Read Online Sweet Texas Kiss (Sweet Texas Secrets) by Monica Tillery - Free Book Online
Authors: Monica Tillery
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fists, careful to keep from shouting. “Look, I don’t know what you’re trying to pull, but your dad left me this house. You have to leave.”
He put the glass down onto the countertop, still casual and unconcerned in the face of her demand. “No.”
She resisted the urge to stomp her feet. “Yes! This is not your house. I am staying here until I have to go back to Nashville, and I’m sure as hell not going to be with you.”
“This is where I live, so I’m not leaving.” He was so calm, almost pleasant. It was infuriating.
“Pack a bag and go bunk with your brother, stay in a hotel, or sleep at your office. I don’t care, as long as you are out of here before dinner.” She pointed to the front door, then dropped her arm.
He wasn’t going anywhere.
“Speaking of dinner, I was planning on grilling steaks tonight. I have more than enough to share, and you can help with the sides.” He leaned against the counter, looking right at home and quite handsome for a big jerk who wasn’t playing fair.
“I’m not cooking any sides, and I’m not eating dinner with you tonight. Get out!” Her anger seemed to have no effect on him other than to make him even calmer, which was utterly infuriating.
He put his hands up. “There’s no need to yell. Obviously we have a situation here, and believe me, it’ll be easier to talk it out over some great food.” He turned bottles over on an ornate iron wine rack, perusing the labels, and pulled one out. “We’ll open this bottle of red, have some dinner, and figure everything out. It’s really the only solution.”
“You’re trespassing. I’ll call the cops.” She put her hands on her hips, hating the uncertainty in her tone.
“You will? Be my guest.” He edged around her to reach the pantry and emerged with a couple of potatoes. “Would you mind getting these in the oven before you call Sweet Ridge’s finest?”
Crap. Would she really have him arrested? With her luck, the responding officer would be someone they went to high school with, or someone who knew and loved his dad. Defeated, she realized that she would, in fact, be spending the night in the house with Gavin unless she went back to the hotel. If he wasn’t going to leave, she couldn’t make him. But she sure as hell wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of going back to the hotel.
“All right, fine. You can stay. But I don’t cook. I’m going to go take a shower and check my e-mail. Call me when it’s ready.” His amused laugh as she stormed out of the kitchen did not help.
He called after her, “Oh, and can you pick up those bags? Someone could trip.”
With a huff, she scooped up her bags, but only because she needed her clothes and toiletries. Otherwise she would leave them anywhere she damn well pleased. Nobody would tell her what to do in her own house. She pointed to a closed door. “Is this the master bedroom?”
“Yes, but you’ll need to stay in a guest room upstairs.” Gavin walked toward the stairs and waited for her, his casual demeanor gone.
“Well, this is my house, like I said, so I want to stay in the master bedroom.” She took a few steps toward the door, not sure if she should force the issue or relent and go upstairs.
Anger flashed briefly in his eyes, but he kept his voice soft and even. “That was my father’s room. I don’t even sleep in that bedroom yet, so you’re sure as hell not welcome to it. It’s completely empty, anyway.”
In pushing for her rights, she’d forgotten to be sensitive about the room’s former occupant. For all she knew, there could be a hospital bed and all sorts of equipment littering the room, yet she would have barreled through simply to make a point. It sounded like Gavin was waiting to make it his own. He’d probably been thrown for a loop when, instead of redecorating, he found out he didn’t own his house after all.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t think about that.” She kept her eyes trained on the stairs and
He put the glass down onto the countertop, still casual and unconcerned in the face of her demand. “No.”
She resisted the urge to stomp her feet. “Yes! This is not your house. I am staying here until I have to go back to Nashville, and I’m sure as hell not going to be with you.”
“This is where I live, so I’m not leaving.” He was so calm, almost pleasant. It was infuriating.
“Pack a bag and go bunk with your brother, stay in a hotel, or sleep at your office. I don’t care, as long as you are out of here before dinner.” She pointed to the front door, then dropped her arm.
He wasn’t going anywhere.
“Speaking of dinner, I was planning on grilling steaks tonight. I have more than enough to share, and you can help with the sides.” He leaned against the counter, looking right at home and quite handsome for a big jerk who wasn’t playing fair.
“I’m not cooking any sides, and I’m not eating dinner with you tonight. Get out!” Her anger seemed to have no effect on him other than to make him even calmer, which was utterly infuriating.
He put his hands up. “There’s no need to yell. Obviously we have a situation here, and believe me, it’ll be easier to talk it out over some great food.” He turned bottles over on an ornate iron wine rack, perusing the labels, and pulled one out. “We’ll open this bottle of red, have some dinner, and figure everything out. It’s really the only solution.”
“You’re trespassing. I’ll call the cops.” She put her hands on her hips, hating the uncertainty in her tone.
“You will? Be my guest.” He edged around her to reach the pantry and emerged with a couple of potatoes. “Would you mind getting these in the oven before you call Sweet Ridge’s finest?”
Crap. Would she really have him arrested? With her luck, the responding officer would be someone they went to high school with, or someone who knew and loved his dad. Defeated, she realized that she would, in fact, be spending the night in the house with Gavin unless she went back to the hotel. If he wasn’t going to leave, she couldn’t make him. But she sure as hell wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of going back to the hotel.
“All right, fine. You can stay. But I don’t cook. I’m going to go take a shower and check my e-mail. Call me when it’s ready.” His amused laugh as she stormed out of the kitchen did not help.
He called after her, “Oh, and can you pick up those bags? Someone could trip.”
With a huff, she scooped up her bags, but only because she needed her clothes and toiletries. Otherwise she would leave them anywhere she damn well pleased. Nobody would tell her what to do in her own house. She pointed to a closed door. “Is this the master bedroom?”
“Yes, but you’ll need to stay in a guest room upstairs.” Gavin walked toward the stairs and waited for her, his casual demeanor gone.
“Well, this is my house, like I said, so I want to stay in the master bedroom.” She took a few steps toward the door, not sure if she should force the issue or relent and go upstairs.
Anger flashed briefly in his eyes, but he kept his voice soft and even. “That was my father’s room. I don’t even sleep in that bedroom yet, so you’re sure as hell not welcome to it. It’s completely empty, anyway.”
In pushing for her rights, she’d forgotten to be sensitive about the room’s former occupant. For all she knew, there could be a hospital bed and all sorts of equipment littering the room, yet she would have barreled through simply to make a point. It sounded like Gavin was waiting to make it his own. He’d probably been thrown for a loop when, instead of redecorating, he found out he didn’t own his house after all.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t think about that.” She kept her eyes trained on the stairs and
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