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I hum “Pity. I’ve already got a ticket.”
“A miscalculation on my part.”
“I like when you miscalculate things.”
She takes a deep breath, goes back to fiddling with her dress strap. “Is that a pitiful attempt at flirting?”
“Yes.”
“You’re terrible at it when you’re trying.”
I lift a shoulder. “At least you could identify my efforts.”
“This is a bad idea, for both of us. You’re going to get hurt.”
“I’ll take my chances.”
“I’m not joking. I will hurt you. I already have. And it will happen again.”
Chuckling, I lift my hand, pinkie extended. “Promise?”
Her attention lowers, but she doesn’t move.
“Fifty percent of my gripping strength, right here,” I murmur. “Up for grabs.”
Eyes rolling, she latches her finger around mine. “Why are you like this?”
“Like what?” Pulling her hand toward me, I kiss her little scar.
Chapter 32
~~~~~~~~~~~~
No chance, no way, I won’t say it, no, no.
Briar
Sunlight beats down on my head, the weight both physical and overbearing. I swear at nothing, turn on my heel, and pace another length from the pavilion to the field and back again. Logic dictates that I could be doing all my pacing beneath the roof of the pavilion.
But logic currently seems to be in short supply, and I will not be the only one with a green lawn during a drought.
I laugh into my phone speaker. “You’re insane.”
“Am I?” Chip’s voice hums through the line. “You’ve just spent the last hour telling me that it feels like you’re drowning because you don’t want to hurt a guy’s feelings. Seems kind of out of character for you.”
“He’s a good guy.”
“A rare breed, I’ll admit, but on some level I think you know that good guys can get over rejection. You’re the only thing standing in your own way when it comes to really ending things.”
My nerves prickle, and my body—sticky with sweat since I’ve been outside Rowan’s mansion pacing in the backyard for over an hour—goes numb. “That doesn’t mean anything.”
“Means you’re in love with him.”
I scoff, scoffily, and twist on my heel again. “Absolutely I am not.”
Unexpectedly, Lace intercepts Chip’s phone—but of course they’re together, why am I even surprised they co-oped this one-man job? “I kinda have to agree with Chip here, Bossette. Sounds like you’re in love with him.”
“I am not in love with him!” Even to my own ears, my voice is sharp, so I calm myself down, take a breath, seek out the gracious shade of the stupid pavilion. “I am a professional, people. I take sad little men apart and make them work for me.” I comb my fingers through my hair, wonder why they’re shaking. “He’s just sweet, and kind, and gentle—”
