Page 46 of Talk Wicked to Me

“What do you mean?”

She met his curious gaze. “I’ve never been able to connect with anyone other than Gwen on more than a surface level. It’s weird how alike we are.” As she said it, she remembered something her therapist had said years ago. That many people who suffered traumatic losses lived with the expectation that everyone they cared for might find a tragic end, but if that were to come true, he’d thought it would be even more tragic if the person who had suffered the initial loss hadn’t enjoyed them while they’d had the chance. At the time, she couldn’t imagine ever wanting to be closer to anyone, and she hadn’t taken it to heart. But it had lived in her head, like a tree that had always been there for her to hide beneath, giving her shade and shadows to blend in with. Baz was thinning those branches, letting sunshine into her hiding spot.

“That would make sense with all you’ve been through, but you and I have connected on more than a surface level.” He held her gaze, blue eyes boring into her like he could see right through to her soul.

She’d been telling herself their connection was only in her head, but there was no denying it anymore. It was buzzing between them like power lines, and she liked it. She liked him. He made it easy to be herself and to feel safe, but it wasn’t like it could lead anywhere.

Maybe that was why it was so easy to be with him.

What if he didn’t feel that same buzzing, and he just meant that they were talking about real things, not nonsense? He’d joked about kissing her, but it had been a joke, right? Oh boy. Now she was overthinking, getting nervous. She needed to circumvent this conversation. She needed to get him out of there before things got awkward and she started spouting more crap about herself she didn’t realize she was hiding.

“There I go again, airing my dirty laundry,” she said as lightly as she could, trying to play it off like she wasn’t twisted up inside. “I thought we were talking about you. How do you always turn the conversation around and get me talking?”

“It’s the dimples.” He smiled. “They work like truth serum.”

“Then how do I ward them off? Garlic around my neck? A silver cross?”

He chuckled. “I like garlic, and I kind of dig silver. But you can try cookies.”

“Nice try. Cookies make you smile more, not less.”

“How else can we test the full powers of my dimples?”

She felt heat creeping up her chest. “I was going to say your dimples should come with a warning label, but I think your mouth needs one, too.”

“You have no idea how wicked my mouth can be,” he said low and seductively.

“Ohmygod.” A breathy laugh tumbled out, but her mind was off and running, spinning naughty tales about that wicked mouth. “Are you always like this?”

“Like what?” he asked far too seriously.

“Flirty. Able to put people in a better mood one tease at a time.”

“That wasn’t a tease. My mouth can be wicked.” He waggled his brows playfully.

“Would you stop?” She threw a pillow at him.

He caught it, grinning as he set it down on the bed. “Would you rather I was a stick-in-the-mud?”

“No. Maybe.”

“What does that mean?” he asked with a laugh.

“It means I’m a hormonal mess, and you need to go home.”

He splayed his hands. “Why am I being punished?”

“You’re not. Those dimples are punishing me, and I’m too tired to make good decisions. I can’t trust what’s going to come out of my mouth.” She climbed off the bed and headed out of the bedroom.

He followed her to the front door. “You had a rough day, and you were pretty upset earlier. I don’t like the idea of leaving you alone. Why don’t I crash on your couch in case you need help with Brennan later?”

There was nothing playful in his tone, and though she appreciated his concern, she’d get no sleep at all knowing he was just a few steps away. “That’s not a good idea.”

“I promise to lock down my dimples.”

She gave him a yeah, right look. “That’s impossible, and I’m feeling much better, thanks to you. I appreciate all of your help with Brennan, but I need to start doing this alone. Thank you for talking me off the ledge and letting me rest and for not running for the hills when I needed a friend.”

“I’m not a run-for-the-hills kind of guy. You’re stuck with me, Lockhart. If you need anything tonight, call me. I don’t care what time it is. If you have another bad dream or need help with Brennan. I’m five minutes away.”