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“History dictates as much.”
“But he blew you off.” She shrugged a shoulder. “And now, you’re pissed about it.”
“I’m not pissed about it.”
“You look pissed about it.”
“I’m not pissed about it!”
“The lady doth protest way, way too fucking much.”
“The lady thinks you’re a dick. And put that tomato down.” I huffed and tugged my sandwich right in front of me.
She leaned forward and waved the slice in my face. “Admit you’re annoyed about it and I will.”
“Fine. I’m annoyed.” I batted her hand away. “I’m shock-annoyed, all right? I didn’t think he’d do that. It goes against everything I know about the man.”
“Everything you think you know,” Abby paused, her fingers curling around her open water bottle. “Do you really know Damien Fox at all?”
***
Did I know Damien Fox at all?
If any question was ever worth a million bucks, it was that one.
I thought I did. Maybe it was a pre-conceived notion, sure. But it was an idea of the kind of person he was, at the very least. Sure, it was almost entirely made up of rumors and hearsay, of opinions from everyone other than myself, but was that a bad thing?
Rumors weren’t always true, after all. Hearsay was generally just that.
The only person whose opinion I truly trusted where he was concerned was Mia’s. Even then, by her own admission, she didn’t know much about him at all.
Why did I care?
That was the second million-dollar question.
Why did I stop to think about who he really was? It didn’t matter to me. Not really. It was nothing more than a fleeting, curious thought…That wasn’t so fleeting at all.
It was more than that.
It was fleeting in its quickness—each and every time it passed my mind. The need to know who Damien truly was flashed like a bolt of lightning, consuming me for the split second it existed, only to peter out into the darkness once more.
The frequency of the thought was getting greater. The shout louder. The length longer.
It was becoming something more intriguing and consuming than I was prepared for.
Not that I was prepared for anything. The past several months had taught me to prepare for everything except what I expected.
I’d known that Damien Fox was a hard sell and that getting rid of him would be near to impossible, but I never thought it’d be anything like this.
I never thought he’d filter his way into my thoughts when I was in my own time…Like when I was sitting at the bar of Rock Solid, Mia’s husband’s bar.
I’d been staring at gyrating male bodies for at least thirty minutes, yet that’s all they were. Hot guys moving their hips in a way that should be illegal.
West Rykman rested his forearms on the bar in front of me and slid me a small, clear shot with a deft flick of his finger. “Drink.”
I didn’t question it.
I threw it back and pushed the glass back toward him. “Is that it?”
He laughed, his handsome face crinkling. “Mia told me to give you something strong. She said if the words ‘Dahlia’ and ‘Damien’ were in the same sentence, it called for shots.”
I couldn’t imagine where she got that idea.
“History might support that,” I admitted, staring at the empty glass. “But that was only one.”
Wordlessly, he poured another and gave it to me.
I drank it with the finesse of the last one. I even dribbled a bit of the vodka and had to wipe my mouth, something that made West chuckle.
I flipped him the bird. “I’m too grown up for my age.”
“Mia would agree with you,” he called, pouring vodka into a tall glass. He added cranberry and handed it to me. “No ice, so you know I’m not screwing with you on the vodka.”
I fought my smirk when he winked. “Mia is right.”
“Mia’s always right.”
“Only because she’s your wife.”
“Shh. She might hear you.” He grinned. “So, Damien Fox, huh.”
“I did hear you,” Mia said, slipping onto the seat next to me. “And I’m not sure she wants to hear what you have to say about him.”
I glanced between my fiery-haired friend and her husband. “Actually…”
West sighed and reached for a wine glass. Less than a minute later, he’d handed Mia a glass of wine and we were following him upstairs to the office space that occupied the second floor of Rock Solid’s building.
He sat on the large corner sofa and leaned back. “You have to know by now that not many people know much about Damien.”
“But you’re friends.” I took a seat at the end, cradling my glass in my lap.
“That doesn’t mean I know much.”
Mia snorted. “You know more than you told me when I asked you.”
“When you interrogated me, you mean.” West glanced in her direction.
She sat on his desk and waved her hand. “Ask, interrogate…Po-tay-to, poh-tah-to.”
He stared at her for a moment longer before flitting his attention to me. “There are a lot of rumors about the Fox family. Do you know many?”
