Chapter 16 Brodan #2
I snorted. I’d worked with the attractive Swedish actor on a film last year, we fucked once, and it was barely memorable for either of us.
Sometimes, even if you had good chemistry on screen, it did not translate to the bedroom.
“Let her write whatever nonsense she wants. As long as she’s not here, that’s all I care about. ”
“I don’t know how you cope with people making up stories about you,” Arro said, her brows pinched together. “It would drive me nuts.”
“Which is why you’re not an actor.”
“Do you miss it?” Thane asked seriously.
I felt Lachlan’s eyes on me now.
“Aye and no,” I answered. “It’s complicated.”
Thane nodded, seeming to understand.
“You should start thinking about finding somewhere more permanent to live,” Regan advised. “Now that you’re staying.”
“Am I staying?” I teased.
She scowled at me. “Why wouldn’t you want to stay here surrounded by the people who love you?”
“Point well made.” I bit into the rest of the taco, feeling my family watch me, waiting for me to say more. Swallowing the bite, I chuckled. “I’m staying, okay. I have no plans to leave anytime soon. But I’m not rushing into buying a house.”
“Or building one?” Arran raised an eyebrow.
“Or building one. Just yet.”
That seemed to appease them.
“You know who needs a house.” Arro shot me a quick look before addressing Arran. “Monroe.”
My stomach dropped.
“Gordon told me yesterday that he accepted a delivery for a freestanding electric fire that Roe’s putting in his caravan. He’s not thrilled about it because he’s worried it’s a fire hazard, but I asked what else he expects her to do. The caravan is twenty years old and bloody Baltic.”
“That I can testify to.” Robyn nodded. “And I didn’t stay in it in the winter.”
“What can we do?” Eredine asked, her worry for a stranger evident. “Arran has tried talking to her about moving out of there, taking help from us, but she won’t listen.”
“I know. I offered her Mac’s cottage at a discount, but she turned it down.” Arro shared an exasperated look with her husband.
I felt that exasperation rise in me.
Why the hell wouldn’t she just accept help from someone?
The rest of the evening was a blur. I barely checked into the ever-moving conversation and excused myself early, much to the chagrin of Regan, who’d bought a chocolate pie from Sloane Harrow for dessert.
I hugged the women goodbye and when I wrapped my arms around Robyn, I whispered, “Which caravan?”
She stiffened in my arms and eased back, studying my face. Then decisively, she whispered in return, “The last one on the beachfront.”
I squeezed her gratefully, even though I wasn’t quite certain why I’d asked. Until I got in the Range Rover I had permanently borrowed to drive toward the castle and at the last second, I took the road leading to the beach. To Gordon’s caravan park.
There were very few lights on in the caravans as I followed the road toward the beachfront properties.
The SUV turned onto gravel, the stones crunching beneath the tires as I glided it slowly toward the end.
I parked the car, facing the water, my eyes drawn to the last caravan.
Sure enough, Monroe’s old car was parked outside, the caravan lit up like a beacon.
Like a target.
She wasn’t safe here.
Stubborn woman.
Angry at her stupidity and pride, I jumped out of the SUV and marched across the gravel and up the steps of the caravan. I could hear the murmur of a TV show coming from inside and raised my fist to bang impatiently on the door.
Hearing a muttered curse, anticipation thrummed through me, heating my blood.
A curtain on one window near the front of the caravan moved, and a shadowed face peered out.
Then footsteps thundered toward the door.
It flew open, and there she was.
Monroe Sinclair.
Her long hair was piled on top of her head in a messy bun, her face wiped clean of makeup, and she wore a thermal top and bottoms as pajamas.
“What the hell are you doing here?” she snapped.
I took that as an invitation and barged in, slamming the door shut behind me.
Tugging on my scarf, I stared around at the tight surroundings.
A laptop was open on the bench sofa at the front of the van, and we were standing in the middle of a galley kitchen.
At the other end, I saw a narrow hallway that led to a double bed at the back.
The bathroom must have been in a door behind the kitchen.
A tiny electric fire was on the floor near the couch.
Fuck.
“Are you taking the piss?” I whirled around to glare at her as I threw my scarf down on her kitchen counter.
“Are you?” she yelled, her face flushed with indignation. Her gray eyes were bright under the awful aluminum lighting.
It should be a crime for a woman to look as beautiful as she did in blue thermals without a scrap of makeup on.
“Look at this place, Monroe. What the fuck is wrong with you that you can’t accept help from my sister? You’d rather freeze your arse off in a caravan than give that fucking pride of yours a rest.”
“Stop swearing at me!”
I gritted my teeth. “Anything could happen to you here. You do know Robyn was fucking attacked by Fergus in this very caravan? Difference is, Robyn can take care of herself.”
Monroe’s eyes blazed. “I can take care of myself. Believe you me, I have been taking care of myself since I could crawl, Brodan Adair! How dare you barge in here, yelling at me, when you couldn’t give a shit if an entire army of Dothraki kidnapped me!”
“I thought that was every woman’s fantasy.”
Her nostrils flared. “Fuck you! And get out!”
“Not without you. Grab your shit, we’re leaving.” I strode toward her bedroom. “Is your suitcase in here?”
“Stop!” she snarled behind me.
I ignored her, searching the tight space. Where the fuck did she keep anything? There was no storage.
“Stop!” Monroe grabbed my arm, tugging me toward her. “Stop this craziness right now. Stop pretending like you care. You’ve made it quite clear that you don’t. I don’t need this or want this in my life, Brodan.”
“And what is this?” I crowded her, forcing her backward until her legs hit the bed.
Heat swirled in my gut.
“Your myopic behavior!”
“My myopic behavior?” I raised an eyebrow. “You’re the one who came back.”
“Because I thought you were gone!”
Hurt flared through me, and I stepped closer until my body pressed to hers. “So you did factor me in, in your decision to return?”
She glowered up at me. “God! What do you want from me?”
I glared back at her, not knowing what the fuck I wanted anymore.
Before I could decide, Monroe let out a sexy growl of frustration before she reached up and yanked my head down toward hers, crushing her lips over mine.