Page 98 of The Clover Chapel (Jamison Valley 2)
And drunk.
And my stomach wasn’t feeling so hot.
How could I possibly have predicted all this? That a visit to Mason’s home would end with a gun to my forehead, a sworn declaration of criminal threat and an evening spent at the sheriff’s station?
Nick was acting like I did this on purpose. That I had knowingly put myself in harm’s way. How dare he be mad at me? And how dare he leave me?
He was mad and his first instinct was to leave.
The sound of footsteps on the porch had me staring at the door as Nick strode inside. His T-shirt was covered in wet splotches and his hair was dripping sweat. He came to me on the couch and bent to kiss the top of my head.
“I’m going to grab a quick shower,” he said gently. His anger must have burnt out while he was running. Too bad for him I was furious.
He was delusional if he thought we were going to have a rational discussion now that he was settled. The time for that was earlier. He should have stuck around when we got back to the cabin and not left me alone.
The fight we were about to have was his fault. And if I had a hangover tomorrow, that was going to be his fault too.
I was steaming on the couch when his bare feet padded across the wood floor. I kept my eyes pointed straight ahead toward the fire because he was likely wearing only a pair of flannel pajama pants. The way they hung from his hips. Seeing his naked chest. If I looked at him, my resolve would weaken. Sometimes he was just too sexy.
“Emmy,” he said, sinking into the couch next to me.
“Nick,” I snapped.
“You’re pissed.”
“You’re right.”
“Why?”
“Why?” I said, jumping up from the couch as fast as my drunk ass could move. As in, not fast at all because I stumbled and almost face-planted into the coffee table.
“Easy,” he said, reaching out to steady me. “Are you drunk?”
“Yes!” I shouted. “I had to get drunk. How else am I supposed to cope with all this? It’s not like I could talk to you. You left me to go running.”
“I needed the air.”
“What the hell do you think I’ve been breathing for the last hour? There’s air in here!” He bit his lower lip. “Don’t you dare laugh at me.”
My threat made it worse. The room filled with the sound of Nick’s rich laughter.
“Urrrgh!” I growled, clenching my fists by my sides. Apparently, that was funny too because his laughter got so loud, my ears started to hurt.
“Sleep on the couch!” I shouted, stomping across the room and up the stairs. Of course he didn’t listen to me. When I stepped out of his master bathroom five minutes later, he had shed his pants on the floor and was propped up in bed.
My upper lip snarled at the arrogant grin on his face. The bastard knew I wouldn’t evict him out of his own room.
“We’re going to start sleeping at my house,” I said, throwing back the covers. “Then I won’t feel bad for kicking you out of bed.”
“Not happening,” he said. “You’re wearing pajamas.”
“And you’re observant.” I huffed and flopped on the mattress until I was comfortably resting on my stomach with my face turned away from Nick.
“Don’t go to sleep mad, Emmy.” His fingers reached across the bed and started tracing light patterns on my shoulder.
“You got angry with me for doing the right thing. For trying to help a child. Then when you had your chance to talk to me about it, you left. Someone pointed a gun at me today. The metal was touching my skin, right here,” I said, touching my forehead. “There was thirty seconds today when I thought I was going to die. And you left me.”
My voice cracked as a fresh batch of sobs tore through my chest.
