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There’s something almost fragile about her now. Like this experience simultaneously fired her up and knocked the wind from her lungs.
When I follow a minute later, I find her waiting in the hall, slack against the wall like this leggy sagging doll.
“Miss Winkley? Are you okay?”
“Not at all.” She lets out a pained laugh. “God, you just don’t get it, do you? I’mpissedbecause you gave me something you know I can’t refuse.”
For the first time since she barged into my house, I’m shaken.
I’m not used to second-guessing.
Would it have killed me to think before I charged into her store and roped granny into helping me toy with her granddaughter’s emotions?
Would I have died if I thought this through first, rather than flailing around to put out this fire I caused like the clumsiest asshole ever born?
A low, rough growl slips out of me as I lean my back into the wall next to her.
Then a tiny seed of hope blooms in my chest. Maybe the whole reason she came here wasn’t to curse me out after all and remind me what pond scum I am.
She can’t be considering joining me in this insanity… Can she?
“I’m not done looking through your closets for skeletons, mister,” she whispers, suddenly turning to face me. A lock of that brilliant red hair falls from her messy bun and she tucks it behind her ear.
Damn.
If I hadn’t already emotionally traumatized this woman, I might double down on stupid.
I might just grab her face with both hands, press her into the wall, and drink my fill of Juniper Winkley until I’ve stolen every last breath from her lungs.
“…and if you give meanyreason to walk away now—even one—I promise you I will.” She’s still talking and I’ve been tuned out.
And I still have that check in my hand, but the blood roaring in my ears feels like too much to think about that right now.
This is it.
She’s ready to cave and take a baby leap of faith. And all it took was some hideous emotional blackmail and a payday promise with a lot of zeros.
Shit.
Somehow, I don’t think I’m buying her cooperation. I’m securing my own seat in the darkest part of hell that has no view—the next worse thing after blowing a multimillion-dollar deal for my entire family.
I stalk back to the kitchen and slap the check down on the kitchen island, half expecting her to follow me and snatch it again.
When I look up, she’s watching me as I rip it to shreds, then quickly scrawl out a new one.
“Rory? What are you doing?” She eyes it but doesn’t move. Her nose wrinkles and she glances at my clothes once again. “Rory!” she calls again.
I say nothing.
“Dude, you stink,” she says dispassionately. “If you want to talk business, go change. I can wait while you shower.”
That does it.
I flash her my dirtiest look.
Goddamn, this woman will be the death of me.
“I wasn’t expecting visitors who make me feel like shit,” I remind her, trying not to snap her head off. If there’s even the smallest chance she’ll go along with this, I can’t afford to alienate her. Not again.
