The last two days have been utter hell in this house. I thought of the chaos caused by my family as the pinnacle of frustrating, but Jace Wilder has all of them beat. The man refuses to look at me, and if I'm lucky, he might grumble a good morning or an excuse me as he maneuvers around me. Beyond that, our communication is non-existent, and I'm tired of this game.

"Why is it you can leave your shoes scattered about or forget your cup on the coffee table, but I rearrange the pillows on the couch, and Jace loses his shit?" I ask.

Cannon peers around the refrigerator door and cocks a brow. "You act as if I'm a complete slob."

I lean against the island and cross my arms over my stomach. "Well, compared to Jace's ridiculously high standards, you kind of are," I say, and when he looks at me with an offended expression, I raise my hands in defense. "Hey, it's not your fault he expects something so far beyond perfection that it's impossible."

"True. One bowl in the sink will not cause the world to crumble around him." Cannon returns to the counter with all the fixings for turkey sandwiches. Without getting a plate out of the cupboard, he prepares our lunch directly on the granite—an act that would send Jace into an epic meltdown. "Why don't you just talk to him? The man is a pretty good listener, not to mention really funny."

I've seen the funny side of Jace a couple times, and it's a side I really, really like. But ever since we argued and nearly kissed—or whatever the hell happened—he hasn't shown me any side except the angry one, and it's intimidating as fuck.

"I've tried to talk to him. I've tried opening up to him. It's like we take one step forward and two steps back. I just think that somewhere deep down, or maybe not so deep down, he doesn't like me. That there's just something about me he can't stand. He likes you. Me, not so much."

Cannon sets the dirty butter knife on the counter and slaps the top slice of bread over the meat and cheese. He grabs two plates from their shelf and tosses our food on top. "You're overthinking this, Desi. You've had guys walk out on you, never call you back, and stand you up, and you're here worrying about Jace. You need to do something to get your mind off him."

I pick up the sandwich and tell him thank you before shoving a bite into my mouth. I haven't eaten all day, and I am what Grub likes to call "hangry."

"You're right, you're right. I just hate that he's my roommate and we can't seem to get along for a prolonged amount of time," I say after swallowing and taking a drink of tea. "But yeah, doing something else sounds fun. But what? Ideas?" I take another bite of my sandwich and drum my fingernails on the countertop.

"Do I have permission to cash in on that second date?"

I think for a moment. I don't want it to seem like I'm going out with Cannon because I'm pissed at Jace, because that actually isn't the case at all. Cannon is funny, sweet, sexy, and he wants to take me out and show me a good time. Is that not what I'm here for?

"Absolutely."

"I feel like you've got a little aggression you need to work off. Dress warm and comfortable and meet me down here in twenty. I'm going to take you somewhere that you can pretend you're sticking it to Jace Wilder."

"That, I like the sound of."

Twenty minutes later, we are in Cannon's Lexus, and he's driving us to some undisclosed location. I am questioning my choice in clothing when he keeps talking about how cold it is outside.

"Did I dress warmly enough?" I ask, looking down at my black yoga pants, purple puffer jacket, and white Nikes I'd finally broken in after almost a month. "You keep mentioning the cold, and I'm getting paranoid."

"We are going to be outside, but don't worry, I'll make sure you stay warm."

We drive to the outskirts of the city, and Cannon pulls into a dirt parking lot with a wooden sign advertising archery. My insides roll with the thought of me using a new weapon. My father and brothers are versed in all manners of combat, but I never found joy in it like they did. So I was taught the basics of self-defense and left to lounge by the pool or spend time with friends.

Cannon opens the passenger side door and holds his hand out to me. "You ready to burn some energy by shooting things with arrows?"

I take his hand but hesitate before moving to get out of the car. "I—uh, would you believe me if I told you I've never shot a bow and arrow before? I have no idea how to do it."

He runs his long fingers over my knuckles. "Maybe that is all part of my devious plan to get close to you."

My lips turn up into a smile as I climb out of the car and let him pull me against his side. I don't let go of his hand as I say, "Well, please, continue. I'd love to see where this plan takes us."

I look at Cannon from the corner of my eye as we walk into the building to rent bows and arrows. He looks good with his gray hoodie and black jacket, but it is his joggers that have my mind going to deep, dark places. "Ready?" Cannon asks, snapping me out of my wandering thoughts.

I literally jump and hold out my hand for the weapon. "Yep. Yep. I'm ready. Let's shoot 'em up." I dip my brow and bite my lip. "Wait, that didn't sound right, did it? I—uh, shit. Let's...do target practice?"

He shakes his head and laughs. "I'll teach you how to 'shoot 'em up.' Come on."

He leads me to the back of the building where several individual shooting ranges are lined up with a bullseye at the end. We set down our quivers and Cannon walks me through some basics. He is a great teacher—patient, descriptive, and very hands-on when he shows me how to nock an arrow.

"This is going to take some upper body strength, so don't get too frustrated if you fall short the first few times you shoot," he says from behind me, helping me to aim at the target.

I hold back my grin. I have upper body strength for days after 125 years of staying in decent physical shape, but I do have a feeling my aim is going to suck. I let him guide my arm to assist with the aiming, but when I let go of the arrow, I do it with all my strength, and it hits the board. Nowhere near the target, but it hits the board.

I look over my shoulder at him and smile. "What were you saying about falling short?"

He holds his hands up and smiles. "Not a damn thing. You might be a natural at this. Let's just hope that you're not crying for your arms to fall off tomorrow."

