Page 36 of Blame it on the Bet
“What? I don’t see what business that is of yours…”
He quirks an amused eyebrow.
“Please, just humor me, will you?”
“Fine,” I mutter with some irritation. “I had my share of dates in high school.”
“Okay, so how often did you go to a movie on one of those dates?”
I shrug.
“I don’t know. Maybe once a month. Less often in winter,” I admit.
“Mmm-hmm,” he says, as if I’ve just answered my own question. “You see? It’s a hike, under the best of circumstances. And, let’s face it, in this part of the country, the ‘best of circumstances’ rarely occur six months out of the year.”
He removes his hand from my shoulder, and I immediately miss its comforting weight. Am I so lonely that I’m desperate for a man’s touch? Any man’s touch? No. No, no, no. Opposition. He’s the prosecutor. I’m the defense. He’s going to try and get me off balance, and I can’t let that happen. I take a deep breath, close my eyes, and turn away from the board.
“You still haven’t answered my question,” I remind him as I take a seat in front of his desk. “What are you doing here…in this office?”
“What did you think I was going to do when I told you I was sticking around? Did you imagine I was going to sit in the parlor at the Lady Sleep Number Bed Inn and count the passing moments?”
“Okay, so, again, it’s the Pink Lady Slipper Inn. And I honestly didn’t give it a thought.”
True enough.
Bryan Truitt’s dark eyebrows go up, and I’m struck by the rich chocolate brown of his eyes. They’re so much more dynamic than your garden-variety dark eyes. They crinkle in the corners a little now as he gives me a polite smile.
“Well, I have a thriving business that goes well beyond this particular project, so I needed a place where I could spread out and work while I’m waiting for you to lose our bet.”
Suddenly my hands are itching to slap the smile off his face. His very handsome, slightly stubbly face.
Son of a…!
I hate it when I’m up against an attractive opponent.
Juries love them, and they’re so much harder to beat.
“I know you think you know me,” I say coolly, “but you don’t. You have absolutely no clue what I’m capable of, and you’re making a big mistake if you underestimate me.”
“Oh, that’s one thing I’d never do. You’ve already surprised and impressed me more than I can say.”
I don’t know what to do with that. Was it a compliment? Is he trying to butter me up? Maybe get me to let my guard down so he can swoop in? He continues before I can speculate further.
“Look, you think I don’t understand how much that place means to you. I do. But, barring a miracle, we’re beyond the point of you reclaiming the pub and living happily ever after.
I’m just trying to help you make the best of a bad situation.” “But why?” I didn’t mean to ask the question, but the two words fly from my mouth before I can stop them. Well, they’re out there now. Not much I can do about it except see what his answer is.
Bryan stares at me for a long moment, and something in his face changes. The snarky, smirky, teasing obnoxiousness is gone, replaced by something I don’t recognize. Something softer.
Bryan Truitt leans across his desk toward me.
“To be honest with you, I don’t really know. And that scares the hell out of me.”
Holy. Crap.
“I—uh…I think I’d better get going,” I say awkwardly, getting to my feet and hurrying out of the office and past a puzzled King Colby before anyone has time to say another word.
Including me.
