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Heat filled her cheeks, which she bit the inside of to keep from grinning. “You have a one-track mind.”
“I think so when it comes to you.” Donovan motioned for her to sit. She did at one end of the couch while he sat on the other. “What’s going on with you?”
“Huh?” She gulped and looked over at him with her eyes, not moving her head.
Donovan adjusted himself into the corner of the couch. His left thigh was cocked on the cushions. “Are you nervous with me being here?”
“No,” she lied. “Maybe a little.”
“I can go back to the hotel, British. I meant it when I said I wanted to take things slow with you.”
Yet she didn’t want to take things slow. “This is just awkward with you being here and, no, I don’t want you to leave. Deer season has picked up and with all the hunters out there searching for big game, I’d hate for a buck to run out on the road and cause you to swerve.”
A passing car blared its horn in the street.
“Like what happened to Christian?”
A pinch of pain, a threat of tears rushed through British. “It’s not fair to talk about that with you.”
Donovan leaned across the couch and took her hand in his. “It is absolutely fair. We’re together.”
She cut her eyes at him and he nodded.
“I know it’s crazy, British,” he said softly. “I can’t say what the future holds for us, but as of right now, I’m here with you. We’re together. If you’re in pain, I want to know why and what to do to solve it.”
“I’m not in pain,” she replied with a shaky voice. “I’m just. Afraid.”
“Why?”
“I don’t want to lose you.” And then she realized eventually he would leave...and that was what she wanted, right? “I mean like that. In a tragic accident because of me.”
“Christian’s accident wasn’t because of you, either,” he said.
“What do you think we ought to eat?” British changed the subject and Donovan went along with it. They decided to order in Chinese food and watch some TV as they waited.
MET stayed true to its brand, airing several multicultural Christmas romance films. Halfway through the movie based on a Brenda Jackson book, their food arrived. Donovan straightened up her coffee table while she fixed a couple glasses of wine. They set their cartons of beef and broccoli, General Tso’s chicken, spicy noodles, crispy honey wings, eggrolls, crab rangoon and Chinese doughnuts in front of them and sat with their legs crisscrossed on the floor. Donovan attempted to impress her with his use of chopsticks until he dropped a piece of broccoli on the table.
“I never would have pegged you as a romance fan,” British teased him once the movie ended.
Donovan pulled himself up from the floor and sat with his back against his side of the couch. “It’s Brenda Jackson,” he said simply.
“One of your many girlfriends must have left her romance books behind,” British mumbled and immediately regretted saying so. “Geez, I’m sorry. I must sound like a jealous girlfriend.”
Donovan wiggled his brows at her. “Girlfriend.”
It was hard to do anything but smile when around him. British instead rolled her eyes. She stood and gathered their empty containers.
>
“You can’t believe everything you’ve read about me, British.” Donovan stood to help, taking the containers into his hand.
“I didn’t read it,” she clarified. “I saw it all on social media.”
“When did you look me up?”
“I did not.” British pressed her hand against her heart. “But the girls did. And they showed me every single model you’ve dated in the last three years.”
“Define ‘dated.’”
