Page 24 of Puck & Make Up

My mouth drops open, and I sputter for a few long moments. “Um, is this a problem?”

Her cheeks turn red, and she groans. “Oh my God,” she mutters, dropping her face into her hands. “I didnotfucking admit that.”

“Sugar—”

“No,” she snaps, head shooting up, eyes narrowed into a glare. “Don’t.”

I lean over, ignoring when she tenses further, when she starts to shift away from me. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” I rasp, cupping her face in both of my hands. “I’ve dreamed about you every fucking night from the first time I saw you at Monroe’s.”

She shakes her head. “That’s not.No.” She pulls back, and this time, I let her go because…

Of course I do.

I have to.

But I don’t give up. “Is that so hard to believe?”

“Yes.”

“Dessie, baby, you have to know how gorgeous you are.”

She snorts, but before I can push that, she says, “So, you’re what”—her lips press flat—“just a little boy pulling on my braid because youlikeme?”

“Yes.” I lift a shoulder, drop it carelessly. “And if I had a frog, I’d put it in your desk.”

She scowls.

“It’s the same principle as you always making sure my beer is more foam than alcohol when I come into Monroe’s and you’re on shift.”

Her eyes slide away, but I don’t miss the flush spreading out over her cheeks. “I?—”

Moving close, I cup her jaw again. “I don’t mind that. Fuck, you could never serve me a beer again and it would be fine. It…it only really hurts when you ignore me.”

“Dammit,” she whispers, her shoulders slumping. “This isn’t a good idea.”

“Finally putting our cards on the table?”

“Yes, it’s a fucking terrible decision.”

“I—” Then I blink, the rest of my words stoppered up in the back of my throat as she stands and takes a couple of quick steps away from the table.

“Sugar?”

“No.”

“Dessie—”

“I’m broken,” she says, turning away from me, her black ponytail swinging behind her. “It’s inevitable that this will all just blow up in my face and then where will I go? I don’t have firefighting anymore. If don’t have Monroe’s or River’s Bend or Rosie or Bailey?—”

“Why would you lose your friends or River’s Bend, sugar?” I ask gently, moving toward her.

Those shoulders hitch up again and I expect her to ignore me, to lie, to come up with some bullshit excuse to put me off.

But…

She doesn’t.

Instead she turns to me and whispers, “Because that’s what always happens. With men. With people I think are my friends. With my job. With?—”

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