supposed to return his call immediately.”
Sage reached for her phone. A few moments later, the tension that had invaded her body eased a notch, though it didn’t disappear entirely. Her brows drew together as she stared at the screen. “Kevin,” she murmured.
Hank deliberately gentled his voice despite the lingering remnants of his anger. “Not your boyfriend, I take it.”
Sage turned toward him, her bottom lip caught between her teeth, gaze distant. “Not anymore.”
Better than a no , but not by much. At least that’s what his inner Neanderthal decided. When Sage threw her phone back on the table, Neanderthal Hank purred with pleasure. Guess that’s a no on the call back, then.
And yet just the idea that she’d consider calling that jackass had Hank up and pacing the floor. Christ, what was wrong with him? He might as well beat his chest and bark that she was his woman. Fist a hand in that long wet hair and kiss her hard till she was as crazy as—
Alarm zinged through his gut. No, not like that. He wouldn’t hurt her, not ever. He didn’t hurt women.
Sage’s light sniff and glance at the coffeepot gave him something to do. Her appreciative look when he handed over a full cup soothed his inner beast, but he couldn’t let the question of her “boyfriend” go, no matter how much he told himself he should.
“Recently?” he asked.
Sage seemed to follow his thinking easily. “Recent enough.” She settled her cup on the table with unnecessary precision. “Let’s just say it didn’t end well.”
“Is he having a hard time accepting that?” Obviously.
“A bit.”
There was a clear drop it in there, one he ignored. “What happened?”
“Hank…” Exasperation and resignation mingled in his name. “After my mom…well, let’s just say he showed his true colors,” she finally answered.
The man’s tone of voice had made it clear exactly what kind of colors he’d shown. Hank wasn’t sure if he was angrier that Sage had been hurt or that she’d been fooled into dating the jackass in the first place. And how much of a jackass did that make him ?
“How—”
Sage’s hand came up, cutting him off. “I really don’t want to talk about it.”
He was across the room in a moment, that demanding hand captured in his. He settled on a chair and pulled their joined hands down until they settled on his thigh, far too close to his suddenly throbbing crotch. The echo of the man’s words, the years Hank had spent asking the questions that needed to be asked to keep a woman safe, refused to let him stay silent. Some things didn’t change.
“How bad has he gotten, Sage?”
She sighed. “He’s texted me half a dozen times. A couple of calls. I don’t answer, but…” Her shrug pulled against his grip, but he didn’t let go. He couldn’t, not with the alarm bells blaring in his ears.
She didn’t seem to want to let go either. Her fingers idly rubbed the jeans covering his thigh, her gaze centered there as if the movement fascinated her. Hank was pretty sure she wasn’t seeing it at all. “What did you tell him?” she finally asked.
He smirked. “I told him you were in the shower.”
The surprised laugh that burst from Sage’s mouth sparked pleasure deep inside him. “You didn’t!”
“Of course I did.”
Disbelief deepened the blue of her eyes when they met his, quickly fading under his forthright stare. “Of course,” she repeated. “Thank you. That’s…priceless.”
“It would’ve been better to see his face, but—” He winked, triggering another laugh. Watching her, he couldn’t get past the desperate urge to share her amusement, and not by laughing himself. He wanted to taste it, taste her. He wanted her laughter in his mouth—
He stood a bit too abruptly, but it was either that or kiss the living daylights out of her, so he went with the lesser of two evils. Accompanied by the slow fade of her laughter, he crossed the kitchen, picked up his guitar, then
Sage reached for her phone. A few moments later, the tension that had invaded her body eased a notch, though it didn’t disappear entirely. Her brows drew together as she stared at the screen. “Kevin,” she murmured.
Hank deliberately gentled his voice despite the lingering remnants of his anger. “Not your boyfriend, I take it.”
Sage turned toward him, her bottom lip caught between her teeth, gaze distant. “Not anymore.”
Better than a no , but not by much. At least that’s what his inner Neanderthal decided. When Sage threw her phone back on the table, Neanderthal Hank purred with pleasure. Guess that’s a no on the call back, then.
And yet just the idea that she’d consider calling that jackass had Hank up and pacing the floor. Christ, what was wrong with him? He might as well beat his chest and bark that she was his woman. Fist a hand in that long wet hair and kiss her hard till she was as crazy as—
Alarm zinged through his gut. No, not like that. He wouldn’t hurt her, not ever. He didn’t hurt women.
Sage’s light sniff and glance at the coffeepot gave him something to do. Her appreciative look when he handed over a full cup soothed his inner beast, but he couldn’t let the question of her “boyfriend” go, no matter how much he told himself he should.
“Recently?” he asked.
Sage seemed to follow his thinking easily. “Recent enough.” She settled her cup on the table with unnecessary precision. “Let’s just say it didn’t end well.”
“Is he having a hard time accepting that?” Obviously.
“A bit.”
There was a clear drop it in there, one he ignored. “What happened?”
“Hank…” Exasperation and resignation mingled in his name. “After my mom…well, let’s just say he showed his true colors,” she finally answered.
The man’s tone of voice had made it clear exactly what kind of colors he’d shown. Hank wasn’t sure if he was angrier that Sage had been hurt or that she’d been fooled into dating the jackass in the first place. And how much of a jackass did that make him ?
“How—”
Sage’s hand came up, cutting him off. “I really don’t want to talk about it.”
He was across the room in a moment, that demanding hand captured in his. He settled on a chair and pulled their joined hands down until they settled on his thigh, far too close to his suddenly throbbing crotch. The echo of the man’s words, the years Hank had spent asking the questions that needed to be asked to keep a woman safe, refused to let him stay silent. Some things didn’t change.
“How bad has he gotten, Sage?”
She sighed. “He’s texted me half a dozen times. A couple of calls. I don’t answer, but…” Her shrug pulled against his grip, but he didn’t let go. He couldn’t, not with the alarm bells blaring in his ears.
She didn’t seem to want to let go either. Her fingers idly rubbed the jeans covering his thigh, her gaze centered there as if the movement fascinated her. Hank was pretty sure she wasn’t seeing it at all. “What did you tell him?” she finally asked.
He smirked. “I told him you were in the shower.”
The surprised laugh that burst from Sage’s mouth sparked pleasure deep inside him. “You didn’t!”
“Of course I did.”
Disbelief deepened the blue of her eyes when they met his, quickly fading under his forthright stare. “Of course,” she repeated. “Thank you. That’s…priceless.”
“It would’ve been better to see his face, but—” He winked, triggering another laugh. Watching her, he couldn’t get past the desperate urge to share her amusement, and not by laughing himself. He wanted to taste it, taste her. He wanted her laughter in his mouth—
He stood a bit too abruptly, but it was either that or kiss the living daylights out of her, so he went with the lesser of two evils. Accompanied by the slow fade of her laughter, he crossed the kitchen, picked up his guitar, then
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