Free Runaway Groom by Virginia Nelson Page B

he leaned against a post, facing her as she plopped the cake on a bench. “Who said I was going anywhere?”
    Her gusty sigh and the flutter of her hands spoke volumes of her frustration. “You don’t have to say it. I know it. You left once. You’re going to leave again. Everyone does eventually. I get that but—”
    “I’m not going anywhere, Abby. I’ve told you that.” His relaxed pose was intentional. He tried to hide the fact that being this close to her left him feeling like a teenage boy, all sweaty palms and unsteady heartbeat. She always got to him like this. Always.
    “No, you didn’t. But even if you did—”
    Enough was enough. Getting into her personal space, he backed her up to a pillar. “How many of the letters have you read, exactly?”
    “The letter thing again. Really?” Another sigh and her hands came up between them, stopping shy of planting themselves on his chest. “Can you back up? You’re crowding me.”
    “No, I won’t back up. I’ve given you a decade of space. I wrote you. I might have been half-assed afraid of your response, a chickenshit, but I never stopped writing. Even when I told you I would stop writing, I still wrote you.”
    “Bullshit!” Now her hands did plant themselves on his chest. Smack! Tears shined in her eyes.
    He shook his head. “The letter thing is why I’m pissed.”
    “You’re pissed? You’re pissed?” She practically yelled the words, punctuating them with more slaps to his chest.
    “Yes. I’m pissed.”
    But it didn’t stop him from wanting to taste her.
    Delving his fingers into her hair, he cocked her head sideways and dipped for a kiss. Sliding his lips across hers, he took what he’d been craving. Maybe he was rough, maybe his fingers shook as he held her face, but it was because it mattered.
    She mattered.
    And she responded. It might have been that little hair trigger response, anger changing to need, but she drove her tongue to tangle with his.
    It only made him want more.
    Cupping her ass, he helped her hike herself up, legs scissoring around his hips to grind herself against his cock. It seemed he’d been walking around with a hard-on ever since he came home. It was all her. Only she made him feel like this.
    All jagged nerves and constant hormones.
    Pressing her into the post, he got lost for a moment in the feel of her surrender.
    But it wasn’t surrender. Not really.
    She still hadn’t read the damn letters.
    Coming up for air, it seemed for a moment he really was drowning in her, as the gasp he sucked in felt harsh. “Yes, Abs. It kind of pisses me off.”
    He let her drop to her feet. Her lips were red from his kiss and her fingers came up to touch them. “Braxton…”
    He resisted scooping her back into an embrace, carrying her home with him, finishing what he started.
    “When you’re ready to hear me, really hear me, come talk to me. I’ll be here. I’ve always been here, Abby.”
    Because whether she believed it or not, he had.

Chapter Thirteen
    January 2, 2012
    Abby,
    I was back in town again, your friendly neighborhood stalker. Lou said you were serious about Jake Hannigan. I caught sight of you two having coffee behind the diner at one of those patio table things they put in. You looked all sweet and romantic, and it made me want to throw up.
    Wonder if he knows you’re the kind of woman who ignores her best friend for a decade?
    Yes, still pissed.
    You are the most stubborn damn woman on the face of this planet, you know that?
    You told me once that a handwritten letter was the sweetest gesture any guy could ever make. We were sitting at lunch at the high school at the time and, as usual, I was a jackass, and just wrote “I heart Abasaurausrex” on a napkin and handed it to you. Asked you if that was sweet.
    You laughed.
    Well, dammit, how many letters have I written you now?
    Someday, I really hope you tell me why you didn’t answer even one of them.
    B
     
    Carnie sliced off a chunk of the cake and slid