the
weekend, and I have a feeling you would take a lifetime.”
Though my statement had been sharp and
practically acerbic, he didn’t storm off in a huff. Instead, he
offered a punctuated laugh. “Somehow I don’t think you could stand
to hang around me that long. So why don’t we make a deal: you stop
with the insights and the advice, and I’ll do what I can to get you
out of this town in one piece.”
I was feeling queasy, nervy, and paranoid,
but I still had the guts to flash him a grin. “No deal. I hand out
insights and advice for a living. And though you aren’t going to
pay me, that isn’t going to stop me from telling you how to get
your life in order.”
His defenses dropped as concern flashed in
his eyes. “I don’t need your help.”
“You do. And I need yours. So why don’t you
help me pack my suitcase and take me to your friend’s house? I like
being honest, Denver, and though you admittedly irritate the hell
out of me, I want you by my side as I walk in my room in case a man
with a chainsaw is waiting in the wardrobe.”
Denver didn’t reply immediately. In fact, he
appeared to take a good long while to reassess me. I could see it
in his eyes; that mix of wariness, concern, and confusion revealed
that Denver Scott was starting to realize I had changed more than
he’d accounted for.
He gulped slightly. Then he readjusted his
jacket, pulling down hard on his sleeves as he shifted his neck
uneasily. “Chainsaw?” he managed.
“Gun, ax, spike – you pick your weapon of
choice. I think it’s important to know your limitations, and
Denver, I’d be as useless in a fight as a one-legged dog. You,” I
stood back and appraised him briefly, “look like you can handle
yourself.”
He coughed awkwardly.
“When it comes to hand-to-hand combat at
least,” I smiled around my words, my lips pulling up tight against
my teeth. I turned and gestured for him to follow me.
He paused.
It took a long time, but eventually he
added: “are you going to leave that statement just hanging there,
begging for a caveat? You think I can handle myself in a fight, but
not much else, right?” He strode up to me and matched my pace as we
walked, side-by-side, up to the porch.
I flicked my gaze over to him, blinking as I
did.
I didn’t say anything though.
He took one quick step ahead and then turned
to face me. Walking backwards confidently, he nodded low. “I can
handle a lot more than men with guns. I’m pretty good at handling
self-help authors who are trying to flirt with me as a distraction
from murder threats.”
Bam.
Denver was not a subtle man.
He took one more step backwards and reached
my door. He held my gaze as he held out his hand for the key.
I’d been unashamedly playing with him up to
that point, but now I ground my teeth as I reassessed the
situation.
He’d called my bluff; I was flirting with
him and quite probably as a distraction from the goddamn horrible
things that were going on around here.
“You know, I think pointing out my faults
makes you feel momentarily powerful in a situation that has robbed
you of any sense of certainty and security. I also think flirting
with me makes you feel more in control than you are.” He still had
his hand held out for my keys.
I slowly got them out of my bag. I didn’t
hand them over. Instead I stepped forward and grabbed the door
handle, opening it myself. Though I had to press my arm up hard
against his, I didn’t care, and he didn’t move.
Letting the door swing gently open, I looked
up at him. “You’re right and you’re wrong.”
“What am I wrong about?”
“I’m not flirting with you—” I began.
He snorted.
“Because I want to feel in control,” I
continued quickly.
Then I turned.
I didn’t add another word. I didn’t explain
myself, and I sure as hell didn’t give him a chance to see my
expression.
My cheeks were all hot, my jaw was
deliberately set hard, and if you’d had a stethoscope, you would
have
weekend, and I have a feeling you would take a lifetime.”
Though my statement had been sharp and
practically acerbic, he didn’t storm off in a huff. Instead, he
offered a punctuated laugh. “Somehow I don’t think you could stand
to hang around me that long. So why don’t we make a deal: you stop
with the insights and the advice, and I’ll do what I can to get you
out of this town in one piece.”
I was feeling queasy, nervy, and paranoid,
but I still had the guts to flash him a grin. “No deal. I hand out
insights and advice for a living. And though you aren’t going to
pay me, that isn’t going to stop me from telling you how to get
your life in order.”
His defenses dropped as concern flashed in
his eyes. “I don’t need your help.”
“You do. And I need yours. So why don’t you
help me pack my suitcase and take me to your friend’s house? I like
being honest, Denver, and though you admittedly irritate the hell
out of me, I want you by my side as I walk in my room in case a man
with a chainsaw is waiting in the wardrobe.”
Denver didn’t reply immediately. In fact, he
appeared to take a good long while to reassess me. I could see it
in his eyes; that mix of wariness, concern, and confusion revealed
that Denver Scott was starting to realize I had changed more than
he’d accounted for.
He gulped slightly. Then he readjusted his
jacket, pulling down hard on his sleeves as he shifted his neck
uneasily. “Chainsaw?” he managed.
“Gun, ax, spike – you pick your weapon of
choice. I think it’s important to know your limitations, and
Denver, I’d be as useless in a fight as a one-legged dog. You,” I
stood back and appraised him briefly, “look like you can handle
yourself.”
He coughed awkwardly.
“When it comes to hand-to-hand combat at
least,” I smiled around my words, my lips pulling up tight against
my teeth. I turned and gestured for him to follow me.
He paused.
It took a long time, but eventually he
added: “are you going to leave that statement just hanging there,
begging for a caveat? You think I can handle myself in a fight, but
not much else, right?” He strode up to me and matched my pace as we
walked, side-by-side, up to the porch.
I flicked my gaze over to him, blinking as I
did.
I didn’t say anything though.
He took one quick step ahead and then turned
to face me. Walking backwards confidently, he nodded low. “I can
handle a lot more than men with guns. I’m pretty good at handling
self-help authors who are trying to flirt with me as a distraction
from murder threats.”
Bam.
Denver was not a subtle man.
He took one more step backwards and reached
my door. He held my gaze as he held out his hand for the key.
I’d been unashamedly playing with him up to
that point, but now I ground my teeth as I reassessed the
situation.
He’d called my bluff; I was flirting with
him and quite probably as a distraction from the goddamn horrible
things that were going on around here.
“You know, I think pointing out my faults
makes you feel momentarily powerful in a situation that has robbed
you of any sense of certainty and security. I also think flirting
with me makes you feel more in control than you are.” He still had
his hand held out for my keys.
I slowly got them out of my bag. I didn’t
hand them over. Instead I stepped forward and grabbed the door
handle, opening it myself. Though I had to press my arm up hard
against his, I didn’t care, and he didn’t move.
Letting the door swing gently open, I looked
up at him. “You’re right and you’re wrong.”
“What am I wrong about?”
“I’m not flirting with you—” I began.
He snorted.
“Because I want to feel in control,” I
continued quickly.
Then I turned.
I didn’t add another word. I didn’t explain
myself, and I sure as hell didn’t give him a chance to see my
expression.
My cheeks were all hot, my jaw was
deliberately set hard, and if you’d had a stethoscope, you would
have
Similar Books
