Page 47 of How Dare You
She puts down the sketchbook and glares at me, narrowing her eyes in a way that would have anyone else backing down. She should know better than that by now. I’m not anyone else, and that’s why she needs me. I hold her stare and my ground.
She stands up, pushing her shoulder into my chest as she walks by. “Letting loose with you won’t make my life any better. Certainly, hasn’t yet.” If her words were supposed to hurt, she missed the mark. I’m too focused on the fact that she sits in the same chair she’s used every night since she got here. It shouldn’t affect me the way it does, seeing her make a claim over something in my home, even if it’s as subtle as sitting in the same chair. But now that chair, that spot around the fire, will forever be hers.
After plating two steak and veggie meals and adding a log to the fire, I take the seat next to hers, still pulled close together from the other night, and set them on the table between us. “You were saying? I’m no good?” I lean back and wave a hand, indicating I’m giving her the floor.
She crosses her legs, the hem of her short cotton dress riding up her thighs. “That’s not what I said. You can be a terrible listener sometimes.” I don’t respond. She’s talking to me, and even though her words are full of venom, after two days of her avoiding me, I’m happy to hear her voice again. “I said letting loose with you doesn’t make my life better. I have responsibilities, and you are the most distracting man I’ve ever met.” There’s a compliment buried in there. Doesn’t she realize her attempt to keep me at arm’s length is transparent? I take a bite of my steak, leaving her to keep talking. “You are the exact opposite of responsibility.”
That cut does land, though she couldn’t know how deep. I didn’t give her details on why Crystal left me, but hearing almost the same words out of Devon’s mouth hurts even worse than the first time I heard them. With Crystal, I didn’t care to fight back. It only took a couple weeks for the breakup to be a like a relief. But right now, with Devon, I’m not letting this shit fly. Losing her before I ever truly had her isn’t an option. I push back. “So, you’re not strong enough to manage your responsibilities with me around distracting you?”
Her jaw clenches as she leans forward. “I’m strong enough for anything.” Her words are indignant, an unwavering belief, and it’s sexy as hell. “There is a reason why dating people you work with is a terrible idea. It’s common sense. You are everywhere, on every jobsite, and I can barely—” She stops herself abruptly, leaving me hungry for the end of her sentence.
“Careful,” I warn. “The longer you go on about this, the more it sounds like you wish you could date me.” She’s brought it up enough that I’m starting to realize that not dating someone from work is more to her than just a surface level excuse. Even Allie hinted that there’s a history there.
“Is this the conversation you dragged me out here for?” she asks, pulling her plate from the table for the first time and readying a bite. “You’re unbelievably arrogant.”
“It’s fear,” I say, and the fire in her eyes tells me if her mouth wasn’t full of food, she would have objected. “You’re afraid that it wouldn’t work out between us, and then you’d have to see me all the time and be reminded of what you lost.”
She tries to hide her flinch behind rolled eyes. So that’s it. “I wouldn’t date you even if we didn’t work together.” She searches my face for a reaction, but I don’t give her one. Her tongue darts out to run along her lip.
I lift my chin, eyeing her plush mouth. “Did that lie taste good?”
Her response is too quick to be anything but defensive. “You’re not my type.”
“Oh?” I huff an amused breath. It’s like she’s grasping at straws, saying every sharp thing she can come up with and hoping one will finally push me away.
She doesn’t try to defend her stance but shifts the focus onto me. “You don’t even like me.”
“What the,” confusion tangles my words. “How could you possibly—”
“If I’d made this easy for you, you would have gotten over it in a week.” She abandons her plate back to the side table.
My calm resolve almost snaps. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Her voice sharpens with challenge. “Like you don’t know what you’re talking about when it comes to me?”
My laugh is low and taunting. “Oh, I know you, Devon. I’ve had you figured out since you took a stranger up on a staring contest two months ago and then ran away hours later. You are competitive to a fault. And you’re scared.” Her shoulders rise and fall on seething breaths as I continue. “You’re scared of letting your guard down to be with me. You’re scared of letting anyone know you’re struggling. You’re terrified of failing.”
“I don’t fail,” her voice is not arrogant, only matter of fact. And I believe her. Devon may be the one person on the planet who’s never failed at something she set her mind to. “There is nothing for me to fear.”
“Bullshit.” I lean forward. “Failure is an unknown for you. You probably fear it more than anything else. What do you think would happen if you lost Friday West?”
She shivers, an involuntary movement that shows just how abhorrent the idea is to her. “I won’t.”
“But what if you did?” Softening my voice does nothing to bring down her defenses.
Her gaze sharpens. “I will not lose my business. I do not miss.”
I lift my chin in question. “What do your friends say?”
She shakes her head, avoiding eye contact.
“You have told them, right? Does Bea know?” Her silence is answer enough. “Sadie?” Nothing. “Surely, Allie knows.”
“Allie doesn’t know,” she says, her voice just above a whisper.
“How is that possible? You two are closer than sisters. I was surprised you didn’t have her name tattooed on your ass.”
Her chest rises and falls on a deep breath as she rolls her lips between her teeth, and not in the sexy tempting way she did the other night. No, this is a nervous tick, and I hate to see it on her.