“Scares me, prospect of you gettin’ hurt,” he murmured, his hand brushing against the still fading bruise on my eye.

It felt surreal, that a mark still existed on my body from a time when Rowan and I weren’t this. That this relationship—if that’s what this was—had yet to outlast a bruise on my skin.

“I sometimes go to a place I’m not proud of,” he continued, eyes soft now. “Become a man you shouldn’t see. One who doesn’t deserve a woman like you.”

He was punishing himself now. I could see that. Feel it.

There were a bunch of things I could’ve said to that. Like the fact that I wanted to see all of him, even the versions of himself he wasn’t proud of. That a dark and slightly shameful part of me was turned on by this slightly unhinged, dangerous man who’d lost control at the thought of me getting hurt.

But those things weren’t appropriate conversations to have in a parking lot. Or in a relationship that had yet to outlast a bruise on my face.

“Take me home,” I requested instead.

He stared at me a beat longer, before he pressed his lips against mine and murmured, “okay, cupcake.”

Chapter Eleven

Recipe: Pistachio Pinwheels

From ‘Dessert Person’

A romantic dinner was out of the question after the events of that afternoon.

The energy was not the kind I wanted following us on our first date. Especially considering we’d had our first fight today. Which was incredibly unbelievable, me yelling at Rowan like we were some kind of couple. Him declaring he was going to kill a man for me like we were in some kind of movie or novel.

We’d driven home in silence. You couldn’t exactly say that things were tense, but there was something between us that didn’t have any right to be there. It added another intimate layer to a relationship that wasn’t really a relationship.

But Rowan’s hand was on my thigh the entire drive home.

The entire drive.

It made me feel glued to my seat while also floating among the clouds. It made me feel a part of something. That we were tangible and real, and it was perfectly normal for him to be driving me home in my car, with Maggie resting her head on the console between us, his hand firm on my thigh.

There were no words at all during the drive. Not even when he pulled into my driveway and we all got out, him taking off his boots at the front door, and Maggie trotting to the French doors, waiting patiently for me to let her out.

I did so, watching the chocolate lab sprint around my large backyard, discovering all sorts of new smells and marking her territory.

The wind blew the curtains inward, bringing with it the crisp fall breeze that made my insides relax.

I felt him behind me. Warm. Large. Unyielding.

On instinct, I leaned back against him.

He smelled of something that was utterly unique to him.