Page 50 of The Bossy One

“It’s fine,” I said. “I’m bloodyfine. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay,” Olivia said. “We don’t have to talk about it. Is there something I can do to distract you instead?”

My mind flew to all sorts of dirty, delicious things Olivia could do to distract me.

I cleared my throat and looked away. “That’s kind of you, but it’s not your job to manage my emotions.”

Olivia rolled her eyes. “I’m trying to do something nice for you, you idiot, because you were nice to me when I needed it. Why are you making it so hard?”

Because I’m not used to having someone who wants to make me feel better. Because you’re unpardonably lovely. Because I want to be at my best around you.The reasons immediately ran through my mind. I couldn’t say any of them out loud.

“I suppose I am,” I admitted grudgingly.

That earned a smile from Olivia. “Let’s make this simple. Want to watch a sappy movie with me and make fun of it?”

“You strike me as the type of woman who likes sappy movies.”

“I do, but we’re cheering you up, not me. And I know how much you like mocking sincere emotion.” She waved a hand at my face. “Especially when you’re all grumbly like that.”

I conceded her point.

“So,” Olivia said, leaning forward with an air of contagious mischief, “what’s the sappiest, corniest, most ridiculous movie you know?”

I thought about it.

And then I grinned.

Ten minutes later we were downstairs in front of the telly, watchingThe Deer and the Warrior.

Olivia frowned in concentration as she watched a man with flowing locks and an equally flowing medieval-style shirt stride down the stairs of a Victorian mansion covered in deeply old-fashioned woven tapestries. “What time period is this supposed to be in?”

“They were all set to film in a local castle, until the roof caved in and brained the original lead,” I explained. “After that, they prioritized functioning roofs over period accuracy.”

Oliva gaped at me. “You’re making that up.”

I grinned. Olivia had probably grown up on Hollywood movies that more or less made sense. She wasn’t prepared for the glorious camp classic she was about to witness.

Olivia fell silent as she watched. “I don’t get how this is a romance. He’s just going deer hunting.”

Onscreen, Fionn drew the string of his bow back, ready to slay the skittish doe onscreen, when his second-in-command stopped him and explained that obviously the doe was really a woman under a curse.

“Wait…That’sour heroine?” Olivia asked, outraged. “She’s not even human!”

“It’s a classic for a reason. Heroines are better when they can’t talk back to you,” I said.

Olivia hit me on the head with a pillow. I laughed, catching her wrists before she could strike again. Olivia’s eyes sparked and she bit back a smile as she tried to free herself from my grip so she could take another swing. The effort made her face flush, and I found my eyes dropping down to her mouth, to the way her breasts heaved under her tank top with her panting breaths.

I had the sudden urge to press her back into the pillows and kiss her like I’d been wanting to, for longer than I wanted to admit.

Olivia’s lips parted.

She’s probably about to ask what the hell you’re thinking,my rational self-reminded me.

I released her abruptly and focused on the movie.

At least I tried to focus on the movie. But at the same time, I was aware of every movement Olivia made. Every time she laughed or gasped or tucked her hair behind her ears. When she repositioned herself and ended up scooting closer to me on the couch, I caught a whiff of that lavender scent she always smelled like.

Was it soap? Perfume?

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