Page 33 of Line of Resistance

Nate’s eyes snapped her way. “What’s weird?”

She shrugged, her aggravation with him climbing to an all-time high. “I thought you were a grown-ass man who understood adults can have relationships that don’t work out. Shit doesn’t always have to be a mess when it ends.”

Nate watched her for a minute, his eyes narrowing. Eloise held her breath, thinking maybe she’d pushed this too far. Shoved Nate to the point she’d pushed so many other people and given him an actual reason to not want to be around her again.

But then he slowly moved closer, leaning in until his lips were less than an inch away from her ear. Near enough she could feel the warmth of his breath skate across her skin as he spoke. “I can assure you I am a grown-ass man, Eloise.”

Her stomach bottomed out, dropping straight down as far as it could go, and it must have taken the majority of her sense with it. Because she used her next, hard-won breath to utter the words, “Could have fooled me.”

She shouldn’t let him do this. Shouldn’t let Nate drag her back to the past.

She wasn’t this girl anymore.

Her whole life she’d only known one person, one man, who appreciated her the way she was. Enjoyed her snarky attitude and quick comebacks. Everyone else? They just thought she was a bitch.

And maybe she was. Maybe her personal sense of humor leaned a little too far to the sarcastic side. It certainly hadn’t endeared her to anyone as a kid.

Or in college.

Or as a young adult.

That’s why she trashed it when the one person who appreciated it died, leaving her alone in almost every sense of the word.

But for some reason, Nate’s presence made it all but impossible to be fake. To dish out the quirky happiness everyone else seemed to love so much.

And, like always, Nate seemed completely unbothered by her jab. His laugh filled the confined space they were forced to share and he wiped at the corner of one eye as a tear of amusement leaked free. “Fair enough.” His gaze slid to where she sat, assessing in a way that made her want to shift in her seat. “But it seems like I’m not the only one who’s been pretending to be something I’m not.”

Eloise yanked her eyes from his. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Right.” Nate drew the word out slowly as he moved around beside her, his large frame creeping a little closer. “You can keep pretending. That’s fine.” His voice lowered. “But I see you, Eloise.”

Why did that make her thighs clench together? Was it the thought of him watching her? Seeing her in a way very few other people had?

Or was it the suggestion in his tone? The slightly seductive edge it carried.

Hell. It was probably both.

But she would never admit it. Not to this man who’d led her on so many times before. “I guess that makes two of us then.” She crossed her arms in an attempt to hold everything together. To bind the pieces she’d so carefully assembled thinking they would form a more pleasing whole.

Nate moved again and this time his leg touched hers, the long length of it warm and solid where it rested against her outer thigh. “Tell me something.”

She waited, thinking he was going to ask a question, but none came. “About what?”

“About you.” His voice lowered to that sexy, seductive tone again. “The real you.”

It was a little annoying how smug he sounded about this discovery he believed he’d made. She should slap on a smile and the mask she wore to dish out a little of the fakeness she was so skilled at serving. Prove him wrong. Refuse to provide what he obviously expected.

But sitting in her car for three hours left her feeling less than motivated. Unable to be perky and optimistic. “I’d rather not.”

Nate leaned closer, as if the possibility of learning more about her genuinely intrigued him. “And why is that?”

There were plenty of answers to that question.

Because she didn’t trust him. Because she didn’t like admitting she had to be fake in order to actually have friends. Because it was depressing to realize the only person who ever genuinely liked, let alone loved, her was no longer around so it didn’t matter how she acted.

But none of those were the answer she offered. The answer she gave him was even more personal. “Because you wouldn’t like the real me.”

It was a hard pill to swallow. One she’d tried to choke down on more than a few occasions.

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