Say You're Mine: An Enemies to Lovers Romance (Southport Love Stories Book 4), Sarah Brooks [urban books to read .txt] 📗

“Is that Robert?” Whitney peered through her windshield.

“That’s exactly who it is,” I said through clenched teeth. I closed the door and leaned down to talk to her through the partially open window. “Why don’t you come in for a bit—”

“Sorry, Sky, I’ve gotta pick up Katie,” Whitney announced, putting the car into reverse.

“What happened to waiting and calling 9-1-1 if I needed to?” I yelled as she started pulling away.

She held her arm out of the window and waved as she booked it down the driveway.

I sighed and mentally prepared myself as I turned and headed toward the house. I could hear Edgar going nuts inside. Robert watched me; his hands shoved deep into his pockets. He had obviously just come from work. He was wearing tailored grey pants and a button-down green shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbow. His top button was undone and the tie loose around his neck. His glasses had slipped down his nose and his hair had the messy quality of someone who had spent many hours combing his hands through it.

He looked amazing. Bastard.

“You want to back away from the door, please? Poor Edgar is going to claw his way through the wood.” My words were clipped with annoyance as I pulled my keys out to unlock the door. “What are you doing here?”

Robert picked up a large item wrapped in shipping paper and moved to the side. “Sorry, I should have called, but I figured I’d just swing by after work.”

I gave him a bland look. “Swing by? It’s a little out of the way for you to ‘swing by.’” I put my key into the door and turned the lock.

As soon as I opened the door, Edgar flew out a ball of pent-up energy and fur. And he went straight for Robert, who had gone down on his haunches in preparation. He held out his hand and let Edgar sniff his fingers. Edgar was wary—it had been a while since Robert had been to the house—but after thirty seconds, he seemed to remember him and gave his hand a lick before turning his attention to me. Obviously, my big, ferocious dog didn’t view Robert as a threat.

“What’s that?” I asked, indicating the large package he was holding. I walked into the house and turned on the lights. I left the door open but didn’t invite him in.

Robert stood uncertainly in the doorway. “Um, is it okay if I come inside?”

“Why not, I’ve been shopping all day, it can’t get any worse.” I kicked off my shoes and hung up my coat. All I could think was getting to the kitchen. If I was going to have to talk to Robert—alone at that—I needed a beer. “So, are you going to tell me what it is, or is this a guessing game?”

“Should I come back another time?” Robert suggested, taking off his shoes and lining them up next to mine. I hated how I like the way that looked.

Trust your instincts, Sky. No man is worth it.

“Why? So you can bug me later? No thank you. Might as well get it over with now.” I was being purposefully mean. I knew my words had their intended effect. A flash of hurt crossed Robert’s face before it was smoothed away.

And I felt bad about it.

Damn it.

“Okay well, I guess let me just give this to you then and I’ll get out of your hair.” Robert lifted up the package and held it out. I went to take it from him before he stopped me. “Be careful. It’s heavy. And it’s fragile. Maybe I can carry it into the kitchen for you?”

It was on the tip of my tongue to say something snarky. To give him shit for implying I wasn’t strong enough or capable enough.

But I didn’t. Because I knew Robert didn’t think any of those things. I could be mad at him. I could be upset by his perceived rejection. But I couldn’t pretend he was some sexist pig who felt he had to take care of the ‘little lady.’ That wasn’t Robert’s style.

“Sure,” was all I said, waving him down the hallway. “You know the way.”

Robert walked past me to the kitchen. Edgar barreled past him and he had to sidestep my beast of a pet, so he didn’t drop whatever it was he was holding.

I followed him, forcing myself to keep my eyes on his shoulders and not his very well sculpted backside which his trousers hugged nicely.

I will not look at his butt.

I will not look at his butt.

I turned on the kitchen lights as Robert carefully laid the package on the table. “Okay, well, here you go. I hope you like it.” He hesitated awkwardly then gave me a weird half wave, not meeting my eyes. “See you later.” Robert had the look of a puppy who had just been kicked. It made me feel guilty. And irritated for being made to feel guilty.

“Hang on a second,” I sighed before he could leave. “At least hang out while I open this up. You went to all the effort of driving it out here.”

“Only if you’re sure.”

I sighed again, this time louder and with more exasperation. “Whatever, just hand me the scissors in that drawer behind you.”

Robert did as directed, handing me the scissors. I approached the table and he moved back a few steps, giving me personal space. Always the gentleman. I sliced open the packaging. Whatever was inside required multiple layers of padding. I pulled away the bubble wrap to reveal a large stained glass window.

I gasped when I saw it.

“Oh my god,” I breathed, staring down at the intricate design of vibrant colors. “I—Oh my—I can’t—” I stammered, not able to get a fully constructed sentence out of my mouth.

I carefully picked it up so that it was upright. It was the size of a normal window but was encased in lacquered wood. It contained