Page 73 of Reading Between the Lines
Diem teetered, one foot in the room, one foot out like he was unsure if he should take his chances or run for his life.
“Guns, you are quite literally the only man I know who will run away from the suggestion of sex.”
“I’m not…” He scowled and entered the room, slamming the door. “It’s a fucking cookie. Why do you do that every time?”
“I can’t help it if peanut butter is orgasmic.”
He continued scowling as he opened his Dr Pepper and drank.
“You snuck away,” I said, eating more cookie.
“I… It’s after six. I figured if we wanted to get out the door before seven, you would need a hit of caffeine… and I know you like cookies… peanut butter cookies. They had just come out of the oven when I got there. The girl wasn’t going to sell it to me yet because it was so hot, but…”
“But you got growly, and she caved?”
“Yes.”
I hit him with all the sultry mischief I could manage. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you. A whole night of snuggles followed by a good morning coffee and a fresh-from-the-oven cookie. I’m warning you. I’m having an emotion, and deep down, behind the steel cage where you’ve locked your heart, I think you’re having feelings too. Gooey feelings. Lovey feelings. Tell you what. If you show me yours, I’ll show you mine.”
The bear awoke. “Shut up and drink the fucking coffee. I don’t have fucking feelings, and if I’m in this building when the clocks go off, I will not be held responsible for my actions.”
I ate my cookie and drank my coffee in silence but took great joy in the flush that bloomed in Diem’s cheeks every time he caught me watching him. No feelings, my ass. The brooding man was overcome with feelings, and with a little more pacing and processing, he might be able to express them someday.
I would wait.
***
At three minutes to seven, Diem and I raced down the front stairs of Ivory Lace. My insistence on showering after Diem hadput us behind. If the grump had let me shower with him, we could have been out the door by now. I’d barely had time to dress before Diem shoved me from the room and told me to move my ass.
Before we could escape the building, Ivory herself called after us from the reception desk. “Oh, boys. There you are. Will you be joining us for the breakfast feast today? We haven’t seen you. There’s apple cinnamon French toast on the menu this morning. I make my own whipped cream topping. It’s to die for.”
Diem’s chest rumbled with an imminent growl, and I waved the elderly woman off. “Not today, you sweet, precious thing. It sounds delicious, but we’ve gotta run.”
“Now hold on. I can pack breakfast to-go bags if you’d like. You can’t race off on an empty stomach. Now, let’s see. Maybe some hard-boiled eggs, fresh cheese, grapes, and strawberries. Oh, I have these delicious whole-grain crackers I could use instead of toast. Toast would get stale. You can choose between cottage cheese cups or yogurt cups. Heck, have both if you’d like. I suppose there’s no reason I can’t include some sausage links. They’re portable. Might not stay warm. Give me a minute, and I’ll set you up.”
“No thank you, ma’am. We’re in a hurry.”
“Nonsense, I’ll just—”
Diem dragged me outside, shouting, “Listen, lady, your chipper attitude is effectively affecting my quality of life in a negative manner, and therefore, I need you to stop hassling us.”
The heavy wooden door slammed as the clamor of seven o’clock shook the building.
“That woman’s on fucking crack,” Diem said, hightailing it to the Jeep. “Jesus fuck.”
“D—”
“The town should file a fucking complaint. Listen to that shit. And we’re outside.” He wrenched the passenger door open. “No wonder her husband looks like a goddamn zombie.”
“D—”
“Fucking breakfast to-go. What the fuck was that nonsense?”
“D!”
“What?”
“I just want to say that you’ve really taken to the whole ‘telling people to fuck off without telling them to fuck off’ thing. It’s admirable. Not only are you using your words to communicate, but you’re doing it in a creatively sly manner. We should call Dr. Peterson. This is an overcome obstacle. He would want to know.”
