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Whoops. Gross.
“You know you’re not going to get away with saying nothing is wrong.”
“Nightmare,” she whispered.
“Aww, baby.” He gathered her close or he tried to. She pushed him back.
Ed gave her a confused look. “What’s wrong?” Then alarm filled his face. “You’re not scared of me, are you?”
“No,” she scoffed. “I don’t think all men are going to hurt me just because . . .”
“Because what?” he asked dangerously.
Shoot. How did that just come out? She was normally far more guarded with her words.
“Because a man hurt you in the past? That’s what the nightmares are about?”
She nodded miserably. “Yes. But can we not talk about it right now? I just want to forget.”
“Did you ever talk to anyone about it?” he asked her.
“A James doesn’t need to seek out help or talk about their issues, they are strong enough to deal with them by themselves.”
“What the fuck? Who says that bullshit?”
“My mother.”
“Shit,” he muttered. “What did I say before about being strong?”
“That I don’t have to be strong all the time and asking for help takes a lot of courage.” She understood what he was saying. But it wasn’t the way she was raised. What if she leaned on him and then she couldn’t be on her own again?
“You can talk to me about anything. I mean it. If you want to have a conversation about what feminine hygiene products are best or about some weird bowel movements or which type of dish detergent you prefer, then I’m here for you. Whatever you need.”
“Bowel movements? Really?” She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t think we need to ruin the romance before it even begins.”
Interest filled his gaze. “You want romance.”
“Well, I, umm, I just meant . . . “
“You want romance,” he said confidently. “You liked my flowers. That’s it. That’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to woo you.”
“Woo me? What are you? Eighty?” she tried to scoff. But honestly, her stomach was alight with butterflies.
“Well, what else would you call it when I win you over with my romantic gestures?”
He didn’t have to win her over. She was well and truly there. She was in deep, and falling further every moment she was with him.
“You don’t have to do any of that. I already like you.”
Really? How old are you? Sixteen?
“Maybe I want to romance you. Maybe I think you deserve sweetness.”
“You do sweetness?” she asked skeptically.
“Hey, I can be sweet,” he protested. “Now, tell me why you pushed me away just now.”
Drat. There went her hope he might leave it alone. “Oh, umm, I stink.”
