Page 6 of Meant for You

He climbed to his feet stiffly and rested his inked hands on either side of the door, blocking my exit and my ability to shut it on his face.

He chuckled. That look in his eyes I’d seen a million times: a bit wild, unpredictable, wicked. “Always did have a way with words, Eves.”

Oh no. No goddamn way was he going to win me over with that smile or that husky chuckle that I’d always loved so much.

“Speaking of faces, what happened?” He tapped his own forehead then motioned to mine.

I inwardly cringed. I was humiliated enough already. No way was I going to tell him I’d brained myself in Tanner’s truck going in for a kiss. My date hadn’t seen me coming and I’d ended up sucking face with thin air, resulting in my head making friends with the bottle he’d been holding instead. After rushing me to the emergency room and dropping me off, it had been radio silence.

Inexperienced dorks obviously weren’t his thing. Perfectly understandable. It had been my third dating disaster since I moved out of my aunt’s home. I was a failure at the whole boy-girl thing, and each attempt had been more humiliating and confidence shaking than the last.

I was hopeless, and Dane didn’t need to know about any of it, which should have been easy since I had no intention of talking to him.

“Get out of my way,” I said, instantly making a mockery of my previous thought. But he wouldn’t move, and I needed him to. “Now.”

He sobered. “Eves, we need to talk.”

“I wanted to talk a year and a half ago. I’m over it now.” Okay, apparently I did have things I wanted to say after all.

He rubbed his palm over his cropped hair. “I…didn’t handle things in the best way, but, Christ, you can’t keep ignoring me like this.”

Dane used to wear his hair longer and dye it different colors. Blue had been his color of choice for a long time. It was all shaven off now, and what I could see was dark, his natural color. The facial piercings were gone, too. I did a sweep of him from head to toe, unable to stop myself.

He was also a lot bigger. I’d noticed before now, of course, from afar. But this close it was impossible to miss. He’d always been tall, was as tall as his brother now and close to his cousin, but he’d been leaner. Not anymore. He was thicker, more solid.

There was no sign of the boy I’d loved, my best friend. None of the softness was there anymore either.

Dane was all man. Muscle and hard lines, and there was scruff on his angled jaw. The jeans he wore looked soft and sat low on his hips, and his T-shirt was black and strained over his wide chest, the sleeves hugging those bulging biceps, showing off all that ink on his arms and hands and the tattoos around his throat.

He was beautiful still, but different. And he seemed more controlled—well, again from what I’d observed of him from a distance. The fact he hadn’t tried to force his way back into my life before now was evidence to that. The old Dane didn’t know the word restraint. If he wanted something, he went after it.

He didn’t seem to smile as easily or as often either.

He was…rougher.

I swallowed, mouth desperately dry all of a sudden. We’d never been anything but friends—though that seemed too small a word for what we were to each other.

All I knew was I’d needed him; he was part of me. I never thought he’d leave me behind like he had. Never.

“I have to get to work,” I said.

Frustration lined his face, but he stepped back when I pushed through the door and followed me outside and into the barn. I grabbed a lead rope hanging on the wall and turned back.

Dane was standing in the door, his eyes angled down. He was looking at my legs, then his gaze moved up to my thighs—and a muscle in his jaw jumped.

I inwardly sighed. He’d always been protective to the extreme. Scared any and all boys away from me; thought everyone was looking to take advantage of me, hurt me. And yes, those years we were living together there had been situations where that was true.

So I’d known where it came from back then. But now, here? Ridiculous. Was he worried the horses might look at my butt? Or the rooster?

“Will you meet me later?” he said, the frustration on his face also clear in his voice.

“Why?” I said. “What’s the point?”

He crossed his arms, the muscles in his forearms flexing as he did, brows lowering. “Why?” he repeated, like I’d said something so absurd he was having trouble comprehending my words. “Are you fucking serious?”

I crossed my arms as well, and his golden-brown eyes dipped to my chest this time. His mouth thinned, that muscle in his jaw jumping again.

I almost rolled my eyes. “Yes, I’m serious.”