Healing Haven - Book 2 in Haven Series [Complete]

18| Check and Mate ***Adult Content***

By the time he got home, Ethan was fuming, seething and all but frothing at the mouth. Alyssa's little chicken-shit remark had burned a hole in his pride big as the one tearing through the Ozone, and stayed with him all afternoon.

He'd planned to confront her when he got off shift at the gallery only to find the place was shut down, sheets draped over the windows and a note of 'under renovations' slapped over the doors. The rumble of construction from inside was hard to miss. So he'd been left with no other recourse but to try and burn off his mad through a punishing, hellish hour of plyometrics and cardio at the gym.

After which he'd been a shaking, sweating mess—and close to puking up his lunch—but no less pissed.

And that just pissed him off more.

Not even the thought of tearing it up with his dogs at the park made a dent, so with an apologetic offering of rawhide to Beast and Belle, Ethan shooed them out back and was about to pop open a beer when his phone rang. Seeing his sister's name on the screen, Ethan answered with an aggrieved, "What?"

"Oh, aren't we a ray of sunshine?" she sang out, far too bright and cheery for his tastes. "Can't a girl call her big brother to say hi?"

"I'm not in the mood for games tonight, Jen."

"Who's playing?"

"What," he said between clenched teeth, phone set on speaker and perched on the counter. Otherwise he was liable to crush it in his grip, "do you want?"

"Jeez, someone really needs to get laid. Speaking of, heard you had a little lovers spat today. Wanna talk about it?"

Turning to his fridge, Ethan moved to pluck out the beer he'd been able to open when interrupted by his sister's call. "I'm not even going to ask where this is going." The cop in him knew how to extrapolate the answer from a smattering of facts. Jenelle calling to razz him could only mean one thing: she'd spoken with Alyssa, and Alyssa had dished on whatever it was that had happened that afternoon.

The only recourse left to him was to deny culpability, to play a deaf ear and not give Jenelle even the barest hint of a reaction to sink her teeth into. His sister was a wolf and could scent weakness three miles away. You gave her the barest whiff and she'd be after you for blood.

Knowing this was one thing. Applying it, entirely another as Jenelle's knowing giggle skipped along his already throbbing nerves.

"Alright, no worries. If you want to be as sexually frustrated moron with his head up his ass and too chicken-shit to do anything about it, so be it."

Ethan's body jerked to a stop and he rounded slowly, fingers curling into a white knuckled fist. His eyes lasering to the offending phone he wanted to pummel into dust. "Say that again?"

"Sexually frustrated moron? Or Chicken-shit?"

Snarling, he hung up. That was the last fucking straw.

The drive to her cabin was a test in restraint, his temper aching to punch the gas and rocket there like Superman breaking the sound barrier. Parked around the back, because at this hour to do so on the street would likely see him towed, Ethan shot up the steps, pounded fiercely on the door.

He heard the voice call out from inside and wasn't long before it whisked open, a surprised but impatient expression on her face. So his unexpected arrival was an irritating inconvenience, his thoughts seethed, well too freaking bad.

"Ethan." The door widened and it was then he realized she'd answered the door naked. Or at least naked underneath a short, silky excuse of a robe—hair curled and makeup done. "Hey," she said leaning casually against the frame. "What's up?"