Page 31 of Thoroughly Innocent Intent

“Well, no. You’re not really his type.”

“You know his type so well?” I clench my fists in my lap.

“Yes, actually. They’re splashed all over the tabloids. You’re pretty, especially when you smile, but you’re not flashy or provocative or…twenty-two.” She throws her arms up. “And let’s not forget he isn’t your type, either. You’ve never liked big, imposing guys. Why are you so upset that I didn’t expect him to actually charm you?”

“This is the man you described as a manwhore, one who is such a natural flirt he’d seduce anyone with a vagina, but you didn’t think he’d bother with me?” I cross my arms and glare at her from across the table.

“Okay, when you put it that way, it sounds shitty.” She squirms, something I’ve never seen her do. My natural instinct is to feel bad about making her uncomfortable, though I can’t quite bring myself to. Not yet.

“I never meant to be offensive. I only wanted to help you get out of your shell. It seemed like a notorious flirt would be easy to talk to, and then maybe you’d feel more comfortable opening up with other people, too. I shouldn’t have pushed you to do that with a guy like Colt.”

“Because he couldn’t possibly be interested in me.” I stare her down.

“Because he’s a lion and you’re a lamb.” Her voice is oddly high pitched. “ Obviously, he figured out how to connect with you, and for you that means something, but for him it’s just a game. A challenge, to see if he can win over a woman who isn’t a sure thing.”

“You don’t know that.”

“And you do?”She tries to mother me. “You’ve never had a relationship, much less a fling. Do you know the difference, because there’s no question he does. I just don’t want to see you hurt. I never would’ve suggested you practice flirting with him if I thought you might actually develop feelings.”

“There you go again, assuming the only one who would develop feelings is me.” I look out the window to avoid looking at her.

“Are you saying he has feelings? Is that what he told you?” Her tone is soft now. Placating. She thinks I need to be coddled. That I’m too naïve to see the truth.

“Is that so hard to believe? That he might like mebecauseI’m not flashy or provocative?” I don’t need Delaney’s approval to know how Colt feels about me, but maybe I want it. Maybe I want her to admit he could like me more than as a conquest.

“History suggests that isn’t what Colt likes.” She shakes her head sadly, pitying me for what she thinks I can’t see.

“History also suggests those weren’t the right women for him,” I retort, regretting that she can’t see me as clearly as Colt does.

“Sam, don’t do this,” she pleads. “You’re so good, so trusting. I don’t want you to fall for a well-practiced line. I don’t want you to get your hopes up.”

“You’d rather I believe someone like Colt couldn’t possibly be interested in me?” I blink to hold back the tears I feel building behind my eyes.

I’m vaguely aware that I’m being irrational, that evenIdoubted Colt’s interest in me at first, so Delaney’s reaction isn’t out of line. But it hurts. It hurts more than I thought it would to find out she assumes he can’t have feelings for me. That I’m too naïve, destined to get my heart broken.

“I just don’t want to see you hurt.” Based on the unshed tears in her eyes, I know she’s telling the truth.

“I know that.” I close my eyes and take a deep breath to keep the tears at bay. “But Colt’s not hurting me. You are.”

“Me?” she gasps. “I would never…”

“Not intentionally, no.” I interrupt. “Yet you assume I’m nothing more than a game to him. You can’t fathom that what he’s said to me is genuine.”

“What has he said to you, then? What could he say to make you so convinced that you’re different from all the other women he’s been with? That’s what he’s made you believe, right? How?” Her words are aggressive, though her tone is pleading, and I can tell she’s torn between wanting to protect me and wanting to support me.

This is where I stumble, because convincing her that Colt’s feelings are real means sharing a part of him, of us, that I wanted to keep for myself, at least a little longer.

Despite the pain her words have caused, I know Delaney genuinely doesn’t mean to hurt me, and shutting her out now might widen the rift growing between us, a rift I don’t want.

At the same time, she needs to know her words hurt, not because they’re insensitive, because they’re wrong. Spoken from an outsider, who doesn’t know the truth of what’s transpired between me and Colt. And even though what’s transpired is still new, still fragile, that doesn’t make it any less real.

“He hasn’t made me believe I’m different from the others. He doesn’t have to. We both know I am. And we both know he’s not exactly my type, either. Instead of making judgements about each other based on what other people say or what defined us in the past, we’re just taking each other at face value.”

Delaney nods absently, her lips slightly pursed, and I know she’s looking for the words to question my explanation without hurting my feelings further. “How do you know you’re getting him at face value? That he isn’t just saying what you want to hear?”

I think back to what Colt said about his dating patterns, his plea not to make assumptions about him, even his willingness to admit his faults as a husband and a father. Only a man who’s honest with himself would acknowledge his mistakes, and if he’s the type of person who can be honest with himself, I believe he’s being honest with me.

“If he were a dishonest man, I’d question whether he’s feeding me a line, but I don’t think Colt is a dishonest man.” I lean forward and rest my arms on the table, deliberately closing the distance between us.

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