I give him a wink and ready the next arrow. He moves behind me again, adjusting my stance. I shiver when his hand grips my hip and turns it a bit. The small liberty he takes with my body sends my insides fluttering. "Just pretend the middle is Jace with that exasperated look on his face when you don't do something just the way he likes it, and let it fly."

I snort and say, "All right. I think I can do that." I draw my elbow back, and when the arrow is ready to fly, I release it, and this time, it sails all the way to the board and hits the bottom of the target.

Cannon laughs and wraps his arm around my waist, pulling me against him. "Well, at least you shot him in the balls."

"So, you think I'm a threat with a bow and arrow?"

He pulls me closer, his hands splayed across my stomach. His breath warms my neck, and his lips brush my ear as he says, "I'm not sure, but you are very sexy when you're going for the kill."

I turn in his arms and drop the weapon onto the chair beside us, wrapping my arms around his neck as I press my front to his, sucking in a breath as I feel his desire brush against my lower abdomen. "Oh, really? I think that's the first time anyone's ever said that to me before. I have to admit I kind of like it."

"Yeah? You like knowing you're turning me on? I could whisper all my dirty thoughts about you if that's what you want."

My cheeks flush and I glance around. There aren't a lot of people here, but there are a few. We are by no means alone. "Right here?"

Cannon grazes his nose along the side of my neck. "If that's what you want, but I've got to warn you that I can't be held responsible for the effects and the damage done to these tight little yoga pants."

I raise an eyebrow. Now I'm too curious to stop. "Trust me; the damage has already been done. Tell me."

"Whenever I get a chance to eat breakfast with you, all I can think about is bending you over the counter and sliding my hand inside those tiny pajama shorts of yours. The night you were stood up, my first thought was to make you forget by making you come on my fingers. Do you want me to go on?"

I swallow and draw my bottom lip between my teeth, clenching my thighs together as I run one hand down the center of his chest. "Yes. Please."

"I want you right now," he says, pressing his hard cock against my hip.

Suddenly, I'm too hot; my skin feels like it's too tight over my bones, my clothes are too heavy, the air is stifling, not close to 20 degrees, more like 100, and panic is creeping in. It had been fun, hearing Cannon tell me the things he thinks are sexy about me, letting him put his hands on my hips, tell me his naughty thoughts he's had about me, but to feel him press his erection to my body has me completely freaked out. The only time I've been so close to a male's...most private parts...is the other night at the club when Patrick forced himself on me. I know this isn't the same. Cannon is my friend and we've been flirting for weeks. Cannon is not like Patrick. But it still scares me. I can't control the psychological effect Patrick's assault had on me, and I didn't even realize there were any effects until just now.

I back away from him an inch or so. "I—fuck, Cannon, I don't know what to—I—" I'm stammering like a moron, but I don't know what to say. I don't want him to think I'm not attracted to him, because I am, but I'm overwhelmed. "I can't do this right now. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize. I thought you were into this. I didn't mean to push any boundaries."

I shake my head and run my fingers through my hair. Reaching into the seat and moving the bow and arrow, I pull him onto the bench next to me. "Please. Sit and let me explain. I am into this. I'm into you. It's not you. It's—"

"'It's not you, it's me'? Oh, come on Desi," he says, but I can tell he's teasing. "I didn't think you'd been dating long enough to use that old standby yet."

I elbow him in the ribs. "No. It's not me either. It's something that happened to me the other night."

All humor fades from his expression and he turns toward me, taking my hands in his. "What? What are you talking about?"

"Do you remember the night when I tried to call and text you and you didn't answer because you were in that meeting that ran late?"

He nods. "Yeah, I'm sorry for that again, I—"

I shake my head. "It's okay, Jace came to get me. Anyway, that's not the point. That night, I was at a nightclub because I wanted to dance. I went by myself, and some creepy asshole tried to force himself on me...pushed his junk all over me and I had to kick him in the balls to get him to let me go. It was pretty scary," I say, chewing the inside of my bottom lip, unable to meet his eyes.

"That's not cool. Now I really wish I would have answered your call. You shouldn't have had to endure that."

"I just don't think I'm ready for the serious physical stuff yet." I want to be touched and desired, and I like Cannon. He makes me feel special, and I'm having fun with him. But I know I need different experiences, to find that spark that leaves me desperate for more.

He lifts my chin with one finger to meet his eyes. "Hey, I enjoy spending time with you, Desi. And if that is all this is, I'm okay with that," Cannon says, and the amount of sincerity in his blue eyes melts my heart. He is so close to perfect.

I lace my fingers with his. "I'm not ready for the serious physical stuff." I run my thumb over his knuckles and bring the back of his hand to my lips. "This, though, I'm more than okay with."

He flashes me a bright smile. "Do you want to continue shooting imaginary Jace in the dick or would you like to grab some dessert? I know this pie place that has to be heaven on earth."

I pick up the bow and arrow and take up the position to shoot at the target. "I think I want to take a few more shots. Then pie sounds perfect."

I try to picture Jace with that indifferent look on his face, the chiding tone in his voice when I don't do something the way he wants me to, but the image wavers. He doesn't always show disinterest, and he has spoken to me with care. It is like he wants to be friends with me but every time we take a step forward something pulls him back. Jace Wilder may come off as a no-nonsense type of man who lives a simple life, but something complex is stewing beneath the surface.

That's not to say that Jace isn't an asshole, because he definitely takes the prize in that category. And in those moments, he deserves an arrow to the groin. But what I really want is to learn why he feels the need to push me away. And I'll be damned if I don't get the answer.