Timmy pulled his hand, leading him up the stairs. Jenna limped back into the house. He followed her slow pace, telling himself that questions weren’t allowed.
He had rules about women, rules that included not asking questions, not getting personal. Because he knew how much it hurt to be used, to be fooled. But he couldn’t admit that, because he was Adam Mackenzie, he could take a hit and keep going.
“What can I do?” He pulled off his hat and hung it on a nail next to the back door.
Jenna turned, her face flushed. “Pour the tea? I have glasses with ice waiting in the fridge.”
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