Page 64 of Crazy Little Thing Called Love

“Except for the start-up cash for your restaurant, right? We have a deal after all.”

Something in him snapped. “I can get the money another way.”

Her finger stopped twirling, eyes coming up to meet his, wide and uncertain. “What?”

Tired of playing this game, he gazed directly into the beautiful green depths of her eyes. “This stopped being about our deal a long time ago.”

She shrank back, visibly swallowing. “What do you mean?”

She knew exactly what he meant. Yes, they’d had a deal, but it stopped being pretend the moment she let him inside her body. He knew her. Cassie didn’t do casual sex. To be with someone, she had to care about him, ergo she must have some kind of feelings for him. He knew it, and so did she.

“I care about you, Cassie.” He reached forward, gently grasping her hand, preventing her from retreating further. Physically, anyway. “And you care about me, too.”

“Of course, I do. You’re my friend, Del. We’ve known each other for years.”

“Yeah, we have.” He moved closer, refusing to let her brush this off, brush him off. “And that’s why I know you’d never sleep with me unless you cared as more than a friend. You wouldn’t jeopardize what we have, what you have with my sister, unless I matter to you.”

Her face softened, free hand coming up to rest on his cheek. He turned his face in, soaking up her affection.

“You do matter to me,” she said.

“And you matter to me.” He could leave it there, but something in him wouldn’t let it be. He wanted to tell her. He needed to tell her. Gathering up all the courage he had, he took a deep breath. “Cassie, I love—”

“No!” She shifted the hand on his cheek, covering his mouth as an expression of pure terror crossed her face. “Don’t say it.”

Perfect, just the reaction a guy wanted to get while declaring his love. Swallowing down the pain and humiliation, he removed her hand from his mouth. She quickly pulled away and tucked both her hands into her lap.

“Why not?” he asked.

“Because you don’t mean it.”

He quirked a brow. “I don’t?”

“No.”

Her succinct answer pissed him off. “I wasn’t aware you were the expert on my feelings. Do you also know what I’m going to want for dinner tonight? Because I’m feeling hungry for pizza, but maybe what I really want is a burger instead.”

Her gaze narrowed, mouth tightening. “You see? This is what I mean. You can’t love me. You don’t even know what that means. You’re too young—”

“I’m twenty-nine. You’re a whopping two years older than me.” Her argument was absurd.

“I may be only a few years older, but at least I act like an adult.”

Felling attacked—because that’s exactly what she was doing—he gritted his teeth, trying to calm the rising temper within. “And what the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Her eyes widened, probably realizing how angry he was. Good, she needed to know he wasn’t some little boy she could talk down to. He was a grown-ass man and a fully participating member of this relationship. And they did have a relationship, no matter what bullshit she was trying to spout.

“It means you’re immature.” She took a deep breath, face hardening as she went on the offensive. “You hide behind this party-guy persona because you’re too afraid to let your family see who you really are.”

“I’m trying to show them,” he argued. “That’s what this whole restaurant thing is about.” Didn’t she see that?

“No, if you wanted this you’d tell them about finishing school. You’d show them how responsible you are and that you can handle the gravity of what you’re about to take on. How are they ever going to have faith in you if you keep up this party-boy attitude and don’t own up to your accomplishments? What are you afraid of Del?”

A sharp bolt of pain arched through him. What the hell nonsense was she spouting? Was she claiming he had a fear of success or some shit? That didn’t even make sense. Of course he wanted to succeed. He’d never live up to his father or brothers, but he could try to be the men they were, the kind of man he looked up to his whole life. He wasn’t afraid. She didn’t know what the hell she was talking about.

“Love is about honesty. How could you think you love me when you can’t even be honest with your own family?”

Pissed, hurting, and confused as hell, he glared. “You’re one to talk about love. You don’t love people, Cassie. You love things.”

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