Sabrina sent a mortified look to her father. “That’s not—”
“Of course, sir. You’re right, it is rather late. But the ride won’t be necessary.”
“I’ll wait outside the door while you say goodbye.” Jonathan kissed his daughter’s cheek and then walked out the door.
“I’m sorry about that,” Sabrina said in a low whisper. “He’s protective of me. My mom died when I was born, so it’s only been him and me.”
“I understand.” The hand at the small of her back gently pushed her to him. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
A sigh—was it of disappointment?—escaped her mouth as he pressed his lips to her temple. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Cross.”
He wanted to kiss her again, but he restrained himself. Because if he got another taste of her mouth, he wasn’t sure he would be able to leave. Closing the door behind him, he turned to Jonathan, who was waiting by the elevators, arms crossed over his chest.
“I didn’t think you’d leave with me.”
Cross couldn’t quite tell if the man admired him or thought him a fool. “I have an early day tomorrow; I should be headed home too.”
“And where is home?”
From the cut of his clothes to the way his patrician nose looked down on him, Cross knew Strohen was one of those upper crust types who judged other people based on their zip code. “Not far.” A ding told him that the elevator car had arrived and sure enough, the door opened. “After you.”
The ride down with Sabrina’s father was fast, and thankfully, silent.
“Are you sure I can’t drop you off?”
“I’ll be fine, sir.”
“Call me Jonathan.” They strode toward the waiting limo, where the driver was already waiting to open the door. He slipped inside and then turned back to him. “I’ll see you tomorrow night, Cross.”
“I’ll see you then, Jonathan.”
As the limo drove away, Cross contemplated Jonathan Strohen. He seemed to be an important and wealthy man, but also, a doting father. But there was something about him … he just couldn’t figure it out.
His wolf, too, eyed the man suspiciously, which was strange in itself. “There’s nothing to worry about,” he told it. “He’s her father.” The man was just being protective of his only child. Nothing more to it.
Chapter Six
Present Day …
When Sabrina woke up the next day, she was surprised that the table was once again laden with fresh food, and she had a pile of new clothes at the foot of her bed. Of course, there was no sign of Cross, but even if he didn’t leave the food or clothing, she would have known that he’d been there by the lingering scent of chocolate and mint in the air.
Hauling herself out of bed, she immediately went to the table. Her stomach growled the moment the aroma of fresh bread, pancakes, eggs, and coffee hit her nose. Though she was still furious at the man who had brought it, she wasn’t about to cut off her nose to spite her face, especially when there was coffee. As she nibbled on a piece of toast, she wondered what she was supposed to do today. Most of yesterday was spent sketching and painting in the cabin. Well, rage painting anyway. She glanced at the canvas sitting in the corner furtively. Perhaps she had taken her frustration and anger out by painting, since the target of those feelings wasn’t around. The painting was supposed to depict a serene river on a moonlit night, but it had turned darker. Splashes of black paint that were supposed to be shadows looked like frightening monsters lurking in the corner. Even the river looked ominous, like a fierce creature was about to rise out of its depths.
With a long sigh, she put it out of her mind and turned back to the food. However, that kiss played in her head over and over again, like a scene in a movie. It was so clear; she knew it couldn’t have been a dream. Who the hell was Cross, and what was he to her? Why weren’t they friends—or more than friends—anymore? Did he break up with her? Or did she break up with him?
A guilty feeling crawled into her chest. If she wasn’t so confused, she’d laugh. Break up with him? It seemed impossible. He was gorgeous and not an asshole, so that already put him miles above the other guys she’d dated back in art school. If anything, she was still reeling over the fact that he would even give her a second glance. It wasn’t that she didn’t think herself pretty. No, she had an appeal, but she’d never attracted the jock types like Cross.
All this was making her even more confused, so she put it aside for now and ate what she could of the massive feast on the table. As she painted yesterday, she had worked on the leftovers most of the day since no one had come by to give her lunch or dinner. She guessed it would be more leftovers today too.
She grabbed the towel hanging from one of the bed posts and headed to the bathroom. A shower should help her clear her head. She stripped off her pajamas and stepped into the small, but usable stall. Maybe she’d even paint something—
She let out a screech when an unexpected blast of cold water hit her naked body. “Holy mother of—” She nearly slipped as she tumbled out of the shower. Grasping the door, she managed to regain her balance, though the icy water was still spraying at her, making her skin prickle. She reached into the stall to shut off the shower, but somehow, the handle came off in her hand.
“Damn it!” She slammed the stall door shut and scrambled out into the room. What to do, what to do, she thought frantically as she hopped into the fresh clothes at the foot of the bed. Was she supposed to cut off the water supply? Back in
