Only now did she realize it made no difference which side of Logan Blackstone she was seeing, they all confused her on some level, made her feel things she couldn’t identify, classify, sort, and file away.
“And here I thought you admired my end.”
Her smile played a tug-of-war with her frown, edging out a victory at the last possible second.
“Among other things,” he added.
She rolled her eyes, relying on sarcasm to create at least a thin shield. “Whatever makes you feel better.” She handed him the kit. “Here, clean yourself up at the sink and I’ll get what’s left of the table scraped into a pile.”
Surprising her, he took the kit without comment or complaint. He was at the sink, rinsing his wrists when he spoke again. “Do you always do that?”
“What, clean up my messes?”
“Cut and run when you get the least bit confused by something you don’t immediately understand.”
She stilled for a telling moment, then went back to picking up the splintered shafts of wood. He didn’t miss anything. She remained silent, knowing anything she said would only prove his point.
“That surprises me,” he went on. “You don’t strike me as a coward.”
He’d pushed the wrong button. “A coward?” she said, her tone both incredulous and defensive.
She didn’t strike
any
one as a coward. That was a promise she’d made to herself the day her husband and father had died. Not before or since had one person ever looked beyond her competent, confident, no-bull exterior and questioned what lay beneath it. No one ever questioned what made her who she was. She’d taken the job with Del to insure no one ever would. She’d been very successful. So successful, she’d almost forgotten what lay beneath herself. Until now. Until Logan.
“Prudent, strategic, well thought out,” she countered, working a bit too hard to keep her jaw relaxed. “That’s how my actions are usually described.” She held his steady regard without blinking, purposely meeting the challenge head-on. No one would ever suspect she questioned the outcome. “Along with fearless, commanding, and successful.”
He was drying his hands and wrists carefully, but he held her gaze with total concentration. He stared at her just long enough to make her wonder exactly how far under the surface he could see.
Then he blinked and the intensity vanished. He lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. “Whatever makes you feel better.” He turned back to the counter and laid the hand towel out to dry.
Scottie remained frozen in place. It was as if he’d flipped a light switch off. One second the entire room crackled with awareness and he looked at her in a way that made it seem as if he could decipher her genetic code if he chose to. An instant later he was casually tossing her words back in her face, then turning away as if he were unaware he’d been plucking out pieces of her soul in the process.
She didn’t buy it. “Now who’s cutting losses and choosing not to understand?”
Let’s see how
you
like being analyzed
. “You don’t strike me as a coward either.”
“We’re all afraid, Scottie. Even you. Some of us just do a better job of confronting and managing the fear.” He leaned back against the counter and crossed his arms and his ankles.
He’d surprised her yet again. His tone had been neither casual nor patronizing. It had been … inviting.
“So you’re saying I have poor management?”
He pushed away from the counter and walked slowly toward her. “No. I’m saying that it’s not just about getting the job done. It’s not just about bulling forward no matter what. Sure that makes you look bold and daring.” He stopped right in front of her. “But it doesn’t mean you’re not a coward.”
From her position she had to look up in order to maintain eye contact. The supplicant pose was not lost on her.
“You can’t just
manage
what scares you,” he said. “That’s just finding a way to shelve it so you can
“And here I thought you admired my end.”
Her smile played a tug-of-war with her frown, edging out a victory at the last possible second.
“Among other things,” he added.
She rolled her eyes, relying on sarcasm to create at least a thin shield. “Whatever makes you feel better.” She handed him the kit. “Here, clean yourself up at the sink and I’ll get what’s left of the table scraped into a pile.”
Surprising her, he took the kit without comment or complaint. He was at the sink, rinsing his wrists when he spoke again. “Do you always do that?”
“What, clean up my messes?”
“Cut and run when you get the least bit confused by something you don’t immediately understand.”
She stilled for a telling moment, then went back to picking up the splintered shafts of wood. He didn’t miss anything. She remained silent, knowing anything she said would only prove his point.
“That surprises me,” he went on. “You don’t strike me as a coward.”
He’d pushed the wrong button. “A coward?” she said, her tone both incredulous and defensive.
She didn’t strike
any
one as a coward. That was a promise she’d made to herself the day her husband and father had died. Not before or since had one person ever looked beyond her competent, confident, no-bull exterior and questioned what lay beneath it. No one ever questioned what made her who she was. She’d taken the job with Del to insure no one ever would. She’d been very successful. So successful, she’d almost forgotten what lay beneath herself. Until now. Until Logan.
“Prudent, strategic, well thought out,” she countered, working a bit too hard to keep her jaw relaxed. “That’s how my actions are usually described.” She held his steady regard without blinking, purposely meeting the challenge head-on. No one would ever suspect she questioned the outcome. “Along with fearless, commanding, and successful.”
He was drying his hands and wrists carefully, but he held her gaze with total concentration. He stared at her just long enough to make her wonder exactly how far under the surface he could see.
Then he blinked and the intensity vanished. He lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. “Whatever makes you feel better.” He turned back to the counter and laid the hand towel out to dry.
Scottie remained frozen in place. It was as if he’d flipped a light switch off. One second the entire room crackled with awareness and he looked at her in a way that made it seem as if he could decipher her genetic code if he chose to. An instant later he was casually tossing her words back in her face, then turning away as if he were unaware he’d been plucking out pieces of her soul in the process.
She didn’t buy it. “Now who’s cutting losses and choosing not to understand?”
Let’s see how
you
like being analyzed
. “You don’t strike me as a coward either.”
“We’re all afraid, Scottie. Even you. Some of us just do a better job of confronting and managing the fear.” He leaned back against the counter and crossed his arms and his ankles.
He’d surprised her yet again. His tone had been neither casual nor patronizing. It had been … inviting.
“So you’re saying I have poor management?”
He pushed away from the counter and walked slowly toward her. “No. I’m saying that it’s not just about getting the job done. It’s not just about bulling forward no matter what. Sure that makes you look bold and daring.” He stopped right in front of her. “But it doesn’t mean you’re not a coward.”
From her position she had to look up in order to maintain eye contact. The supplicant pose was not lost on her.
“You can’t just
manage
what scares you,” he said. “That’s just finding a way to shelve it so you can
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