Page 75 of Bared

She pulled the device back with a fierce snap. “People do have real lives, Brickham. Lives that are filled with things like work and meetings and priorities.”

“Sure they do.”

It was not his swift reply that kept her on edge. It was the urbanity in his voice, so smooth and controlled—a total mismatch to the gathering storms in his eyes.

“You have not even met the man!” she fumed.

“That makes two of us, doesn’t it?”

She glowered, already bracing for the argument he was prefacing. It would be all of Emme’s contentions on repeat. Why had LaBarre not bothered to contact her himself for twenty-four years? Why had he been so easily convinced to shove off to Paris instead of staying in Arcadia to be near her? How had he not missed her? Wondered about her? Made any attempt to see her? Or had he done all those things only to be thwarted by some Arcadian red tape she knew nothing about?

Or something worse than that?

Had Ardent Cimarron, the man she had called paipanne her entire life, purposely kept her from the man who truly deserved the title?

She hated thinking that. Even more, she hated believing—knowing—that it was a real possibility. But she also recognized that she was leaping to many unproved suppositions, which were festering into outright judgments. Every story in life had at least two sides. That number grew when the tale was dirtied with politics, power, public images, and the daunting job of keeping a country prosperous.

“Unlike most of the world”—she jumped her brows directly his way—“I refuse to color in lines that haven’t been clearly drawn yet.”

“Then that makes two of us once more.” Another answer that was too quick and sure for her comfort, especially because of the follow-up he obviously had at the ready. “The same salt you’re tossing on prejudging him, I’m pouring on insta-trusting him.” He fortified his stance, officially becoming the most impossible thing in the room to ignore. “That brings us to the fun zone of finding a magic middle ground.”

Force of nature. The man earned every word of it, along with a new add-on, once he finished his directive with a nod at her phone—

Which jingled with a new text from LaBarre.

I will never forgive myself if I cannot

hold you at last. 24 years is too long to

wait. Are you still available now?

She did not dare even hover a thumb over the screen. While Brickham’s mandate had likely been dunked in the stuff before it hit his lips, she was compelled to see his logic. Her blind credence in LaBarre’s texts—the only form of communication he seemed comfortable with, after her many attempts at a phone conversation—were what landed her in trouble before. But if Brick thought she was going to let him run five levels of security on her phone before she even responded to her father, he had a glaring awakening coming.

Still, negotiations had to start somewhere. She kicked off theirs by pivoting the phone again and letting the gorgeous giant dip in for a read.

At once, Brickham’s face tightened. She indulged in a few seconds of beguilement at the sight. The person who fought like a winter storm, kissed like a burst of spring sun, and screwed like a summer tidal wave was now the guy resembling a protective autumn oak from the Wood Between the Worlds. Never had she enjoyed a lesson about the four seasons so much—even when they got a new overlay of his prickly growling.

“I assume I’ll get nowhere in saying this isn’t a great idea?”

Preparing for the man’s contention was a smart idea, after all. The groundwork made it possible to slip him a serene smile. “That is an accurate assumption, Sir.”

Her spin on the honorific earned her his flared nostrils and pursed lips. That was before he took a looming step into her personal space. Her senses crackled all over again. Would he correct her about it now? And in what ways? He was now back within stomping distance of his unused kitchen toys…

“Tough toenails,” he went ahead and bit out. “I’m saying it anyway. Not a great idea, princess.” He barely snorted when she took a turn at the glare—as well as the temptation to fetch the tongs and the tenderizer for her own evil fun. “But it’s not a totally crappy one, either.”

“Brickham.” She launched into the protest before he was done, rolling her shoulders back. “You have the right to register your views about this, but as I have made clear, I am a grown woman. Despite what everyone thinks, maybe even you included, I have the capability to think for myself. I can also—” Her hands, which she parked on her hips for all of three seconds, fell limp. “Uh…huh? Okay—it’s—what?”

Goodbye, autumn tree. Hello, brilliant winter sky, so bright and blue in his eyes, as he flashed a congenial smirk. “I said that it’s not a completely crappy idea.”

“You…did?” She recovered quickly, folding her arms with take-charge energy. “Ah well, yes. Of course you did.”

“Meeting with LaBarre sooner than later means Carris has less time to coordinate any interventions.”

“True.” She had rarely agreed with anything more. Besides, this was a good thing. Very good. The middle ground he mentioned them working for.

“And since Requiemme’s safe with Oz and Jagger, I can be fully focused on watching over you.”

For a long second, her jaw worked against empty air. “Errrr… You want to come with me?”