Page 75 of Love Bomb

She hopped around as she pulled on her boots. Fire blazed in her eyes.

“I’m not sure what will solve your problems,” she said. “But I think it might take a team of psychiatrists to get the job done.”

“I’m serious here, Rona.” Bain thrust his hands through his hair as he searched for a way to make her understand. “You want me to prove that I’m not just after you for a night of sex and this is the way to do it. If you marry me, we can take our time getting to know each other again, while you have the reassurance you need to enjoy our relationship.”

She stopped dead in front of him, her hair wild around her face and her cheeks flushed.

“Are you kidding me?” she said. “‘Marry me. Because I’d like to date you?’ This isn’t a Sandra Bullock movie. And you sure as hell aren’t Ryan Reynolds. Get out of my way.”

She shoved him aside and stomped through the bedroom door.

Bain followed. “What does that even mean?” he called after her as she rushed down the stairs.

She spun around at the bottom and glared up at him. “It’s a movie. The Proposal. Look it up when your sanity returns.”

She stalked toward the kitchen.

Bain ran after her. “I don’t understand why you’re so angry,” he said as he watched her stuff Tom Cat into his carrier. “Or why you’re packing up the cat?”

“I’m going back to the hotel,” Rona said.

“Oh, come on.” Bain threw up his hands. “You can’t go back there. It’s full of your parents. I’ll make us a cup of tea and we’ll sit down and discuss this like adults.”

“Like adults?” Her voice went into dog whistle territory. “I said I didn’t want a one-night stand and you proposed! How is that mature?”

She balanced Tom’s litter tray on top of her roller suitcase, which was still packed and sitting in the hallway. Then she picked up the cat carrier and stalked toward the door, dragging the case behind her.

“Rona,” Bain followed. “Be reasonable. You’re acting like I lost my mind, when all I did was offer a sensible solution to our problem.”

She put the carrier down and threw the door open. Cold, icy wind blasted into the house, reminding Bain that he was naked. And that it was still the middle of the night. He should have gotten dressed. How could she take him seriously when his dick was hanging out?

“I’m not going to marry you so you can sleep with me,” Rona snapped. “I’ve heard you coax many a girl with promises over the years, but never a bloody wedding. This is going too far.”

Outside, the snow was falling again, and for some reason the sight irritated Bain.

“I didn’t propose to get you into bed.” He grabbed the door as she bumped her way over the threshold, almost losing the cat litter tray in the process. “I didn’t need to. We both know that if I hadn’t gotten out of bed to get a condom, we wouldn’t even be having this conversation. We would have already had sex and we’d be curled up under my duvet, nice and warm, instead of freezing our arses off in the snow because you’re offended that I asked you to marry me.”

“You’re right,” she snapped. “Your ‘no glove, no love’ policy saved me some heartache. Thank you.”

She started hauling her luggage down the short path, each step fueled by fury.

“Would you be reasonable?” Bain called after her. “You can’t walk to the pub in this weather.”

Rona let go of her wheelie bag and opened the gate. “I don’t have to,” she snapped before raising her hand.

There was a beep and the lights of his truck flashed.

“Rona,” Bain said. “Don’t you dare take my truck.”

This was adding insult to injury. First she rejects his offer of marriage and now she steals his truck?

She glared at him over her shoulder. “Stop me,” she said.

For a second, Bain contemplated running out into the snow to do exactly that, but by the time he got to her he’d have contracted frost bite—and not just in his toes.

He glanced around the narrow hallway for something to wear. There was nothing. Rona, meanwhile, had loaded a howling Tom into the truck and was lifting in her suitcase.

“Rona,” he tried again. “You’re overreacting.”