Page 38 of Never Say Yes To A Stranger

I did just tell her I’m not boyfriend material, but she was pretty insistent that we finish what we started, one way or another, and now she’s just going to bed?

This is reverse psychology at its finest. She’s baiting me and playing games. She’s trying to get me so physically worked up that I cave.

But I caved in the barn and told her about me just like that. She doesn’t need games.

I don’t think she’s playing them either. She’s not that kind of person.

“Ignacia?” I call out.

“Do you want a hand job after all, Beau?”

“No.” I grind my teeth. Her washing machine downstairs is probably a sexier prospect at the moment than I am. It also has more emotional intelligence.

“What makes you think I can’t handle myself? Because I got played once? I’ve definitely learned from that. I didn’t just put the moves on you because I’m in the market for a boyfriend or that I need a man to take care of me, or even that I need someone to stand at my side and take care of me. I do thank you for chasing Aiden off, and yes, I have been terrified of him finding me. What I should have gotten was a good dog. The kind that loves me but has a thing against douchebags.”

“I’m not a dog?” I really don’t know what to say right now. I have nothing surly left to hand out, and really, that’s all I ever toss around. It now strikes me what a feral asshole I’ve become.

Actually, I know I’m one but I didn’t realizethe extentto which I have become one.

“You’re certainly not a dog. You’re not cute like one, you’re not furry or cuddly, you don’t wag your tail when you’re excited, and you’re not offering any love. Even the most feral animalcan likely be tamed with a gentle hand and some patience. But people aren’t like that. We’re not all feral, we’re not all gentle, and we’re certainly not capable of unconditional love, nor should we be. That kind of blindness only ever gets you in trouble. Love just straight-up sucks for people at this intelligence level. Love shouldn’t be one person getting hurt, but often, that’s how it ends up. Sometimes, it’s both people, but usually, it’s one more than the other. Love isn’t equal. You never get what you give. I tend to give all of me, and it’s something I need to learn not to do. It’s a note for the future, but I don’t think I’ll ever need it. Certainly not with you. This wasn’t about dating or candlelight or cuddles. I know you’re basically the human equivalent of the love child of a cactus, a pincushion, a venomous spider, and one of those crazy sawing tools with the reciprocating blade that no one has a hope in all hell of controlling.”

After saying all that, she sighs. I hate that sigh. She’s not wrong about any of it, and for the first time in my life, I want to do better. I want to be better. I don’t want to be hard and unreachable. I don’t want to beuntouchable.

“I know I started this, but I thought it could mean something. I hoped it would. Even if it’s not a relationship because neither of us is relationship material, and we’re not ready for that level of commitment with everything going on in our lives. Anyway, don’t worry. You never made me think it could mean anything. It was just me being hopeful,” she continues.

“Ignacia—”

“No, Beau, it’s okay.” She won’t turn and face me, and I have zero right to ask her to. I don’t deserve her trust. I don’t deserve her looking me in the eyes. “It’s really okay. It’s been a night. We should both get some sleep.”

“Ignacia,” I call out again.

“Yes, Beau?” The blankets rustle, and my heart leaps and gallops. But she doesn’t turn. Dejected, it plummets back down to the pit of my stomach and refuses to beat normally.

Great. I’m going to go completely silent now? I had no idea what I was going to say or what would be appropriate for this situation because I’d never been in one like this. There’s never been a time when I so badly crossed every line. Client. Job. Contract. All just about obliterated. So what if we didn’t do the deed? What we did was enough to break down barriers and cross lines inside me and my mental space. I don’t know what to do with that, so what the hell should I say?

That, for a few seconds, I actually felt less lonely, and it wasn’t as horrible as I thought it would be? I’m still a liar, and there’s nothing I can say that would make it better.

Except the truth, but then she’d hate me.

Fucked if I do, fucked if I don’t.

But not in this bed.

Not physically.

Unless it’s the kind of physical pain that comes with the emotions we don’t want to feel and can’t help feeling anyway. Anger. Loneliness. Abandonment. Fear. Grief. Pain. Pain. Pain.

“If you’d like there to be a dick o’clock in the future, just let it mean something,” she whispers. The words are not just huffs under her breath. Rather, it’s a nice whisper.

“Did you just saydicko’clock?”

The blanket rustles again, and she sinks deeper into the pillows and pulls the quilt up a little bit higher. I’m just here, frozen, because I’m darned well flabbergasted. I have never been so thoroughlytold.

“Goodnight, Beau.”

Chapter eleven

Ignacia

---