Page 50 of The Daredevil

“Yeah, fine. Just busy.”

“Busy being annoyed?” She sipped from the white mug.

I glanced up. “Just busy.”

She arched an elegant eyebrow. “Okay. I don’t want to interrupt you. Let me go wash up and I’ll get my things and work at my—”

“No,” I said too quickly. The shock of her leaving snapped me out of whatever mood I was in. “You’re not interrupting me.” Not in the way she assumed. I couldn’t explain what I was feeling without telling her about my past. There was nothing beautiful to share.

“You’re obviously occupied and annoyed. I don’t want to disturb—”

“You’re not,” I sighed. “I had a bad dream, and it annoyed me.” For fuck’s sake, I sounded like a toddler who needed comfort.

“Really? Is that the whole truth or part of the truth?” She peered at me over the rim of her coffee cup.

“What do you think?”

“Part of the truth. But I won’t press you into telling me anything. It’s not my business.” She sipped her coffee again and purred, “This coffee is superb. We don’t need to go to the café at all.”

Seeing her satisfied face changed my attitude. I wanted to see her smile more.

“You can have all the coffee you want.”

“We all have bad dreams. That’s what they are, though—justdreams.”She stared into the coffee, tracing her finger around the rim of the coffee cup. “Sometimes you get remnants of the past. Sometimes they’re distorted versions of a traumatic event that still haunts you.”

What was her trauma? But how could I ask her when I didn’t want to talk about mine? So I left it alone.

It surprised me how she changed my mood so quickly. When she said she wanted to go, my body and brain reacted, worked together, and told me to stop her. Her words yanked the annoyance out of me like a splinter that had been pulled out and was no longer irritating me.

This was also the first time I’d want a woman sitting at my kitchen table early in the morning having coffee with me. Michelle had given me many firsts today, and I had a feeling I’d be experiencing a lot more of them soon. Her presence filled my home with a softness I wanted to keep around. She was like a comfy Icelandic sweater that kept me warm in the winter.

Michelle belonged in my home, in the chair across from me, drinking my coffee and soothing me with her presence. Why had I let a bad dream ruin this precious moment?

“If you tell me about your monster, I’ll tell you about mine.”

The words flew out of my mouth without my permission. I wanted to grab them back, but failed.Holy fuck!

She looked at me for a long moment, and the silence in the room swirled into something else—something neither of us wanted to comment on. What had I been thinking?

Michelle made me comfortable enough towantto share this private part of me with her. Or maybe it was something else . . .

The need to protect her is stronger than the need to keep the secret.

Inhaling a slow breath, I pondered on the revelation. I wanted to know her monster so I could keep her safe. I’d never felt protective of a woman other than my mom and aunt. Even then, the need differed.

Something about Michelle transformed me.

Her eyes glinted with amusement. “Thanks. I’ve always wanted a Viking to slay my monster.”

“I’ve always wanted an angel to show me the way.”

She laughed, and the echoes of her voice resonated through my home and settled. “I’m not sure I know the way. I’m a lost angel. I might lead you straight to hell.”

“I have a private stairwell and a special key for that place. No need to worry. I reserved my place there a long time ago. Me and the devil? We’re like this.” I crossed my fingers to demonstrate my closeness with the Lord of Hell.

“Then you tell him to stop the nightmares. Easy peasy.”

I liked her lighthearted perspective. It made the darkness seem unimportant.

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