“I’m not pissed,” I lie in a tight voice. What I really mean is I don’t want to be pissed because it isn’t his fault I’m drowning here.
“I wasn’t criticizing your decision or your business, Hannah.”
Sure as hell isn’t how it feels.
“Look at me.”
I ignore his command.
“Hannah.” He plays Mr. Forceful very well. I’ll bet he makes guys pee their pants when he wants to.
I turn to him with lips tight. Pressure bottlenecks in my throat, threatening to explode.
“You’re not totally fucked. And you didn’t fuck up, either.”
I blink at him. Interesting summary. Oddly, his words settle around me with a comforting sort of thud.
He cocks his head. “You wanna make this work, right?”
I open my mouth, taken aback by the redirect on my angst. It’s all still sitting there in my chest, but it stopped simmering. Stopped churning. “Yes,” I snap, even though he doesn’t deserve my anger.
“Hey.” He brings one hand to settle on my waist. It does jumpy things to my insides, especially considering how on edge I am. “You’re worried. I get it. But you have choices.”
I find myself drifting closer to him, like the strength in that rock-solid body or his cock-sure attitude will magically transmit to me. “What choices?”
He shrugs. “You can keep worrying and do the same thing you’ve been doing.”
I scowl, my lungs tightening again.
“Or you can start trying new things to grow your business. Because that’s what you want, right? To grow it?”
I nod. Yeah. That’s what I’d imagined when I decided to buy. I didn’t picture myself just maintaining things the way Mary Alice had done them for years, and I definitely didn’t think I’d have even less business than she had.
“I can’t grow it when I have no money to invest. I mean, I couldn’t even get the van fixed to keep deliveries going. That’s why I’ve just been stuck treading water since I bought it.”
“Then you figure something out.”
I blink up at him. “Seriously? That’s your advice?”
“Not every idea costs money. And money doesn’t only come from one source.”
I shake my head. I don’t know why I thought he had some magic answers for me here. “What do you know, anyway?” I mutter, turning away.
He catches my arm and pulls me back. “Either give it up or fight for it, Flowers. Don’t hold your breath and pretend it’s not sinking when it is.”
I’m not the type to get physical with anyone, but I give his chest a hard shove. “Fuck you, Armando.”
I know, not a really profound comeback. But I?—
I lose my train of thought when he captures my wrists and backs me into the wall, his hard body pressed against mine. “Watch it, Flowers.”
I don’t know why I get wet every time he manhandles me. Or threatens me. It’s like my body can’t distinguish his abuse from foreplay. Not that it feels like abuse. His actions definitely read more as foreplay—it’s not just me.
“Get off me,” I whisper, but I clearly don’t mean it.
“Breathe, Flowers.”
I attempt to pull my wrists free, but he tightens his hold. “Breathe, or I’ll make you.”