Unconditional

I brace the space with my shoulder, and try to pull myself inside, gripping the ledge for leverage as I wriggle through the tight gap. I hear my dress catch with a rip, but I’m almost through, just a little bit further—

I overbalance, tumbling over the ledge and falling to the kitchen floor, sending plates and bottles skittering to the floor around me with a crash. I hit the ground hard, jarring my shoulder from the impact.

“Owww!” I cry, rolling over to shield my face from the shower of cutlery and coffee mugs following me down. The last mug bounces to the ground, and then I’m left sitting alone on the tiled floor in the dark house.

Silence.

I catch my breath, pulling myself to my feet. My shoulder hurts, but it’s already fading, so I carefully feel my way across the pitch-black kitchen, patting the walls to find the light switch. I can barely remember the layout of the house, and I bump clumsily against table edges and unfamiliar chairs before I find the arched doorway. I step through, turning down the black hallway towards the front door and—

A noise comes. A shadow rears up in the dark. I scream.

“What the f**k?”

Panic claws my chest and I scream again, reaching blindly for something to fight him off. Squatters and junkies and all kinds of dangerous men fill my mind as my hand closes around something solid on the hall table and I swing with everything I’ve got.

“Goddamn!” The figure reels back, stumbling against the wall.

“Get away from me!” I cry, shaking. My heart is racing so fast I think it might beat right out of my chest. I grip the object in my hand tighter. “Don’t touch me!”

“I’m not trying to touch you!” the man roars, angry. “I just want to know what you’re doing breaking into my goddamn house!”

The light flips on. I reel back, blinded by the sudden glare, but as the daze clears and my eyes flick back into focus, I see the man in front of me for the first time.

I stop breathing.

He’s half-naked, that’s the first thing I notice. Jesus, his body is like nothing I’ve ever seen before: tanned bronze and chiseled like a Greek god, but not like the guys I’ve dated, all waxed and pumped from hours at a fancy gym. This guy is real, raw, all muscle and power, with a web of dark tattoos snaking over the bicep of his right arm. I feel a flush roll through me, hot with prickling awareness, but I can’t look away as I take in his tight, sculpted six-pack abs, and the trail of dark hair leading down to the waistband of his navy briefs…

“Don’t mind me, darlin’,” his voice comes. “Any time you’re done looking…”

I snap my eyes up to his face, blushing. Then I look at him for real and it all clicks into place.

“Oh.” My heart clenches in my chest as I recognize him for the first time. “It’s you.”

Unshaven face. Messy bronzed bed-head hair. And a pair of stormy ocean-blue eyes scowling at me like I’m the last person on earth he wants to see.

And, I can say, the feeling is entirely mutual.

“It’s me,” Garrett Sawyer agrees in a low, Southern drawl. He strides over and snatches the vase from my hand, setting it down on the table with a thud. “Now, you want to tell me what the hell you’re doing creeping around my house at three in the goddamn morning?”

I catch my breath, the flush of desire mingling with irritation. I nearly had a heart attack trying to get in here, and he’s the one with an attitude?

“It’s not your house,” I snap, my heart still racing. “It’s mine.”

“Well, if you wanna get technical, it belongs to Emerson,” Garrett corrects me, glaring. “But I’m the only one here with permission to stay.”

“Why do you need a place?” I try to pull myself together, smoothing back my hair and yanking down my dress. “Don’t you live above that dirty old bar?”

“Nah.” Garrett paces closer, his full lips stretching into a lazy grin. “Usually I just go straight out back and roll around in the filth like a pig.”

His smile is heart-stopping, a whiskey smile, honeyed and dangerous and just inches away from me now. Despite my irritation, I feel another wave of heat roll through me, automatically rising to his nearness like a magnet spinning off its axis to find true north.

Damn.

I ignore the kick of my pulse and fold my arms across my chest. “You’re disgusting,” I retort, ignoring the shiver in my bloodstream.

“And you’re trespassing.” His gaze hungrily drifts over my body. I glance down, and see the rip has torn the skirt to the top of my thigh. I blush, yanking it shut.

“Look, I’m tired, OK?” I exclaim, self-conscious. “I’ve been driving all night, I didn’t know anyone would be here. I just need a place to sleep. Can we save all your territorial bullshit for the morning?”

Garrett raises an eyebrow at me, like he’s amused. I brace myself for more arguing, but instead, he gives a casual shrug. “Why not?”

I exhale with relief. “I’ve got a suitcase out front,” I tell him.

He smirks. “Then you better go get it. Spare bedroom upstairs, I’m sure you know the way.”

My mouth drops open, but before I can complain, there’s a noise from above us.

“Garrett?” a female voice sounds, and then a woman appears at the top of the stairs. She’s wearing an oversized T-shirt that barely skims her tanned thighs, her dark hair mussed up, makeup smudged around her eyes. “What’s going on?”