Page 51 of Puck You Very Much

She inhaled deeply. “You know I would never tell anyone, right?” she whispered. “No matter how angry I might be with you. I would keep it to myself. What you said at the bar… What you might say now.”

He stared at her as though looking right through her. A single drop of water ran from his hair down his cheek, like a tear that had lost its way. “I know,” he finally murmured. “It’s just not a…not an easy topic. My mother worked and worked, my father was waited on. And on top of that, he gambled away her money, so we had no choice but to cook cheaply because we couldn’t afford anything else.”

She swallowed as the warmth spread from her chest to her fingertips. It was simple compassion, she told herself. It wasn’t as though she were happy because he had confided in her – happy because, for some inexplicable reason, he was comfortable enough in her presence to tell her such things.

What the hell had happened over the last few weeks?

“Parents are never an easy topic,” she replied gently.

His gaze slid to the ring she was still twisting around her finger. “Are you talking about your mother?”

No, she was actually talking about her father. Her father, who had spent the last week in bed, missing an appointment with his psychologist, then had yelled at Maddie that she didn’t know what she was talking about when she asked about rescheduling.

“My mother died three years ago,” she stated, raising a shoulder. “It’s not a nice subject, but…I guess it’s not exactly the burden that you have, with your past.”

He nodded. “I’m sorry she died.”

“Likewise. But at least you have your sister, right?”

“Yep,” he said, frowning. “But you have a sister too, right? No. Two sisters. Maddie…and someone else.”

Surprised, she raised her eyebrows. “How do you know that?”

He lifted one corner of his mouth in what Lucy interpreted as a half-smile. “I know a lot about you, Lucy. After all, they say you should know your enemy better than your friend. So I know you drink coffee like water. I know you have more high heels in your closet than anything else. I know you were the best in your class and incredibly proud of it. I know you twist your ring when you’re nervous, jut out your chin to make yourself taller, believe taking a stroll is a workout, are always telling Matt I’m a terrible person, and you probably still have time to imagine me naked every hour or so.”

She bit her lip to keep from smiling. He’d just reeled off more about her than she’d expected he could—although really she imagined him naked every hour, not every other. “I never thought of myself as your enemy, you know?” she explained. “More like your conscience.”

“My conscience who breaks into my loft, convinces people I’m a sex addict, thinks it’s okay to hack my phone, and uses my friends to spy on me?” he summed up. “Man, no wonder I’m making so many negative headlines.”

She laughed, tilted her head back…and suddenly became aware of how close Dax was standing to her, how normal their conversation had been, how her neck tingled, and that he smelled of astringent soap and ice.

She cleared her throat and swiftly stepped back, interrupting the progression before this turned into a moment. “Okay, we should go. And you don’t have to dig out your key; I’ll lock up.”

He frowned. “Where did you get the key?”

She grinned. “Remember that time the bartender at the Ice Lounge took your car keys? Because you were too drunk? Guess which keys were on that keychain. Guess who picked them up and bribed the bartender not to sell the pictures of your exploits to the press.”

“And you copied the key?” he asked.

She shrugged. “I figured when one of your one-night stands leaves you bloodied on the floor, having a key to your place would be better than kicking down your door. Because let’s be honest, it’s not your door’s fault that you can’t keep your pants on.”

He snorted loudly. “You meanifa woman ever attacks me, notwhen.”

“Oh no,” she said matter-of-factly, “I’m convinced you’ll die at the hands of someone else. If not one of your lady friends then definitely me.”

He laughed a loud, hoarse laugh and headed for the door ahead of her, shaking his head. “It was wrong, to have a copy made, Lucy” he stated, but he didn’t sound angry.

She sighed. “Yes, I know. But in my defense, at the time I was furious with you, and I had this idea that I would let myself in some night, move your furniture around, and convince you that you had a ghost. But I came to my senses after my first coffee the next morning.”

He cast a skeptical glance over his shoulder at her. “I would have to disagree. You certainly havenotcome to your senses.”

Chapter 16

Dax’s head felt like someone had stuffed it with an old, whiskey-soaked jacket, complete with pins—now needling his brainpan.

He should have said no to the vodka. He should have known Lucy would find a way to get him to the photo shoot. And for all of those reasons, he should be down in the dumps. But there he was, nonetheless—and even smiling about it. The smile was persistent and highly unsettling. He was rather certain Lucy was to blame. He should be angry at her for breaking into his loft and waking him up so rudely. That was definitely going too far!

So why wasn’t he ticked off that she was the first thing he’d seen when he woke up? That she’d snooped around his apartment and asked him personal questions?

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