Chapter Four
Aubrey slammed thedoor, slapped at the light switch on the wall, and kicked off her shoes. The more miles she put between her and Serge Adams, the angrier she grew. She'd worked her ass off for the last four years building a solid business plan only for him to come in and treat her that way because she was a woman who he believed could be bought for sex.
She jumped through hoops, filled out permits, battled Harrington, dealt with insurance companies, and struggled to feed each person who sought shelter. And she did it on her own at twenty-four years old.
Who was he to assume anything about her?
She walked to the fridge and removed a bottle of wine. After getting scared half to death, putting up with his insane offer, and finding out who the mysterious sexy man who'd trespassed in the shelter was, she deserved to consume the whole bottle. She poured herself a glass, and decided a spoonful of Nutella was also called for.
Men. They were all alike. Sex. Sex. Sex. Then, the minute they lose interest, they hit the road—leaving the woman and the baby.
Her sperm donor had done the same thing to her mom, based on the stories she heard before she'd died. Her mom was an angry, bitter woman who clung to the hatred of what Aubrey's father had done to her and placed all the pain on her daughter, as if she had any part in what happened.
She shoveled another spoonful of Nutella into her mouth and followed it with a healthy swallow of wine. She tapped her fist against the counter as the combo exploded in her head. Not only was Serge an asshole, but he was also an asshole with a cool name.
Most of all, she hated how she excused his behavior because he was sexy. He had the right amount of grumpiness that appealed to her. The ultimate bad boy who only improved as they aged. She groaned. Her mistake.
The doorbell rang. She sputtered her lips at the interruption. It was not the right time for Mrs. Sullivan, who lived next door, to appease her curiosity about why she'd arrived home later than normal.
She picked up the jar, walked to the front door, and scooped more Nutella into her mouth before swinging the door open. "Everything is okay, Mrs—
"Aubrey," Serge said.
She swung the door, but he blocked it from closing with his hand and stepped inside. She backed up and pointed the spoon at him. "Get out."
He closed the door and slipped his hands into his pockets. "I've insulted you."
"You think?" She dug the spoon into the jar and stuffed her mouth full of Nutella but even her favorite indulgence wouldn't make Serge go away. "I'm not a whore."
"No, you're not." His mouth softened. "Believe it or not, I've never met anyone like you."
Okay. Well, then. Um. That was nice. She swallowed and rubbed her lips together. "Your non-apology accepted. You can go now."
He closed the distance between them and swiped his thumb along the corner of her mouth. "Got a little something right here..."
She licked her lip, encountered his thumb, and stilled. His gaze heated, and her breath hitched.
He lowered his head. "I'm going to kiss you."
"No," she said.
His gaze stayed on her lips. "Why not?"
Unable to help herself, she tapped her foot against his shoe. "Because no is no."
He hooked her hair behind her ear. "I wanted to kiss you the moment you stood on those bleachers, ready to take on a gym full of men."
She cleared her throat. "You thought I was helpless."
"No, I thought you were beautiful."
She pushed against his chest. "Get out."
"Not going anywhere, Bree. I apologize for scaring you."
"You insulted me."
