“So, now that I know you’re all right, I’ll go.” She whirled around.
The door squeaked and two enormous hands curled over her biceps, preventing her escape. Then his arms, those big strong arms, slid around her and his mouth teased her ear. “Stay.”
“You don’t have to say that if you don’t want me here.”
“I want you here. I just wasn’t expecting you. It threw me off.” He nuzzled her ear. “Come in. Please.”
“Okay.”
Fletch picked her up as if she weighed nothing and carried her inside.
As soon as he set her down, she snaked her arms around his waist and set her head on his chest. Listening to the strong and steady thumping of his heart. Breathing him in—the scent of clean cotton and his spicy musk. The scent she’d missed.
Fletch silently stroked her hair.
“I’m sorry.”
“For?”
“For bein’ the way I am.”
“Sugar twang, I like the way you are. So what’s all this really about?”
Tanna tipped her head back. Tempting to dodge the issue and seduce him. He wouldn’t say no. But she forced herself to address this head-on. “You know there’s nothin’ goin’ on between me and Sutton Grant, don’t you?”
“I’d wondered.”
“Why?”
“A couple of things pointed that direction.”
“Like what?”
His gaze hardened and his hands tightened on her head. “Why did you leave my bed the other morning?”
He had noticed. So she tossed off a breezy, “I woke up early and couldn’t get back to sleep. I didn’t think you needed to suffer for my restlessness, so I left.”
Fletch’s hands fell away. She knew he wasn’t buying her fib. “Thoughtful of you.”
She smiled. “I try.”
“So you didn’t suspect your bloodcurdling scream before you scrambled out of my bed might’ve woken me up?”
“What?”
“Don’t do that, Tanna.”
“Do what?”
“Lie to me. Since you drove over here, and you’re so concerned for me, at least give me the goddamned courtesy of being honest with me.” He spun on his heel. Paced down the hallway and came back. “I know you’re not f**king around with Sutton Grant. But there’s part of me that wishes you were.”
Her mouth dropped open. “Why would you even say that to me?”
“Because then maybe I’d understand why you’re turning to him instead of me. I get your physical affection, but when it comes to any emotional issues, you cut me off. You ran screaming from my bed, Tanna. And the person who gets the explanation for that is . . . Sutton? Not me?” Fletch inhaled a slow breath. “Did you really think I wouldn’t want to know? I’m just the fun sex guy, right?”
“No! You’re so much more than that.”
“Prove it. Tell me about the nightmare, because you glossed over it when Sutton asked you about it.”
So Fletch had overheard their conversation. Tanna wrapped her arms around herself and backed away. “It’s about my mother and Jezebel. I’m in the middle of my run and we skid around the second barrel, just like that night. But instead of crashing like we did, Jezebel gets up and I’m tangled in the stirrups, bein’ dragged beneath her. She’s bleeding. Broken bones are sticking through her skin. Somehow I know she only has one eye and we’re headed toward the gate at breakneck speed. I can’t stop her. She’s killing herself to finish the run. She’s killing me to finish it too. I’m yelling at her to stop. When I look ahead, I see my mother standing in the middle of the open gate. I’m shouting at her to move but she stays right there. Smiling that proud smile . . . and when Jezebel hits her at full steam, I hear my mom’s scream, Jezebel’s scream and lastly mine. Then I wake up. I can’t reassure myself it was only a bad dream. The reality is my mom is dead, my horse is dead and I’m wandering around lost.”
Fletch enfolded her in his arms, holding her tightly so she couldn’t squirm away. He didn’t push her to talk or offer platitudes.
Part of her would’ve preferred that reaction from him. This silent comfort was unnerving mostly because he understood that’s exactly what she needed.
He pulled back and wiped the tears from her eyes. “Maybe I haven’t said it enough, but I’m sorry for all you’ve gone through.”
“Can you see why some days I just wanna pull the covers over my head and hope I dreamt the last two years?”
“Then we never would’ve met.”
She twined her arms around his neck. “But that might’ve been for the best. I’m a train wreck, Fletch. Why did you even answer the door tonight?”
“Because I don’t think you’re a train wreck. You’re a hot mess some days, but you’ve not derailed completely.” Fletch traced the outline of her face with the blunt edge of his thumb.
Tanna felt that pull of sexual need from the tips of her fingers to the ends of her toes—just that one, simple gesture filled her with want. But she’d used sex as a distraction with him far too many times and it was time she pointed out he did the same thing. “You need to really think about that statement when I’m not pressed tight against your hard cock. When you’re not feeling all soft and sweet and sorry for me.” She placed her finger over his lips when he started to argue. “You know I’m right. I’d understand if you’ve changed your mind about getting mixed up, even temporarily, with someone like me.”