“This conversation is over,” Jones murmured, beginning to move down the walk.
“It’s about fuckin’ time,” Merry decreed.
Jones kept walking, but he looked over his shoulder to hurl, “Small-town cop, small mind, and too stupid to know it doesn’t make him smart to have the last word.”
To my shock, at that biting retort, Merry busted out laughing.
Then I got it.
Jones didn’t leave the last word to Merry. He took it. Which meant he’d called his own damned self stupid.
I grinned.
Merry stopped laughing and stood, arms still on his chest, watching Jones walk to his rental car at the curb.
I stayed inside the door as Merry and I both watched Jones get in it, start it up, and drive away.
Merry turned his head to watch it go down the street.
I kept waiting.
Then he dropped his head and shifted to move up the steps of my stoop toward me.
I opened the door and opened my mouth to share with him how totally awesome he was, but I didn’t get a word out before he lifted his head, looked at me and I saw the ice still in his eyes.
I held the door, unable to move until he put his hand on it and kept moving toward me, which meant I had to move out of his way.
The storm whispered then banged and Merry locked it.
Then he slammed my front door, and locked that.
But he slammed it, the unexpected noise sounding loud in my silent living room, making me jump then slowly, step by step, retreat.
He again turned eyes of blue ice to me.
“That happen to you a lot?” he asked.
His conversational tone didn’t fool me, so I kept retreating.
“Stop moving,” he ordered.
I stopped moving.
“That happen to you a lot, Cher?” he pushed.
I opened my mouth, but my movement was again slowed by his vibe filling the air so full, it weighed on me.
Suddenly, he leaned forward and roared, “That happen to you a lot?”
“Not so much anymore, Merry,” I answered.
“Not so much anymore,” he repeated after me.
“Sometimes,” I shared carefully.
“Ethan open the door to that shit?” he asked.
“No,” I answered and thankfully did not lie.
“They call?” he kept at me.
Slowly, I nodded but added verbally, “Not so much anymore with that either.”
“Then, they don’t get what they want ’cause you shut them down, they come to the door?”
“Yeah, but not so much,” I reiterated. “Not anymore. Swear, Merry.”
“Think they’re targeting the weak,” he stated.
“Maybe it starts like that, but if they make it to my door, I handle it and educate them different.”
“You handle it,” Merry again repeated after me.
“Merry,” I whispered.
At the sound of his name, suddenly and without warning, he charged me. Automatically, I retreated and had to do it fast, so I tripped over my feet. Thankfully, that happened in a strategic place, so when I started to fall back, my shoulders slammed against the wall instead of me landing on my ass.
I could make no further move because Merry was so close to me, he was fencing me in.
Even if he wasn’t, he grabbed my wrist, lifted my hand, and pressed it to the wall over my head.
I sucked in a sharp breath of surprise and held it, lifting my other hand toward his chest, not knowing if I intended to rest it there in an attempt to calm him or push it against him in an attempt to escape.
I wouldn’t find out because he caught that wrist too, and then both of them were pinned to the wall over my head.
“Is there an us?” he asked.
My breasts brushed his chest as I started breathing heavily.
“Goddamn it, Cher, is there an us?” he clipped.
“I want there to be.”
Fuck!
It came out because he was freaking me out.
Fuck!
“Then there’s an us,” he declared firmly.
Oh God.
He wanted that to be too.
That made me unimaginably happy.
And it scared the absolute fucking shit out of me.
“And there bein’ an us, Cher, that means you’re mine. Ethan’s mine. Are you followin’ me?”
“Merry—”
“Yes or no, you followin’ me?”
I swallowed and it hurt that mid-throat it hitched because I needed way more than my normal oxygen in that moment and shutting my mouth to swallow meant not sucking in air.
“Answer me, sweetheart,” he ordered.
“Yes, I’m followin’ you.”
He adjusted my wrists to hold them in one hand so he could rest his other hand at my upper chest, right at the base of my throat.
This did not mean he was calming down or about to let me go.
It meant something else.
I just didn’t know what.
Yet.
“You’re followin’ me, which means you get me, which means from now on, any asshole phones you, you tell me,” he commanded.
That was when it occurred to me that his motions were claiming.
Shit.
“Okay, Merry.” I thought it sensible in his current mood to agree.
His hand at the base of my throat slid down, and suddenly, I wasn’t uncertain about the situation.
Well, not true. My head still was, but my body was having a different reaction.
“They come to the door, you do not lose your mind on them. I’m not close, you shut the door in their face and call me immediately.”