and a complete pain in Tanner’s ass, Wrecking Ball, his dad’s dumb-as-dirt mutt, was so excited Tanner was home that he wagged himself all over Tanner’s entryway, leaving a yellow happy trail three feet long.
“Outside,” Tanner scolded, pointing. When Wreck only panted joyfully, Tanner dropped a pile of paper towels over the puddle, which he left by the door for just such an occasion. “You do your business outside, got it?”
Wreck barked. Tanner cut him a hard glare, then, shucking his wet boots, made his way to the kitchen—the dog followed, his nails tapping the slate floor and his big, wiry tail wagging so hard he knocked over everything he passed. Including a wadded-up receipt that sat on the entry table, which he promptly ate.
Tanner dropped the Chinese food on the counter and poked his head into the family room to find Gus and Colin drinking beer and watching the game.
Gus was in his ratty old recliner, socked feet kicked up on the footrest and his silver hair sticking up in the back as though he’d slept right there all day and hadn’t budged. Which he probably hadn’t. Gus had arrived with a suitcase, his dog, a bad attitude, and that damn chair. The only thing that had budged since move-in day was the dog.
Colin, on the other hand, was sprawled out on the couch, his cold beer sweating on the leather armrest, his work boots scuffing up the coffee table. Wreck jumped up beside him, licked himself a few times, then curled up in Tanner’s spot, tongue hanging out.
“Dinner’s in the kitchen.” Tanner met his dad’s gaze. His wiry brows puckered, making it clear that he was in a mood. “So eat it in the kitchen and save some for me. I’ll be down in a minute.”
“Is that Chinese I smell?” Gus asked, not even pretending he was going to head into the kitchen. “I hate Chinese.”
“We had Chinese last week.”
“Hated it then too.”
Tanner looked at his dad and wondered why he was busting his balls this time. “You had three helpings. Asked me to order Mongolian beef.”
“Didn’t want to be rude, seeing as I’m a guest here,” his cranky voice snapped.
And here we go. Tanner took a calming breath and waited to speak until his blood pressure wasn’t bordering on unnecessary roughness. “You’re not a guest, Dad. This is your home. I want you to feel comfortable here.”
“Good, cuz comfortable is me eating my dinner, right here from the comfort of my chair.” He waved a hand at Colin. “Now turn up the volume, I can’t hear the score over all the chatter.”
Tanner gave up. Living with his dad was like living with a two-year-old. Gus had spent most of his first
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