Yet—despite all of that—here we are, sitting together at her work desk mere feet from a casket while we craft guidelines for the possibility ofus.
And this possibility?
It feels attainable.
Because even though I’ve offered to act in whatever role she gives me, right now I’m just being myself. And, despite myself, August hasn’t yet given up on the straitlaced Alister Dominic Montgomery, who’s a little too attached to the idea of printed rules and regulations being involved in his love life.
Matter-of-factly, she says, “Obviously, you’re not allowed to touch me without permission, and failure to adhere to this rule will result in the termination of this entire arrangement, brokenlimbs courtesy of Wynnter, and a public declaration on my part that I may never again participate in anything half as stupid as this plot.”
“Definepermission.”
August looks at me, and if she were anyone else, I do believe thisstupid plotwould be over right here and now. Instead, she says, “A valid point. The term ‘permission’ does need more clarification in the context of anenemies-to-loversstory, doesn’t it? After all, it’d be idiotic to have my enemy ask before he tries to stab me.” Pondering, she cups her mouth. “You’re fairly respectful, and I don’t get any disconcerting vibes off you, but you’re still a guy, this isn’t a book, and you can’t read my mind. Desiring an enemies plotline creates a level of danger. I don’t know how I handle danger in the real world.” A silent moment passes, then August’s eyes spark. She snaps her fingers as she pushes her chair back. “I’ve got it.” Whirling out of the office, she heads to her kitchen, and I leave my stool to follow.
My heart leaps then plummets as she—the most beautiful girl in the world—retrieves a kitchen knife and spins toward me, smile effervescent. “Could you pin me to the wall with this for a second? I need to know my limits before we can accurately outline them in our document.”
…
I stare at her. At the shade of blush slathered across her cheeks beneath her many freckles. At the gleam in her eyes. And then…at the blade in her hand. The blade she is asking a practical stranger to use as an assist inpinning her to the wall.
Yeah, I knew we were both abitinsane, but this is a different level of mental unwellness.
Especially since I step forward…and take it.
Glancing between her and the silver edge of the large kitchen knife, I say, “You know I could be a serial killer, right?”
“If you are, I bet this is the opposite of attractive. I’m pretty sure serial killers prefer the power and control of a whimpering, frightened victim.” She searches the surrounding area for an acceptable pinning location. “Whimpering and frightened, I am not and have never been. At this point, I’m more likely to find it charming if you try to kill me.” She points behind her, at the pale yellow wall by the fridge. “Is there good?” She starts toward it, ready to splay herself helplessly before a blade-wielding stranger.
I stop her in her tracks. “Probably I should back you into it, right? You shouldn’t start this scene sprawled out for me prematurely. That’s not realistic.” Because, obviously, realism is ever so important to the both of us.
She stops short, eyes wide beyond the lenses of her glasses. “You’re so right.”
“Mm.” I just bet I am. Slipping thefreaking actual knifeback into its holder, I open her utensil drawer and secure a pair of plastic—read:harmless—pizza scissors.
When I meet August’s eyes, they’re no longer sparkling or wide. Lip jutted, she mutters, “My aptitude for suspension of disbelief is depreciating.”
“You expect me to have a steady hand inches from my crush?” I take a step toward her.
She doesn’t budge backward. “Well, I think what we’re proposing here does actually require you to maintain a substantial level of nerve, actually.”
I stop an inch from her, looking down.
Head tilted back to meet my eyes, August bares her throat.
I touch the handle of the pizza scissors to the slender column and nudge her chin up another centimeter. “Would you like to sayactuallyagain, darling?”
The craze in her eyes reignites, sending a pulse down into my toes. Smiling, August whispers, “Sure would. You’reactuallya great guy, aren’t you, Dominic?”
“I don’t know about all that.” I readjust my grip, putting the curved plastic flat around her neck. “At the very least, I hear I’m alovely individual.”
“Your wit isn’t too bad.” She relinquishes a step, and I follow, backing her toward the wall.
“Is this how you handle all your enemies?” I murmur. “By showering them in compliments?”
“A pretty nifty book once told me that kindness is a great way to pile hot coals upon my adversaries’ heads.” Her back hits the wall, and she flattens her palms to it. “Forgive me my cruelty. You’ve had enough recent disasters involving fire, haven’t you?”
I lower my face, dance my fingers down her arm, and lace our hands together. “Nothing compares to the blaze you set loose inside me, August.”
Her grip around my hand solidifies, and my heart lurches at the sensation of our palms pressing tightly together. She giggles. “You’re fairly good at this. I’d be inclined to believe you’ve had practice if you didn’t blush so easily.”
