Page 10 of Falling for Fury

She gives me a concerned side eye as I continue. “What has you so tightly wound that my presence irks you? Is it my charming smile? Maybe it’s my fantastic jaw line?” My tone is mocking, going for playful, but it gets me nowhere. “I can usually collect a smile within the first few minutes. Your ability to hold out on me is only making me want one more.” I settle into my chair, one arm casually draped over the back, twisting in her direction and resting an ankle on my knee. It is an attempt to get her to lower her walls. Which, of course, is not working. I swallow as she slowly turns her head in my direction, reminding me of a slow-motion scene in a movie when the hero says something to the villain right before the villain unleashes a brutal attack. Her green eyes lock on mine and the angry scowl she delivers has an impact I believe is the opposite of what she is trying to accomplish.

There she is.

I casually readjust my pants as she speaks. “What makes you think you’re entitled to my life story? Please, do enlighten me. What have I done to make you think that I will open up to a complete stranger about my woes?” She throws in some patronization in the end there, and her ability to stoke the fire and meet me within the blaze just turns me the fuck on. I have to hold myself back from asking, where have you been all my life? Before I can attempt a response, she continues.

“You men can’t seem to take a hint. I. Am. Not. Interested.” She turns back to her computer. Of course, it just makes me want her more, but I can’t blame a woman for being crystal clear. Her response is warranted given my persistence, and I can respect a no. I focus back on my computer when she releases another sigh. “I… I’m sorry for snapping.”

“You didn’t snap. Don’t apologize.” I wave my hand at her, she had every right to put me back in my place, semi-in-my-pants or no. She says nothing, and I allow my gaze to fall back in her direction, admiring her profile. Despite her fury, she is effortlessly stunning. Her tight yoga pants and sweater that looks two sizes too big, her hair back in a loose bun, the fly-aways that hang by her face tease me, tempting me to tug them or tuck them behind her petite ears. She slowly hangs her head back, eyes vacant, looking to the ceiling. “I was fired on Friday. I am super stressed about assignments that are due after the break, and I think I might have to find a cheaper apartment, and I am currently… stuck in a spiral of sorts,” she says on one breath. She closes her eyes, and a look of pain enters her expression, then those furious eyes finally land on me, her expression reluctantly vulnerable.

“Huh.”

“Huh? That is your response? What... what does that even mean?!” Her expression is adorably furious.

“Your strength. I just, I guess I didn’t expect that.” Because I didn’t. She is dealing with all of that and can still enter a verbal sparring match. Doesn’t take a genius to work out there are some obvious issues; if her fury wasn’t a dead giveaway, apologizing for setting boundaries certainly is. Yeah, she has strength. I’d put a solid bet on her wrath powering it. And just like that, I am even more drawn to this woman.

“Oh.” She stares at me like I sprung a second head. A smile, or rather a brief smirk, spreads on her face for a second, like a knee jerk reaction to a compliment she has no idea how to handle.

“I don’t think that’s stren—”

“It is. Clear as day, no point apologizing for it. People should be admiring you for it.” And an idea springs to mind.

“Hey, actually, I have a friend who owns a bar. I was speaking to him a few nights ago, and he is desperate for good bar staff. I could give you his details to reach out for a job?” Her eyes narrow in apprehension.

“What do you get out of doing that?” she accuses. I release a laugh and shake my head at her unflinching ability to assume the worst in everyone. Or at least me.

“Look, I am not here to get anything. It was just a friend offering another friend an option.” Is ‘friend’ presumptuous? She doesn’t say anything about my strange wording.

I dig into my laptop back for Lucas’s business card—he saw I had one, he wanted one—it’s a whole thing I won’t get into. “Here, take this.” I place the business card on the table between us. “Call him, don’t call him. It is up to you.” I can feel her eyes staring into the side of my face as I pretend to do work instead of trying to read her from my peripheral. After a few attempts on her part to ignore me and the business card, she grunts and slaps her hand on the table, taking the card.

“Thanks,” she basically whispers. “You didn’t have to do that… I… appreciate it.”

Is that gratitude from the strawberry devil herself?

I turn my head to look at her, unable to hide my look of triumph. She scoffs and rolls her eyes, and I swear that is a smile she bites down to hide.

“You know… if you ever want to… talk… about the other stuff… I am happy to listen?” What words are these? I am not sure why I offered. I guess I recognize the look on her face and know the demons she probably fights to ignore.

She looks at me, her expression softer, contemplating how much of herself she is going to reveal to me. Before she looks back at her screen.

“Thanks. But I am fine.” And I don’t believe her for a second.

We settle into a comfortable silence for a good hour, and I actually manage to get a lot of work done. When she stands to leave, I realize I don’t want to her to go, immediately shoving down the stomach drop and the sense of urgency that rushes through me I blurt, “Would you like to get some coffee?” She stops and stares at me, then looks around the shop.

“Did you not just have a coffee?” she asks, as though I didn’t just ask her out. I huff a nervous laugh and correct myself, standing to face her… tower over her.

“I mean, another time?” I give her my flirtiest smile and tell myself it’s because of the dry spell and has nothing to do with just enjoying her company.

She makes to look me up and down, and I don’t miss the slight blush that hits her cheeks and the swallow stuck in her throat.

“Umm… why?”

“Do I need a reason?”

“Uhhh… yes?” I blow out a breath. At an utter loss for words, my usual game is out the window, and I decide on exposed honesty.

“Because since Saturday, my brain has short circuited. I think about that smirk you gave me at the Play House that lit up your face, and my skin has been buzzing relentlessly with energy I haven’t been able to expel.” Might as well keep going. “Because I’d like to keep you talking, so I have a chance to see that smirk, to learn more about you and where all that resilient strength came from.” My voice lowering as I walk closer to where she stands, so she has to tilt her head to look up at me. Her eyes widen and her blush is now unmistakable. She blinks and shakes her head and chokes on… something.

“Umm, that… okay… what?”

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