“I was bracing myself for a classic Darcy zinger. Teasing him is my Olympic sport, and I can only compete once every four years. “Oh, I’m your boss now?” Just as a dopamine surge fills me and I think of so many sleazy, funny responses that I could go with, the image of Megan’s face makes me bite my lip shut. “Take it from me, it’s weird not being on a payroll.” I nudge his shoulder with mine, resisting the urge to rest against him. I look at his brute frame in my peripheral vision, and maybe I can. Make the place beautiful and get me out of here.” He took the crew? I cannot imagine him making that kind of power move. If you guys have changed your mind about renovating, I’m kinda screwed,” he says, barely joking. “Aldo wanted to bump your house for a bigger, easier job. I frown, sit up, and force myself back into a geometric shape. I’m not a particularly petite woman, but he makes me feel like I’m soft. My shoulder? It’s an upturned mug sitting beside a basketball. My hand is positively Chihuahua-sized next to his Valeska paw. I lean back too, just to feel how our bodies compare. You guys don’t take advantage of me.” He’s braced back now with his palms flat on the porch, endless legs splayed out. “Do I need to go and make him apologize to you?” Yeah, I’d say it went badly.” I feel myself inflating with overprotectiveness. “He’s going to have to do some actual work himself. It’s not his fault he was born with your favorite kind of bones. Human faces aren’t really my bread and butter these days.” I link my fingers together and try to dredge up some self-control. I’m a prime candidate to be taking pictures of him in a suit at the altar. He has to be dragged into the Christmas picture, posed behind Megan with an unconvincing smile that looks more like concern. “No,” he replies, soft and patient, like he has every time before. One second is all it takes to get my heartbeat flipping like a fish in a net.
Now, when those eyes cut to mine and there’s a spark of light in them, and another thought about me in his head. Now, as he looks at my legs and his lashes create a dark crescent shadow. This night isn’t all bad.Īs his eye fixes onto my boot, the streetlight creates a black blade under his cheekbone. Tom knows I’m lying, and when he begins to argue, I stuff a marshmallow in his mouth, too. I put a marshmallow in my mouth so I can’t talk anymore. It was Vince, coming around here like a tomcat. Tom begins to stand, and the car accelerates and squeals off.
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