over my tear-streaked face, I pushed away the stray hair that had escaped from my ponytail.
What was I doing here? What was Adam Ward doing to me? I wanted to go to his door and scream at him to give me answers. Fuck the mystery. I wanted—no, I needed to know how he felt about me. And I needed to hear it from him, not through the opinions and conjectures of others.
With the rain falling harder, I got to my feet and marched to the front door. I had no regard for the mess I surely was. If anything, my physical appearance would be an excellent indicator to Adam of the mess I was inside as well.
Hell with the doorbell! I pounded on the door, leaving muddy rivulets in my wake. I watched as they trailed down, though they were quickly blurred by a fresh surge of tears.
Adam opened the door, eyes widening. “Jesus, Maddy! What the fuck happened to you?”
With a sob I collapsed into his arms, muddying his immaculate white T-shirt and faded jeans. He held me upright, blue eyes darkening with concern as he scanned over my body. “What happened? Are you OK?”
I closed my eyes, tired and broken, and pressed the key to the cottage—his key—into his hand. When he looked at me with confusion, I uttered the only words that came to mind, “I don’t think I can do this anymore, Adam.”
Chapter 18
With no hesitation Adam swept me into his capable arms. But when he tried to carry me upstairs, I balked. “No, I want to go home.”
I really meant back home to California, but the cottage would have to suffice for now. So I amended in barely a whisper, “Just take me back to the cottage.”
I thought he’d argue, but surprisingly, Adam just nodded and carried me out to his car. Once buckled in I slumped in the passenger seat, leaning my head against the cool glass of the window. A muddy clump of hair flopped onto my cheek, and I lazily brushed it back. Glancing down at my mud-smeared sweats and rain-soaked T-shirt, I mumbled off-handedly, “I’m sorry I’m getting your car all dirty and wet.”
“That’s a ridiculous thing to say, Madeleine,” Adam retorted dryly as he glared over at me. “Do you really believe I care so little about you that I’d be more concerned with a little mud and rain water?”
I shrugged, and in response Adam peeled out, barreling down his long driveway to the main road. “Unbelievable,” he muttered.
When I failed to respond, he said no more. The rest of the way was all darkening skies, empty road, and silence.
Once we arrived at the cottage, I jumped out and scampered to the door, but then I realized I hadn’t brought my own keys. And I’d given the one Adam had used back to him. So I had no choice but to move aside as Adam approached the door.
He used the key I pressed into his hand back at his house to unlock the door, and I snapped, “You might as well keep that key, although I’m sure you have plenty more, seeing as you have access to everything on this island.”
Pushing past him—and, boy, did he ever look annoyed—I went into the living room and plopped down on the sofa. “The scene of the crime,” I mumbled, loudly enough for him to hear as he followed me into the room.
“Are you done?” Adam asked.
I ignored him and pulled at the sides of the clinging, muddy T-shirt that was sticking annoyingly to my skin. “I can get you a change of clothes from upstairs,” Adam offered, his demeanor softening as he headed over to the sofa.” You really should get out of those wet clothes.”
He knelt down beside me and gently lifted the hem of my shirt, but as he began to tug it up my torso, I stopped him. “No,” I croaked, clumsily smacking his hand away.
“Maddy,” Adam scolded. “Quit behaving like a petulant child. You’re filthy—”
I pulled my shirt back into place and crossed my arms.
“—You make me feel filthy, Adam!” I cried out, choking back a sob. “What are you planning to do? Clean me up so you can keep on playing me? I’m done with being used. I need more.”
I was upset and angry, and I wanted my words to cut to the quick. I glanced up, and Adam’s eyes, for a moment, were pained. But only briefly.
His expression of hurt rapidly morphed to anger. “Stupid girl,”