Page 7 of How Dare You

Two guys from the crew working in the kitchen walk by, and Devon clenches her jaw, giving me a keep-your-mouth-shut glare.

“I’ll walk you out.” I hold the door open for her. She maintains her glare but nods and walks outside.

“You’ll have to leave room for expansion—” she starts.

“I was relieved to see you this morning.” I disregard her attempt at changing the subject by giving me basic advice about carpentry. “You worried me when you ran off last night and I didn’t have your number or any way to check on you.”

She furrows her brows, jutting her chin out accusingly before looking around the cul-de-sac, making sure no one else is around to hear. “I had to get home,” she says, far quieter than necessary.

“Bullshit,” I answer at a normal volume. “Tell me what I did.”

She sighs, like this is the most annoying conversation she’s ever been a part of. “It wasn’t about you.”

The urge to reach out and touch her, hold her hands in mine, force her to slow down and look at me is almost impossible to ignore. Where did she go last night? Physically or mentally. The woman I laughed with, listened to, got to kiss and hold is tucked away safely behind those navy eyes right now, and I’m dying to get her back out. “You were naked in my arms one moment and running scared the next. In what way is that not about me?”

“Keep your voice down,” she whispers as she stops in front of a gunmetal Lexus SUV. I step closer, backing her against her car door with my proximity. She tilts her chin up, finally looking me in the eyes.

“There, now only you can hear me,” I say quietly. “Tell me what happened.”

Most people look off to the side while they’re thinking of an answer. Not Devon, she stares at me for long moments, maybe trying to will me to back down. But I don’t. This intensity, her self-assured confidence is what attracted me to her in the first place, the way she put that washed up frat boy in his place. Try it, mama. Try to put me in my place.

“You’re a bad kisser,” she finally says, and the laugh that rises from my chest echoes throughout the cul-de-sac.

“Try again,” I say when I’ve regained my composure.

Her chest rises and falls on a frustrated breath. “I had a good time with you, but it wasn’t real. I needed to get back to reality.”

It’s not the whole truth. But it’s something. I shrug, “Next time we go out we’ll do something that suits your reality.”

“Being involved with you is what’s not realistic.” She doesn’t know me, but the last woman who did know me ended up saying the same thing. I try not to let it hurt. “You make me feel like—” She leaves me hanging, instead saying, “We are never going out again.” If she did know me, she’d realize what she just said only makes me want her more. I never back down from a challenge.

She’s not quick enough to hide her excited little gasp when I step closer, bringing our faces inches apart. “I wouldn’t be so sure, mama.” She wants me, and I will find out why she’s denying it.

“It’s up to me.” Her voice is steady. Face calm.

“It is up to you,” I agree. “And you won’t be able to stay away long.”

“I don’t date in our industry.” She stands up straighter. “Palm Springs is not a large market. We will be on projects together again. It’s inevitable.”

“You’re wrong.” Her face tightens at the words. She’s hiding the curious, flirtatious part of herself from me, but I doubt she realizes how easy it is to figure out the part she is willing to share. “You didn’t date in our industry until last night. Now you do.”

“I never agreed it was a date,” she argues, almost petulantly.

Lowering my voice, I ask, “Are you in the habit of getting naked with men you’re not even on dates with? You’re wilder than I thought.”

Her eyes widen and she looks toward the house.

“No one heard. I got you.” I whisper the same words that caused a hitch in her breath last night and get the same tempting reaction.

She shakes the moment off, her blonde hair settling around her shoulders. “You told me you were on vacation.”

Where did that come from? “I never said that.”

“Yes, you did. You said you were—” Her voice trails off when she realizes I’m right.

“I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be here as soon as you’re ready, Devon,” I say, taking a step back, so I’m no longer caging her in.

Devon takes a deep breath and shifts her leather planner from one hand to the other, reaching for her door handle. “Goodbye, Rhett.”

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