Page 31 of The Arrogant's Redemption

"But it wouldn’t be with me. You said I caught your attention. Doesn’t seem like that happens very often."

"It doesn’t."

"So what do you have to lose?"

"Nothing."

"Then what’s the problem?"

"Aren’t you cautious about me?"

"I am. But cautious is my default setting."

"Then why invite me if you feel that way?"

"If I tell you the truth, you’ll laugh."

"I rarely laugh or smile," he says, and I’m pretty sure he’s not joking. "And if I do, it’s never on purpose."

"Fine. The reason I invited you is because I feel like I already know you. I don’t trust easily or let people get close. Until you came into the restaurant today, I thought my interest in you came from a conversation I had with my mom the other day, when she told me to take more chances."

"But you don’t think that anymore?" he asks, genuinely curious.

"No. If this were just about taking chances and living more, I’d go out with one of the guys who come into the restaurant and ask me to parties every weekend."

"What do you want, then, Alexis?"

"To spend a little more time with you. And I can’t explain why yet, because I don’t even understand it myself. I know you said you don’t do friendship, and I get that, but I think, whether we like it or not, it’s already begun."

"We can’t get involved, sweetheart. Like I told you before, I’d end up hurting you, even if I didn’t mean to."

"I believe you. And I don’t want that," I lie, somewhat, because right now I’m caught in a whirlwind of emotion, "but I’ve never felt this way before."

"Felt how?"

"Like I’m coming home . . . even though it’s a home I didn’t know existed."

Lazarus

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

She hasa strange effect on me, but instead of making me want to pull back, it increases my desire to unravel her.

There are so many red flags when it comes to Alexis that I could write an encyclopedia of all the reasons why I should say goodnight and head back to Morrison’s house. After all, I only have two more days in Cape Cod. Soon, I’ll have to return to the real world—and in my real world, the women I’m interested in are not sixteen years younger than me, don’t skip makeup, and definitely don’t consider getting an ice cream cone the height of adventure.

“Tell me about your rescue from the orphanage,” I say as we head toward the ice cream shop.

The streets are still packed with tourists who seem to smile and laugh for no reason, which irritates me slightly.

“I don’t usually talk about the past.”

“And from what I gather, you also don’t usually invite strangers to share an ice cream with you, yet here we are.”

“Hey, I never said anything about sharing. I’m getting a double—just for me.”

“Fair enough. I can understand and even appreciate selfishness. Now, don’t stall. If I’m going to be part of a celebration, I should at least know what we’re celebrating.”

She goes quiet for about two minutes, and I don’t push her to talk. I wait—something new for me, since patience isn’t exactly my strong suit.

---