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But it was just as much of a cop-out as a text message. No . . . it was better than a text message. He would be able to hear the sincerity in her voice and know that she meant it.
She hit “Call” before she could talk herself out of it and put the phone on speaker. Somehow, lifting it to her ear and hearing his voice so intimately close felt too personal. Especially when she was in bed, wearing nothing but panties and a tank top.
The phone rang, twice . . . three times . . .
This was a terrible idea. She was about to cancel the call when his voice rang out in the dark silence of her room. He sounded groggy, angry, unutterably sexy . . . and like he was right there in bed with her. The rogue thought made her uncomfortable, and she immediately regretted making this call from her bedroom.
“Daff? It’s twelve thirty. Why are you calling so late? Are you okay? Mason? Daisy?” Okay, she couldn’t lie to herself—she found it sweet as hell that he was immediately concerned for her well-being.
“Daff?” he prompted, irritation and fear mounting in his voice when she didn’t respond straightaway.
“I didn’t know it was so late,” she admitted. It was the truth—she’d been stressing about this matter all evening, and the time got away from her. The silence stretched between them, taut, uncomfortable, and incredibly awkward. Daff wasn’t sure how to break it. She heard the faint rustling of crisp, clean bedsheets as he shifted.
“It couldn’t wait till morning?” he finally asked, and she was relieved that he had spoken and not merely hung up on her.
“I—I had to apologize.” Even though it was something she wanted and needed to do, the words still had the consistency of sawdust in her mouth.
“Had to, huh?” He sounded speculative, and she heard the bedsheets rustling again. Was he sitting up? What was he wearing? Was he bare chested? Had the covers just slid down his chest to pool in his lap? Was he more than bare chested? Did he sleep naked?
The distracting thoughts made her groan, and she pinched the bridge of her nose to get herself back on track.
“I said some pretty nasty things,” she admitted, and he grunted. It sounded like agreement. “I should apologize for them.”
“You should,” he agreed amicably and then felled her with a zinger. “But do you want to?”
Her answer didn’t take much thought. “Yes. I want to.” She was surprised to find that she meant it.
“You mean you don’t think I’m . . . what was it? Bland, boring, and insipid?”
“I mean, I barely know you,” she prevaricated, and that prompted another grunt from him. She couldn’t quite interpret this one. “So I can’t be the best judge of what you actually are.”
“As apologies go, this one is pretty shitty,” he said, stifling a yawn.
“I’m trying, okay?” she snapped. Then immediately regretted the slight lapse in temper.
“If I have the personality of a mushroom, you have the disposition of a wasp—skinny, sometimes good to look at, with a propensity to go on the attack with little to no provocation.”
She gasped, his words immediately getting her back up, but she forced herself to take a deep breath and fought to get her temper under control.
“Okay, you earned that shot. We’re even now.”
“Still waiting for my apology,” he reminded her, and she scowled at her phone screen.
“You could be a bit more gracious about this,” she hissed, and he sighed.
“Daff, it’s nearly one in the morning. Why not get this over with so that we can both get a decent night’s sleep? I don’t know about you, but Monday is my busiest day and if I don’t get enough sleep I won’t be able to function very well at all.”
“Fine,” she snapped through clenched teeth, before swallowing and screwing her eyes shut. “I’m really sorry I said those things about you. It was wrong and I do regret it.”
“Okay.” Her eyes flew open and she stared at her phone—the only source of light in the room—in disbelief.
“‘Okay’? That’s it?” Didn’t he know how much the stupid apology had taken out of her? And that was all he had to say in response to it?
“Yeah. And thank you.”
“But—”
“I’ll see you soon, Daff. Sleep tight.” He hung up before she could say another word, and Daff gritted her teeth before lifting a pillow to her face and screaming in frustration. She immediately picked up her phone, did a quick Google image search, and loaded a new profile picture and name to replace the white-on-gray SC that had formerly been on the screen next to his name. There. Much better.
She flung her phone aside and threw herself down on the bed and spent the rest of the night tossing and turning and fuming. Getting little to no sleep at all.
