Page 125 of Sweet Nightmare

He stares at me as if I’ve just confessed to eating rocks for fun.

“Are you okay in the fucking head?”

“You do enjoy cussing, don’t you?”

“I enjoy fucking the most.”

I blink and he smirks.

Of course. Of all the things he could have said.

I narrow my eyes.

He narrows his.

For several seconds, we stare at each other while snow falls between us.

Then his gaze drops to my boots before traveling back up.

“Why are you out here when you could be soaking in your million-dollar bathtub instead of freezing your ass off?”

I mentally roll my eyes.

What a simple douchebag.

“I’m walking,” I reply, my voice bored.

“No shit.” He gestures at the snow surrounding us. “But again…”

His eyes sweep over the garden.

“In a fucking blizzard.”

“Yes. During a storm.”

“Why?”

“Because I have legs. Why else?”

His jaw tightens. Even from several feet away, I can see the muscle twitch beneath his skin.

Good.

I’m irritating him.

Finally, something we have in common.

“You trying to escape?”

He pins me with those coffee-brown eyes, but I don’t cower.

I honestly wouldn’t even know how.

“Escape?”

“That’s usually why people sneak out the back door during storms.” His gaze flicks toward the door behind me. “Seems desperate.”

“I didn’t sneak out.”