Page 22 of Beautiful Beast

God, this man isenraging.

I’m starting to hate him so much that I actually really like him.

“Do you even have any friends?” I’m frowning and smoke is probably coming out of my ears, the cartoon picture of exasperation.

I’m not exactly Miss Popularity myself, but that’s by choice. I have Ariel, plenty of acquaintances to hang out with if the mood strikes, and colleagues who respect me. My life is plenty full, and the book world fills in any gaps.

If anyone respects Adam, it’s out of fear.

“The better question is, do I want any new ones?” he challenges.

“Well, you’re doing a bang-up job of ensuring no one wants to be!”

“And yet, here you are,” he reminds me.

Point.

But at least he isn’t hiding behind the door yet.

Progress.

Deciding to change tactics, I say, “Buster and I brought you dinner. But there’s a catch this time if you want the goods.”

He raises an eyebrow in silent question, and I don’t miss the slow appraisal as his gaze moves up and down my body, sending tingly, lightning bolts of heat into my limbs. Something tells me he isn’t admiring my grandmother’s casserole dish.

“You invite us in to eat with you,” I finish.

“Not a chance.”

The rejection is out of his mouth so fast that I’m not even sure he heard my request. He just knows that he would refuse anything I ask him to do, so was getting ahead of himself.

An overachiever.

But there’s something about his reluctant belligerence that’s oddly appealing. Breaking down his defenses is a battle that I want to win, and I’m pulling out all the stops.

In the kitchen at least.

I’ve never cooked for a man in my life, and now Adam has me going out of my way to get his attention and earn his approval. I can’t explain it, but there’s something about him that compels me to be around him on a deeper level.

He needs a new friend even more than I do, and even though I’m sure he’d deny it, he must also be curious about me to keep entertaining my plans to bring him out of his shell.

The universe put me in his path for a reason, and maybe I’m exactly what he needs at this point in his life. It’s just a matter of convincing him.

If I showed up wearing a trench coat with nothing underneath, I bet he’d be more inclined to let me into the walls of his palace.

And now that I’ve confirmed the reality of his body matches his pictures – minus whatever he’s hiding under that stupid bandana – it might not be such a bad idea to create an emergency contingency plan.

It’s been a long time since I’ve let a man touch me, and I bet you this one knows exactly what he’s doing.

Not that Adam is showing any kind of interest in breaking my dry spell.

“Don’t you have any hobbies?” he asks. “You literally don’t have anything better to do right now? Bugging me isn’t proving to be very productive for you, so perhaps you should work on getting out more.”

“I have lots of hobbies.”

“Like what? Taking selfies and making TikTok videos?”

“Better than…” I pause because I don’t even know what old people do. Not that he’s old – exactly. But if he wants to play the age card, I will, too.

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