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“What? No!”
“Why are you here, then?” His eyes swept over me suspiciously.
“I couldn’t sleep.” I let out a huff, hugging myself. “You said if I can’t sleep, I could talk to you.”
He blinked, surprised but not completely thawed. “I take it Kieran was busy.”
“Kieran…” I trailed off, exhausted from pretending Row was just a friend. “Kieran is not in the race.”
His throat moved with a swallow. “Is that right?”
“Honest to God truth.” Then, because it was time to fess up, I added, “Look, I’m tired of running away from this.”
“From what?”
“From us.”
That seemed to smooth out his frown. He parked his elbows on the windowsill. “Allison ambushed me to turn on those stupid lights this afternoon. I told her to take a hike, but then she said it might be good to show people I still care about this town—”
I shook my head. “I should’ve cleared the air before I got mad.”
“No,” he insisted. “I should’ve…I don’t know. Called. Texted. Explained.” He worked his jaw back and forth. “As soon as I showed up, she dragged me there in a panic. I wasn’t doing her a favor, Dot. I was trying to show people in this town I’m not a villain because…” He sighed. “Because I know it is important to you.”
“Row,” I croaked, hanging my head down shamefully.
“I’m sorry you saw us together, but our entire conversation was her sucking up to me, and me telling her I’m fucking crazy about you and complaining you keep turning me down. I wasn’t above wounding her ego to make you happy.” Pause. “I’m not above doing anything if it makes you happy, if I’m honest.”
I nodded, wishing he were next to me. That I could touch him. “I’m sorry too.”
“What for?”
I shrugged. “Being so irresistible you had to punch Kieran in front of a full audience.”
He chuckled, shaking his head. “I’d have taken any excuse to punch Kieran.”
“You dislocated his nose, you know.” I toed the frosty ground with the tip of my shoe.
“Dylan brought me up to speed.” He kept his gaze locked on mine. “Anything else you want to tell me?” Row quirked an eyebrow, one hand propped against his window.
Yes. No. Just come downstairs so we can talk.
“Jeffrey Dahmer gave his neighbors meat sandwiches, which some believe contained his victim’s human flesh,” I blurted out.
Nice one, Cal. Super seductive.
Row’s lips twitched. “I know someone who ate their own knee cartilage. Said it tasted like pig.”
“Really?” I rubbed my palms together to gain heat. “I heard it tastes like chicken or tuna.”
Row shook his head seriously, and I suppressed a laugh. No one rivaled Row’s ability to handle my quirkiness. “Straight-up pork. She cooked it too. Minimal seasoning.”
“Huh,” I said.
He raised his eyebrows in question. “Anything else?”
“Nope.” I gulped. “Glad we straightened it all out.”
“Great. Thanks for that before-bed tidbit.”
