“Oh, dear, I was just practicing …” Felicity let her voice trail off as she noticed me standing there. “What is she doing here?”

My brows shot up. She didn’t sound very friendly. “I just came to ask—”

“She was just leaving,” Derek interrupted me, grabbing my elbow roughly and jerking me toward the door.

“Was that a crash?” Derek’s brother Carson came running down the stairs, taking them two at a time. “Mother, are you okay?”

“Yes, but there’s a mess in there.” Felicity pointed toward the french doors and Carson looked in that direction, catching sight of me on the way.

“Oh. Hi, Willa.” His eyes went to Derek’s hand on my elbow and he shot me a confused and apologetic look.

“Hi, Carson—” Derek cut off my words by tugging me forcefully in the direction of the door. I turned, looking back over my shoulder at Carson, then craning to see what was going on in the room beyond the french doors. I couldn’t see a thing, though, and the movement was making my leg hurt.

Derek pulled the front door open with one hand, and shoved me through the threshold backwards. Inside the house, I could see Felicity gesturing wildly to Carson about something. Carson was making soothing motions, I assumed to calm her down. I looked at Derek.

“Hey, wait. I—”

Derek slammed the door in my face and I stumbled backward. I could feel my bad leg starting to give out on me and I braced for the impact of the cold, granite steps, screwing my face up into a grimace and flapping my arms.

But, instead of feeling the sharp edge of the hard rock steps, I found myself in a pair of strong arms. I twisted around, my heart thudding against my rib cage and looked straight into the steely gray eyes of … Eddie Striker.

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty

“What are you doing here?” I asked through pain-clenched teeth.

“I should be asking the same of you.” He looked up at the imposing oak door. “What did you do to him to make him slam the door on you like that?”

“Nothing,” I said, although not with as much indignation as I’d intended, because I was distracted by his woodsy, leathery smell. I probably smelled like medicinal peppermint.

“So, what are you doing here?” He gently eased me back up onto my feet.

Instead of answering, I gingerly tested my left leg, wincing in pain as I increased the pressure.

Striker’s face turned hard. “Did he hurt you?”

“No, the weather makes it act up.” Of course, Derek’s forceful exit didn’t help any, but I didn’t need Striker getting all macho and defending me.

“Where does it hurt?”