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Now, after less than twenty-four hours with Donovan, I’m not so sure. There’s something about him, all uptight and irritating in his perfectly tailored business suits. The way his dark hair flops over the right side of his forehead. And how his lip twitches when he’s trying not to laugh.
The back-and-forth insults we trade like baseball cards are feeling less like personal attacks and more like flirting.
All of which I hate because it’s weakening my resolve and making him more human than monster. I promised myself I would remain steadfast in my dislike for him, but the more time we spend together, the more I forget the stains of our past. And that hurt, that rejection, is something I need to hold on to. If anything, I need the protection. The reminder.
Of course, it would’ve been a lot easier if I didn’t know exactly what he looked like under his crisp white button-up shirt.
“I hope this next place is better than the last. I think there was something wrong with the wine.” He glances at me from the other side of the backseat, his nose scrunched like he can still smell the lingering scent.
He should look ridiculous, but he doesn’t. He’s also right. I think there was something wrong with the wine. It had a chemical smell, something similar to sulfur. I think it has something to do with too much or too little oxygen in the wine-making process, I couldn’t remember which. Maybe that’s why I was feeling different toward Donovan. Is it possible that tainted wine would make you feel less hostile and more…. Enamored? Intrigued? Allured?
“You’re in luck.” I scoot a little closer to the window, needing to maintain as much space as possible between us. I don’t know why he insisted on riding back here with me instead of up front with his assistant, Jared. I’m sure he wants to maximize his opportunity to aggravate me. It’s working. “We only have one more, and this one is supposed to be the best. The other one was fairly new and didn’t have any reviews.”
“I’m not sure I can trust a word you say at this rate.” Donovan smiles. It’s one of those genuine smiles that he never gave freely as a teenager, and I doubt that’s changed now that he’s an adult. It’s a good thing too. His smile is so potent, I nearly do something stupid like reach out and touch him. It almost makes me think he’s a nice guy underneath his expensive suit and haughty exterior.
“It’s a good thing I don’t care what you think.”
He runs a hand across the light dusting of stubble lining his jaw and crosses his arms. His forearms bulge with every adjustment, and I’m momentarily distracted from life. After we left the last place, he discarded his jacket in the passenger seat of the SUV and rolled the sleeves of his dress shirt up to his elbows. I don’t know why that’s so appealing, but it is, and I’m almost positive he does it on purpose.
“It’s a wonder you’re still single.”
I shoot him a cutting look, digging my nails into the strap of the seat belt to keep from reaching out and slapping him. “It’s not for lack of bedmates. I just haven’t found a man who wows me beyond the size of his dick.”
Donovan’s jaw tics, but he remains silent, staring at me with a combination of anger and jealousy. He has no right to either.
“You had your chance, Donny, and you walked away like a coward.” I remind him with a small smile and glance toward his package. “Not my fault if you have a little problem.”
Jared snickers but falls silent as Donovan shoots him a withering look in the rearview mirror. His heating gaze settles on me, and my smile grows exponentially. “I do not have a little anything.”
I hum in response, and his jaw tightens, clearly not happy with me, but I don’t care. Doesn’t matter anyway, it’s not long before Jared pulls into a large gravel parking lot, breaking the tension.
“Wow,” I murmur, getting out of the car and gaping at the main building. It looks like a farmhouse on steroids but despite its massive size, it still looks warm and inviting.
Donovan says something to Jared but I’m already out of the SUV and heading up to the wrap-around front porch. I trail my fingers along the shiny black railing as I climb the stairs, taking in the handmade benches, planters overflowing with beautiful flowers, and the porch swings on either side of the building.
I take a deep breath, inhaling the fresh air, letting it seep into my pores and cleanse my soul. I make my way to the end of the porch and run my hand along the wood of the swing.
It isn’t much different from the one we had at our house growing up.
After dinner, while my mom was doing dishes and Everett would disappear to work on his homework or watch TV, Dad and I would go out back and sit on the swing. I always had a glass of water and he would have a beer. We’d sit and watch the sun disappear over the horizon and wait for the lightning bugs to flash around us. He knew how much I loved looking at them as they lit up the backyard, and he would indulge me every chance he got. Sometimes he’d let me chatter on about my friends or a boy I thought was cute, and sometimes we would sit in silence and enjoy each other’s company. We did this for years. Until he and my mom were taken away from us by a drunk driver. I was barely nineteen when it happened. My brother sold the house and nearly everything in it soon after.
It doesn’t weigh on me as much as it used to. I’ve dealt with my grief over the years, and the sting of their death has lessened. Still, sometimes something gets to me. Usually when I least expect it.
I jump as Donovan’s hand presses to my lower back. The weight of it against my skin, the support it offers me, has me leaning into his touch.
“Are you okay?” he rasps into my ear, his breath brushing along the curve of my neck.
With a fake smile, I turn to him, pushing away the memories of my past “I’m fine. I just…”
“I know. My sister told me when it happened.” He lets us stand there in silence, each of us lost in the past for a few minutes, until he flexes his fingers on my waist and guides us back to the front door. “Come on. We have wine to drink and you have some more insults to sling my way.”
“Obviously. Wouldn’t want you to think I actually liked you or something.”
“Definitely wouldn’t want something like that.” His voice is low, barely a whisper, as his hand feathers across my back and falls to his side.
I shouldn’t miss his touch or the solace it offers.
I shouldn’t, but I do.
