feel?”
I paused, and then admitted, “Enraged. Hence my petulant fifteen year old hissy fit.”
He nodded once.
“But it’s not a big deal,” I added, more to myself. “I mean…so what? Guys do it all the time and women are completely fine with it. I’m fine. I mean, I will be, you know? So…whatever.”
I forced my mouth shut before I really sounded like I was trying too hard to convince him it wasn’t a big deal and delved back into my phone. He strode away, and I already felt stupid for rambling. Clearly this was bothering me because I was due for my period. Shit. When was the last freaking time I even had my period? Two weeks ago. My mind consoled me. Thank goodness. I needed to update my birth control shot in the coming months.
A few minutes later, I heard him approach again. I peered up in time to watch him place a cold beer in front of me. “That’ll make you feel better,” he muttered before taking a seat next to me, his back against the bar.
He got me a drink? Now my jaw really did drop. Progress. That was the one word that came to mind for our hate-filled relationship. We’d just made progress. I stared at the beer in disbelief for a few moments, and then said, “While I appreciate the gesture, I don’t drink, Hawke.”
“Shut up,” he countered. “Everybody drinks. Pick it up and smash it.”
“But –”
“When was the last time you had an icy cold beer like that?”
“Years,” I answered vaguely.
“You an alcoholic?”
“No.”
“Then drink.” When I didn’t budge, he leaned over and brought the bottle closer to me. “There is a time and place for a good drink, Emma. Look at the condensation on that bottle. Tell that baby no. No, actually, tell that anger boiling inside of you that you won’t try and make it go away with some amber liquid.”
I did look at it, and it did look particularly good.
“I can’t drink,” I argued. “I’ve got dinner with my grandmother tonight. With Borden. Do you know what a train wreck that will be?”
“Even more reason to relax.”
I shot him a look. “You’re very bad influence and I wish we were ignoring each other again.”
His lips spread into a smile. It wasn’t smug or filled with cool hate like I was used to. It was a genuine smile directed at me. It looked good on him. He was an attractive guy, and he’d probably be killer without that goddamn Chewbacca beard. I felt like I’d entered the twilight zone. I needed to savour this moment of peace. I was hours away from an impending disaster with my grandmother. Borden was currently in a situation that had me reeling with jealousy.
And Hawke just fucking smiled at me.
“You know what,” I said boldly, grabbing it like I was grabbing life by the balls. “I’ll have it. Where’s yours?”
Relaxing his shoulders, he chuckled. “Can’t drink on the job.”
“I want to drink on the job,” Graeme cut in desperately, looking over at us. “Grab me a beer too. This is going to be a long afternoon.”
“Yes!” I bellowed. “Come on, Hawke. You heard him.”
Hawke’s face twisted into uncertainty. He looked back at me, this strange mischief and thoughtfulness skirting his features. It was a strange look on him. I liked that look on him.
“Fine,” he muttered, caving in to my reverse peer-pressure.
I smiled. It was official. He’d built a bridge of acceptance and let little Emma Warne cross it. The white flag soared.
Seven
Borden
Borden rubbed at his temples, his patience dwindling. Hector was being a dick. He’d come over without a call (a real fucking inconvenience, never mind a disrespect), strutting into the office with a bunch of long legged airheads with their chests painfully pushed out, and claimed he made progress on their case. Instead of being forthcoming with that information, the man-princess wanted a private area to
I paused, and then admitted, “Enraged. Hence my petulant fifteen year old hissy fit.”
He nodded once.
“But it’s not a big deal,” I added, more to myself. “I mean…so what? Guys do it all the time and women are completely fine with it. I’m fine. I mean, I will be, you know? So…whatever.”
I forced my mouth shut before I really sounded like I was trying too hard to convince him it wasn’t a big deal and delved back into my phone. He strode away, and I already felt stupid for rambling. Clearly this was bothering me because I was due for my period. Shit. When was the last freaking time I even had my period? Two weeks ago. My mind consoled me. Thank goodness. I needed to update my birth control shot in the coming months.
A few minutes later, I heard him approach again. I peered up in time to watch him place a cold beer in front of me. “That’ll make you feel better,” he muttered before taking a seat next to me, his back against the bar.
He got me a drink? Now my jaw really did drop. Progress. That was the one word that came to mind for our hate-filled relationship. We’d just made progress. I stared at the beer in disbelief for a few moments, and then said, “While I appreciate the gesture, I don’t drink, Hawke.”
“Shut up,” he countered. “Everybody drinks. Pick it up and smash it.”
“But –”
“When was the last time you had an icy cold beer like that?”
“Years,” I answered vaguely.
“You an alcoholic?”
“No.”
“Then drink.” When I didn’t budge, he leaned over and brought the bottle closer to me. “There is a time and place for a good drink, Emma. Look at the condensation on that bottle. Tell that baby no. No, actually, tell that anger boiling inside of you that you won’t try and make it go away with some amber liquid.”
I did look at it, and it did look particularly good.
“I can’t drink,” I argued. “I’ve got dinner with my grandmother tonight. With Borden. Do you know what a train wreck that will be?”
“Even more reason to relax.”
I shot him a look. “You’re very bad influence and I wish we were ignoring each other again.”
His lips spread into a smile. It wasn’t smug or filled with cool hate like I was used to. It was a genuine smile directed at me. It looked good on him. He was an attractive guy, and he’d probably be killer without that goddamn Chewbacca beard. I felt like I’d entered the twilight zone. I needed to savour this moment of peace. I was hours away from an impending disaster with my grandmother. Borden was currently in a situation that had me reeling with jealousy.
And Hawke just fucking smiled at me.
“You know what,” I said boldly, grabbing it like I was grabbing life by the balls. “I’ll have it. Where’s yours?”
Relaxing his shoulders, he chuckled. “Can’t drink on the job.”
“I want to drink on the job,” Graeme cut in desperately, looking over at us. “Grab me a beer too. This is going to be a long afternoon.”
“Yes!” I bellowed. “Come on, Hawke. You heard him.”
Hawke’s face twisted into uncertainty. He looked back at me, this strange mischief and thoughtfulness skirting his features. It was a strange look on him. I liked that look on him.
“Fine,” he muttered, caving in to my reverse peer-pressure.
I smiled. It was official. He’d built a bridge of acceptance and let little Emma Warne cross it. The white flag soared.
Seven
Borden
Borden rubbed at his temples, his patience dwindling. Hector was being a dick. He’d come over without a call (a real fucking inconvenience, never mind a disrespect), strutting into the office with a bunch of long legged airheads with their chests painfully pushed out, and claimed he made progress on their case. Instead of being forthcoming with that information, the man-princess wanted a private area to
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