disappeared down the passage.
He was back in under a minute, a bottle of beer in his hand. A date? He’d slept with her last night and she had him already trawling for another woman?
He didn’t know whether to be ticked or flattered that she thought him to be such a player. Seb thought for a moment; nah, he was definitely POed.
‘My plans? Nothing more strenuous than a burger, a beer and an early night. It’s the Fish and Fern tomorrow.’
Rowan wrinkled her nose. ‘The what?’
Seb gave her a long look before emptying his pockets, placing his mobile, keys and a thin wallet on the table. ‘The triathlon race. The one on the fridge. Swimming, running, biking?’
‘Oh, right. What time do you think you’ll be home?’
Seb shrugged. ‘Eight-ish, I suppose. There’s a barbecue after the prize-giving and I’ll probably stay for that. Problem?’
‘No.’
Rowan tugged the shirt down but it sprang up her tummy with all the obstinacy of stretched cotton. He clocked her tousled but elaborate hairdo, the subtle make-up, the bangles at her wrist and the beaded earrings. She looked as if she was going on a date... Was that why she’d asked him whether he had plans? Because she did?
Hell, no. That wasn’t happening.
‘So, what are you up to tonight? That’s one heck of an outfit, by the way.’
Rowan responded to the thinly disguised annoyance in his tone by raising her chin. ‘What’s wrong with my outfit?’
‘Tight low-rise jeans, short top, fixed hair. Wherever you’re going, you are going to get hit on all night.’ The beer was not doing the trick of relaxing him; Rowan changing and staying at home would.
‘Don’t be ridiculous.’
‘I’m a guy and I know exactly what I’d read into your outfit.’
‘Guys would read sex into a nun’s habit.’
He noticed that she still hadn’t told him where she was going. What was the big deal? His temper, on a low simmer all day, started to heat. He shrugged out of his jacket and threw it over the newel post of the staircase. He yanked his pale green dress shirt out of his black pants and sat on the bottom stair to pull off his shoes.
Seb rested his elbows on the stair above, took a long sip of his beer and picked up a shovel to dig his own grave. ‘So, where are you going? And who are you going with?’
‘I’m going to a bar.’
‘A bar?’
‘You make it sound as if I am about to do a deal with the local meth supplier! I feel like I’ve been catapulted back to my teenage years with my over-protective parents. I’m not sixteen any more, Seb. What is your problem?’ Rowan demanded when he just looked past her in stony silence. ‘Why are you acting like this?’
Fair question.
‘I didn’t expect to come home to...’ Seb rubbed his temple ‘...this.’
‘This?’ Rowan felt the bubbles of her temper rise to the surface and pop. ‘“This” being jeans and a tee?’
‘“This” being you dressed up and looking hot.’
‘I did my hair and put on some make-up...this is pretty normal!’
‘Nothing about you is normal!’ Seb sprang up, his eyes tired and sparking. ‘Do you know how sexy you look? You’ll have every male tongue dropping to the floor in that bar. You were mine last night and the thought of you going out and being someone else’s is making me want to punch something.’
As soon as the words left his mouth and their meaning sank in Seb knew that he’d made a crucial mistake—that he’d been a total tool. Her eyes shimmered with hurt and she bit her lip to keep it from wobbling. He never spoke without thinking, but those words had just bubbled up, over and out...
Seb swore at himself and ran an agitated hand through his hair.
‘Excuse me?’
Oh, crap. She’d kicked ‘hurt’ into the back seat and now she was seriously ticked. Wonderful. And could he blame her?
Seb twisted his lips and thought he’d attempt to explain. ‘Okay, look, that came out wrong...’
‘You think I am so easy that I could jump
He was back in under a minute, a bottle of beer in his hand. A date? He’d slept with her last night and she had him already trawling for another woman?
He didn’t know whether to be ticked or flattered that she thought him to be such a player. Seb thought for a moment; nah, he was definitely POed.
‘My plans? Nothing more strenuous than a burger, a beer and an early night. It’s the Fish and Fern tomorrow.’
Rowan wrinkled her nose. ‘The what?’
Seb gave her a long look before emptying his pockets, placing his mobile, keys and a thin wallet on the table. ‘The triathlon race. The one on the fridge. Swimming, running, biking?’
‘Oh, right. What time do you think you’ll be home?’
Seb shrugged. ‘Eight-ish, I suppose. There’s a barbecue after the prize-giving and I’ll probably stay for that. Problem?’
‘No.’
Rowan tugged the shirt down but it sprang up her tummy with all the obstinacy of stretched cotton. He clocked her tousled but elaborate hairdo, the subtle make-up, the bangles at her wrist and the beaded earrings. She looked as if she was going on a date... Was that why she’d asked him whether he had plans? Because she did?
Hell, no. That wasn’t happening.
‘So, what are you up to tonight? That’s one heck of an outfit, by the way.’
Rowan responded to the thinly disguised annoyance in his tone by raising her chin. ‘What’s wrong with my outfit?’
‘Tight low-rise jeans, short top, fixed hair. Wherever you’re going, you are going to get hit on all night.’ The beer was not doing the trick of relaxing him; Rowan changing and staying at home would.
‘Don’t be ridiculous.’
‘I’m a guy and I know exactly what I’d read into your outfit.’
‘Guys would read sex into a nun’s habit.’
He noticed that she still hadn’t told him where she was going. What was the big deal? His temper, on a low simmer all day, started to heat. He shrugged out of his jacket and threw it over the newel post of the staircase. He yanked his pale green dress shirt out of his black pants and sat on the bottom stair to pull off his shoes.
Seb rested his elbows on the stair above, took a long sip of his beer and picked up a shovel to dig his own grave. ‘So, where are you going? And who are you going with?’
‘I’m going to a bar.’
‘A bar?’
‘You make it sound as if I am about to do a deal with the local meth supplier! I feel like I’ve been catapulted back to my teenage years with my over-protective parents. I’m not sixteen any more, Seb. What is your problem?’ Rowan demanded when he just looked past her in stony silence. ‘Why are you acting like this?’
Fair question.
‘I didn’t expect to come home to...’ Seb rubbed his temple ‘...this.’
‘This?’ Rowan felt the bubbles of her temper rise to the surface and pop. ‘“This” being jeans and a tee?’
‘“This” being you dressed up and looking hot.’
‘I did my hair and put on some make-up...this is pretty normal!’
‘Nothing about you is normal!’ Seb sprang up, his eyes tired and sparking. ‘Do you know how sexy you look? You’ll have every male tongue dropping to the floor in that bar. You were mine last night and the thought of you going out and being someone else’s is making me want to punch something.’
As soon as the words left his mouth and their meaning sank in Seb knew that he’d made a crucial mistake—that he’d been a total tool. Her eyes shimmered with hurt and she bit her lip to keep it from wobbling. He never spoke without thinking, but those words had just bubbled up, over and out...
Seb swore at himself and ran an agitated hand through his hair.
‘Excuse me?’
Oh, crap. She’d kicked ‘hurt’ into the back seat and now she was seriously ticked. Wonderful. And could he blame her?
Seb twisted his lips and thought he’d attempt to explain. ‘Okay, look, that came out wrong...’
‘You think I am so easy that I could jump
Similar Books
