Page 43 of Heavy Crown

“You were wearing jeans and a T-shirt the morning I woke up, but otherwise you’re always in a suit.”

“I usually come from work. Do you want me to go back and change?” I throw my thumb over my shoulder. Who knew dark gray sweatpants and a white tank top would send her into a lust spiral? The sexual tension zips between us. My hands itch with the desire to bury themselves in the blond strands of her hair, and my lips tingle with the need to angle my mouth over hers, to discover how deep vanilla and sugar mingle on her body.

“No, I—” She shakes her head. “A walk sounds good.” She closes the door behind her and falls into step beside me. “Posey came to see me today. Turns out your pity friendship might work out all right.”

I laugh and examine her profile. “Oh? You liked her?”

“She’s honest in all the best ways.”

“There are bad ways of being honest?”

“Selective honesty.” She gives me the side-eye. “Where you give the details you feel like giving and avoid the rest.”

“I feel attacked.” I clutch my chest in a joke, but my heart speeds at the truth in her words.

“You should.”

A hint of a smile tugs at my lips. Posey is the easy conversation. We can save my trust issues for another day. “I’ve known her all my life. She took up Julia’s rebellious mantle when she dropped it. So beware.”

“What’s that mean?” Amusement spills out of her. “Julia used to be a rebel?”

“A bit. More with Nick than anyone else. Once she took the secretary job, she, I don’t know, became more sensible. In high school she and her mother butted heads a lot.”

“Posey mentioned you two dated.”

I scowl. “She must have misunderstood my explicit instructions on suitable topics of conversation.”

Rory hits my arm. “You did not give her a list of conversation topics.”

“I did. I don’t need her loose lips sinking Bellerive’s ships.”

“Whatever gets sunk, you suggested Posey as a friend.”

“Yes, I may need to reconsider my endorsement. She’s clearly a bad influence already.”

Rory laughs.

“How’s your head?” I ask.

“Better. Much better. I don’t have to watch the clock until I can take more painkillers.”

We walk in silence for a beat, and then Rory turns so she’s walking backward just ahead of me. “How come you didn’t tell me Derrick was flooding the front entrance with gifts?”

I purse my lips. When Posey found them and offered to deliver them to Rory, I debated telling her she couldn’t. But that would have raised Posey’s suspicions even more, so I gave a curt nod and left her to it. “Would you have wanted any of it?”

A smile somewhere between annoyance and delight seesaws across her expression. “The Rollerblades are nice.”

“Are they?” I raise my eyebrows. “Don’t know anything about Rollerblades.”

“You’re not going to answer my question?”

“Did you ask a question? I must have missed it.” I shove my hands into the pockets of my sweatpants to keep from drawing her closer. The joy she takes in everything, from teasing me to discussing Rollerblades, to baking in her kitchen, is contagious. While I recognize her point about me not giving direct answers to her questions, I don’t know how to be open and honest with her and not slide into a relationship we can’t have. With her, more than anyone else I’ve ever known, a crack will lead to a flood. Of that, I’m one hundred percent sure.

My evenings, here with her, are by far my favorite part of any day. To allow myself any further examination of her, of us, would steer us into the red zone. I’m quite happy here in my bright-orange potential circle of doom rather than dipping into full-on hell. Having her, even with the understanding I can’t ever have her, would be torture. We’re not meant to be, and I am no masochist.

“Come on,” Rory cajoles. “Give me this one.”

The reason I held Derrick’s offerings is perhaps the most dangerous. I want him gone from her life. He doesn’t deserve her, and he’s the type of man, when given an inch, he’ll take a mile. “You can do better than Derrick McGuinty.”