tangle of emotions that erupted from just being around him.
Sean seemed determined to do the same, barely grunting at her when she joined him on the porch. He locked the door and stormed down the steps, not bothering to see if she followed. He climbed into the cab and the truck roared to life, and once again the stereo deafened her as she got in through the passenger door.
Hot air blew from the vents as Sean cranked up the heat and then reached behind his seat to grab something. Wordlessly, he leaned over and tucked a thick down coat around her. It was huge, covering her from her neck to her knees, and it smelled faintly of wood shavings and soap.
Like Sean.
“Thanks,” she said.
Either he didn’t hear or he didn’t care, but his gaze locked forward.
She snuggled deeper into the folds of the jacket, puzzling over the man sitting next to her. The memory of his smile washed through her; his small courtesy of turning on the heat and giving her the coat warmed her from the inside. No matter how much he resented her presence, he couldn’t let himself be a complete inconsiderate ass.
Guilt knotted her stomach as she remembered something Sean Flynn’s sister, Megan, had said in the days leading up to his trial. Sean always looks out for the little guy. He takes care of people. He would never let a woman be hurt, much less hurt her himself.
Krista felt like she’d seen a tiny glimpse of that man today, the core of him still lurking beneath the angry, closed-off person he’d become.
It hit her like a brick in the chest, so obvious she felt like an idiot for not realizing it before. Then again, maybe in her guilt, she hadn’t wanted to see it.
The realization that the years on death row had cost Sean so much more than time.
Sean parked his truck in front of Frank Halfer’s garage, located on the south end of Winton’s Main Street. It was a lost cause he knew, but as he climbed out of the cab he couldn’t help but pray that by some miracle Frank had fixed Krista’s car so she could be on her way tonight.
After the past few hours, he wasn’t sure he could stand the idea of her staying in town for a weekend, even if she was cozied up in the little B&B a couple blocks down from Frank’s shop. He was afraid of what he might do, that a few miles wasn’t nearly enough space between them to prevent him from doing something stupid.
Like punch through the brick wall he’d built around himself and give in to the sudden, desperate urges to touch, to taste, to feel. Krista Fucking Slater. Of all the women in the world, why was she the only one who managed to remind him he was still alive in a way no one had been able to in three long years?
A way he didn’t want to feel, goddamn it. He’d lost any meaningful connection with everyone except for his sister, and that was just fine with him. No emotional tangles, no obligations to anyone but himself. No worrying about hurting anyone or getting hurt back.
But now she had to come storming in, yanking his body back to life and ripping the cover off a tangle of emotions he’d been content to keep on lockdown for the past three years.
At least she was mercifully silent, having gotten the hint that there was no way in hell he was going to go digging through his memories, no matter what she thought was at stake.
Sean ducked under the half-closed garage door and heard the soles of Krista’s running shoes squeak against the concrete floor as she followed. The tinny sound of a country song on a radio echoed through the room.
“Hey, Frank,” Sean called. Frank looked up from the battered, paper-strewn desk tucked into the back corner of the garage.
“Hey, Sean. Ma’am,” he said, nodding at Krista.
“Any chance you’ve gotten her car started?” Sean asked, fingers crossed inside his coat pocket.
Frank shook his head. “Damndest thing,” he said. “Entire electrical system is fried. I should be able to get parts Monday—”
“Do you work with a lot of
Sean seemed determined to do the same, barely grunting at her when she joined him on the porch. He locked the door and stormed down the steps, not bothering to see if she followed. He climbed into the cab and the truck roared to life, and once again the stereo deafened her as she got in through the passenger door.
Hot air blew from the vents as Sean cranked up the heat and then reached behind his seat to grab something. Wordlessly, he leaned over and tucked a thick down coat around her. It was huge, covering her from her neck to her knees, and it smelled faintly of wood shavings and soap.
Like Sean.
“Thanks,” she said.
Either he didn’t hear or he didn’t care, but his gaze locked forward.
She snuggled deeper into the folds of the jacket, puzzling over the man sitting next to her. The memory of his smile washed through her; his small courtesy of turning on the heat and giving her the coat warmed her from the inside. No matter how much he resented her presence, he couldn’t let himself be a complete inconsiderate ass.
Guilt knotted her stomach as she remembered something Sean Flynn’s sister, Megan, had said in the days leading up to his trial. Sean always looks out for the little guy. He takes care of people. He would never let a woman be hurt, much less hurt her himself.
Krista felt like she’d seen a tiny glimpse of that man today, the core of him still lurking beneath the angry, closed-off person he’d become.
It hit her like a brick in the chest, so obvious she felt like an idiot for not realizing it before. Then again, maybe in her guilt, she hadn’t wanted to see it.
The realization that the years on death row had cost Sean so much more than time.
Sean parked his truck in front of Frank Halfer’s garage, located on the south end of Winton’s Main Street. It was a lost cause he knew, but as he climbed out of the cab he couldn’t help but pray that by some miracle Frank had fixed Krista’s car so she could be on her way tonight.
After the past few hours, he wasn’t sure he could stand the idea of her staying in town for a weekend, even if she was cozied up in the little B&B a couple blocks down from Frank’s shop. He was afraid of what he might do, that a few miles wasn’t nearly enough space between them to prevent him from doing something stupid.
Like punch through the brick wall he’d built around himself and give in to the sudden, desperate urges to touch, to taste, to feel. Krista Fucking Slater. Of all the women in the world, why was she the only one who managed to remind him he was still alive in a way no one had been able to in three long years?
A way he didn’t want to feel, goddamn it. He’d lost any meaningful connection with everyone except for his sister, and that was just fine with him. No emotional tangles, no obligations to anyone but himself. No worrying about hurting anyone or getting hurt back.
But now she had to come storming in, yanking his body back to life and ripping the cover off a tangle of emotions he’d been content to keep on lockdown for the past three years.
At least she was mercifully silent, having gotten the hint that there was no way in hell he was going to go digging through his memories, no matter what she thought was at stake.
Sean ducked under the half-closed garage door and heard the soles of Krista’s running shoes squeak against the concrete floor as she followed. The tinny sound of a country song on a radio echoed through the room.
“Hey, Frank,” Sean called. Frank looked up from the battered, paper-strewn desk tucked into the back corner of the garage.
“Hey, Sean. Ma’am,” he said, nodding at Krista.
“Any chance you’ve gotten her car started?” Sean asked, fingers crossed inside his coat pocket.
Frank shook his head. “Damndest thing,” he said. “Entire electrical system is fried. I should be able to get parts Monday—”
“Do you work with a lot of
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