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Stupid whiteboard . . . where had it gone?
Maybe she should talk to him. If he was willing to work on himself, then she should do the same.
She opened her mouth. But all that came out was a pained groan.
His eyes flared. “That wasn’t meant to scare you. We can be friends. Just friends.”
But she didn’t want to be friends. She wanted to be his. Irritated with herself, she smacked her hands against her thighs.
“What? Hell, no.” He grabbed her hands, stilling them. “No.”
That last ‘no’ was firm. And it made her pay attention. This was the Brick she knew. Not this more unsure side. She let out a breath, feeling more settled
Was it a good thing he could settle her so quickly?
She drew her hand free, searching around for her whiteboard and finding it under the blanket.
“This is unprofessional of me. Your brother won’t be pleased.”
Oh no. Reuben would lose his mind. She grimaced.
“Yeah, he didn’t strike me as the easy-going type.”
Brick ran soothing circles with his thumb around the palm of her free hand.
“We don’t need to talk about this now. I’d never expect more than you can give. You hold the reins.”
Frustration filled her. She knew he meant well. She didn’t want to immediately jump into something she wasn’t prepared for. But at the same time, she kind of needed for him to lead. Because she had no clue what she was doing.
“Mind if I sit beside you? Or would you rather I sit down there?” He nodded to the other end of the couch.
See. This is what she was talking about. Before today, he wouldn’t have hesitated to sit next to her. Or tell her what to do. Get bossy or grumpy.
And she liked that.
It sounded insane. But when he was grouchy and demanding, then he wasn’t treating her as though she was breakable. The way most people did.
Would a relationship change how you act towards me?
“Well, yeah, I guess.” He gave her a puzzled look.
Like you’ve been acting since you told me about your ex and apologized for being a jackass.
“I don’t think the word I’d use is jackass,” he grumbled. “And yeah, I’d treat you like you’re precious. It’s what you deserve.”
I don’t need to be treated like I’m defective.
He scowled at that. “Defective? Who the fuck said you were defective!”
Ahh, there he was. Relief filled her. And she found herself smiling.
“You think it’s funny, calling yourself defective? Now, you listen to me, baby girl . . .” she saw the moment he realized who he was talking to and he reined himself in.
Frustration filled her. She started writing again.
You’re treating me like I might break at a harsh word. I won’t.
He eyed her skeptically.
