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Once I’m alone, it’s a different story. My nails dig into my palms, and I’m practically vibrating with impotent fury as the elevator takes me down to my place. Assigning a babysitter to me like I’m a child who can’t be trusted. And there I was, relieved that I wouldn’t have to live under Dallas’s scrutiny for a little while. That I could relax when I was alone, that I wouldn’t have to avoid pointed questions or provide explanations. I should know better by now. Mason always has a plan up his sleeve.
A plan that takes the form of a freshly showered Dallas, who is already seated in my living room and going through the choices on TV. “Hey, there,” he says with an easy grin when I enter the apartment and glare at him with my hands on my hips. “Looks like we’re going to be spending some more time together.” When all I can do is stare daggers at his skull, his smile widens.
It’s a smile I can’t wait to wipe from his face.
10
DALLAS
Ididn’t expect her to throw a party over this, but her reaction is on the verge of being insulting. I can’t take it personally, and I don’t, watching her fume and glare at me. In another minute, she’ll stomp her foot or threaten to hold her breath until I leave. That’s the level of maturity I’m dealing with.
It isn’t easy to keep from grinning at her obvious anger. What can I say? She’s even more appealing when she’s like this, all flushed and energized and ready to rip somebody’s head off.
“Come on,” I urge in a playful tone, patting the sofa cushion next to me. “Sit down, take a load off, and relax for a while.”
Her brow furrows. “This is absurd.”
“We can agree on that much,” I admit. I can think of a few other words that apply. Dangerous is one of them, though that’s my problem to deal with. Not hers. “All right, so we agree the situation is laughable. Now that we have that out of the way, we can move forward.”
“Because it’s that easy?”
“It doesn’t have to be hard. What’s the use of getting all bent out of shape and resentful? That only makes things worse.”
When all she does is deepen her scowl, I have to laugh. “Look around,” I implore, waving an arm over the room. “You could do a hell of a lot worse than being locked up in what’s essentially a palace compared to that tiny cabin. Tell me the truth. Have you been in worse situations than this? More uncomfortable situations?”
“You know I have,” she mutters.
“There you go,” I murmur. No matter how she fusses and fights, I need to be the bigger person, which means maintaining a sense of calm. “You’ve been through much worse. So have I, for that matter. This is nothing. You have an excuse to sit back, kick your feet up, and rest after so much running.”
She’s softening before my eyes. Some of the anger begins to melt away, but not all of it. She’s too stubborn to give in that easily. “I need a shower.”
“I won’t argue with you on that.” She rolls her eyes before turning away, and I’m barely able to stifle a snicker. I’m also barely able to keep myself from staring at her ass as she retreats. I’m only human.
I need to stay strong. There’s no room for me to forget why I’m here, what’s at stake. I can’t let my feelings for her overwrite what I know needs to be done. Whatever is compelling her hasn’t subsided. She is still secretive and guarded. What she needs now is to know she’s safe.
What I need is to keep my hands to myself. We’ll see how successful I am.
At least there’s one good part of this: I don’t have to compete with Griffin. I hate using the word even in my mind, but it’s the only word that fits. There’s no competition for her attention now, no trying to prove she prefers one of us over the other. Watching him watching her, asking myself if he’s imagining himself in her bed. And this is a hell of a lot more comfortable than any cabin in the woods. As far as I’m concerned, things are looking up.
By the time she’s out of the shower, my stomach is growling. That’s nothing compared to the hunger that stirs low in my core when she emerges from her room. She’s dressed in a slightly more relaxed version of her normal gear, having foregone the chic suit and stilettos for a pair of gray slacks and a pale blue silk blouse. The fabric glides over her skin as she moves, shimmering softly in the light streaming through the windows. She’s pulled her hair back into a low ponytail. A far cry from the wild mess it was when we first found her at the cabin.
