Page 10 of Rockland

In a daze, we somehow get back to the car. We’re halfway back to my house when I find myself breaking free from my stupor and suddenly shouting, “What the hell was that?”

He murmurs, “A memorial service. For a man we both very much loved.”

“No. You know what I mean. That speech. The one you gave while staring at me the entire time?”

“It was a speech I prepared in my brother’s honor, Tess. Not everything is about you.”

“Really? Then why were you looking at me while you gave it?” I cross my arms, stare at him defiantly.

His fingers tighten around the wheel. He heaves that I’m dealing with a child sigh—the one he saves just for me. “Look, Tess. Maybe it was for you. It’s been a year. People are talking. Apparently, you’ve stopped showing up at the office on a regular basis. You’re barely eating. The girls say you haven’t been out with them in months. I know you loved Brett—we all did, and still do—but it’s not healthy to lock yourself away in your house and waste away⁠—”

“Waste away? Waste away! I’m living a perfectly normal life, thank you very much. Taking care of myself and working and… and…”

His brows raise. “And starving yourself? Your dress is practically hanging off you and it fit you perfectly this time last year. You’re spending all your time focused on what you’ve lost instead of the people who are still here. People who love you.”

“It’s none of your damn business, Rockland Bachman. Sure, you may oversee prancing here once a year to link arms with me and take me to a service, but that’s where your jurisdiction ends. So just take yourself back to your little hovel and take care of your ragtag villagers.” I cross my arms over my chest, huffing, “Asshole.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. My jurisdiction covers much more ground than being your escort and letting you take your anger out on me.” His tone changes and when he speaks again, it’s low, dangerous even, and a chill runs down my spine. “There’s a line. And you’ve crossed it.”

Suddenly I no longer feel like the confident, angry widow free to take her emotions out on the man who’s been designated with keeping her sane for the day.

I swallow, hard.

There’s an abrupt tension creeping around the car between us. One that is swiftly making me uncomfortable. Sweat pricks against the skin of my lower back, making the fabric of my dress cling.

My stomach ties in knots. I’ve gone too far. I can feel it. I glance at Rockland, the set of his jaw making me feel squeamish. “Look—I… I’m… sorry.”

“Too late.” His brow narrows.

“What do you mean, too late? Too late for what, exactly?” Nerves dance in my belly as I twist my fingers around one another. We arrive at my house. He slides his sleek car against the curb out front. He gets out, shutting the door a little too hard. Leaving me alone to ponder my fate.

I watch him walk around the front of the car. My stomach twists. His stride is determined, threatening.

He’s opening my door. He’s reaching out his hand to take mine. Hell, no. I’m not going in there with him. I know exactly what he’s planning to do. I cross my arms over my chest and stare at him. Daring him to try to move me.

He’s got one arm slung over the top of the door. He looks at me. Bored.

“Tess, is this really how you want to do this?” he asks.

“Do what? Resist having a man who’s not my husband drag me up the stairs?” I say. I leave out any other things I think he might do, not wanting to give him any ideas in case I’ve misjudged his intentions.

His face is clear of emotion. But that telltale jaw twitch starts up. He takes off his shades, tosses them onto the dash. He leans down. Too close. The enticing scent of his aftershave reaches me as his hazel eyes lock onto mine—the sun hitting his irises to reveal flecks of gold within them. He says, “So, you choose the hard way?” He raises a brow.

“I choose no way. I choose you jet set back to wherever the hell Bronson’s got you stationed and leave me alone to mourn. In peace!” I go to grab the handle of the door and try to slam it, hoping to trap his arm within as I do.

But that damn limb of his is like lead. I tug as hard as I can, but the door doesn’t budge.

He has a smirk on his face. I give a harrumph of dissatisfaction, cross my arms back over my chest, planting myself further into the seat.

“Have it your way,” he shrugs.

In a flash, he’s got the buckle undone. He grabs me by my stiff shoulders and pulls me from the car. I’m shocked at his strength—it’s as if I weigh nothing to him. My jaw drops open in protest as I find myself being slung like an old duffle bag, right over his shoulder.

I beat his back with my fists. They bounce off his taut muscles. “Put me down, you—you brute!” I scream. I struggle to right myself. Scratching and clawing as I pull my torso up.

That’s when my perfectly perched ass gets a sharp whack! from his paddle-like hand. “Best behave, little girl.”

I want to cuss, scream, bite. But the sting on my bottom is spreading. My palms press into his back, my upper body tenses as I decide what my next step of action is. Rockland, sensing my plan, gives my ass another, even harder swat and I let out a yowl in pain.