Page 51 of Strung Along
“Where are your exterior plug-ins?”
“I don’t know.” It’s the truth. I’ve never looked.
His smile starts small before growing. The first look at the dimple in his right cheek has me swallowing a swoon. “Let’s have a look, then.”
“Why are you smiling like that?” I blurt out.
“Like what?” The fucker somehow grins impossibly bigger.
“Like you know exactly how good-looking you are, especially when you smile like that. Are you trying to seduce me or something?”
His laugh is pure sin. It runs a soft touch down my body before settling between my legs. The involuntary clench that follows makes me breathless and annoyed all in one.
“If I was trying to seduce you, Anna, you wouldn’t be thinking so hard,” he coos.
I nearly moan. The realization of how easy it’s become for this man to turn me into a horndog is enough to relieve me from the effects of his words.
“You said something about finding my exterior outlets?”
BRODY
I barely make it two steps into the ranch house before my grandfather finds me. My pep talk in the truck on the way home was for nothing. There’s not a damn thing that I could have told myself to adequately prepare for the ass whooping my grandpa’s prepared.
Leaning against the wall in the foyer, he has his arms crossed and cowboy hat dipped low. The lack of boots on his feet is courtesy of my grandmother, I’m sure. She’s stubborn when it comes to her no boots past the back mat rule, even if it weakens Grandpa’s rough and tough appearance.
Not only is my stomach empty, but my eyes are heavy, exhaustion a real pain in my ass. Slipping my boots off, I shut the heavy wooden door and wait.
“When are you leavin’?” he asks, the question sharp and demanding.
“Leavin’?”
“Leavin’ back to Nashville. I assume you’ve been plannin’ your return over the past couple of weeks with all of your disappearances. Clearly, you don’t want to be here.”
“Well, with such a cold welcome, I don’t see how I’d overly want to be here,” I snap.
Grandpa straightens, a hurt look there and gone in the blink of an eye. “It’s hard to get too close when we don’t know when you’ll be takin’ off again.”
“Don’t give me that. I’m still your grandson. You were fine until we went to that auction. What happened there that turned you around?”
It’s pissed me off ever since he switched up that day. Sure, he wasn’t exactly warm and cozy with my return, but he surely wasn’t this cold. Something or, more likely, someone messed with his head.
“I was too hopeful that you’d hang around.”
I remove my hat and rest it against my thigh, exasperated by his way of thinking. His fears are on me, I know that. They’re the consequences of my leaving, but fuck, that doesn’t make it any easier.
“I haven’t made plans to leave yet. You need to let what you think I’m goin’ to do go. You’re only pushin’ me away,” I tell him.
He guffaws, pushing away from the wall. Tugging off his hat, he smooths a hand over his grey hair. “You pushed yourself away, Brody. I’m sorry if your welcome back wasn’t everythin’ you’d dreamed of, but it’s gonna take some work to earn back the respect and trust you lost when you left.”
“What do you think I’m tryin’ to do every day? You’re the one so desperate to believe that I’m plannin’ an escape instead of appreciatin’ the time we have together.”
“Appreciate the time we have? That’s supposed to suffice? I raised you, son—don’t give me shit for not taking the scraps you offer us.” The old man seethes, a red tint to his cheeks.
I know I’m not going to get anywhere with him tonight. The hurt runs deep, and the Steeles are as stubborn as mules. We don’t forget or forgive easily. Especially not when it comes to abandonment. And that’s exactly what I did. Whetherintentional or not, I abandoned this place. Abandoned him the same way my father did.
“Wade Steele, you go get washed up for dinner,” Grandma scolds.
I find her standing in the doorway, a pale yellow apron tied around her waist and a tea towel in her hands. Her scowl is brutal and aimed at her husband. At least he has the sense not to fight her on this, even if the look he gives me promises that we’ll continue this conversation at a later time.