AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Can we just focus on this?” She gestures to the papers in front of us.
“Sure.” I toss a handful of popcorn into my mouth. “When you tell me what I said that hurt your feelings.”
“My feelings aren’t hurt.” She crosses her arms over her chest and that tiny crease between her brows becomes a deep line in her forehead. “I was already well aware that you only think of me as somewhere to stick your dick.”
Oh. Oh.
I open my mouth to tell her that’s not at all how I regard her, but she’s not done.
She pins me with a patronizing smile. “Don’t worry, Avery. I’m used to guys wanting nothing but sex and not giving a crap about the person behind the body. I have no expectations of you, or any other man for that matter.” Her eyes flicker, hurt or pain slashing her features before she stands. “Excuse me. I need to use the bathroom.”
I’m fucking lost, but also not, and that alone makes no sense. My brain is swimming. Her braindead ex was a moron and a cheater, so her distrust of men, the perceived lack of self-worth she feels, it’s all justified. It makes sense.
What doesn’t make sense is why she’s upset with me. Sure, I’m into her body. I mean, just look at her. But it’s more than that. It’s the way she laughs, the way she talks, the way she doesn’t take my shit and challenges me. It’s her bright as hell smile that makes my own shine. She may not think so, but she’s strong.
I think about Dex’s words from Monday, the mention of her ultra-sensitive side, buried beneath her big attitude. The way she scooped up her niece and showered her in kisses while the two of them giggled. The way she melted into my side when I conned her into a group hug with me and Vivi. I remember how surprisingly good it all felt, how I hadn’t wanted it to end so quickly.
My request for a date had come right after that, completely unplanned. The words flew from my mouth before I could stop them. And that’s the thing: I don’t date much. Sometimes a dinner here and there as a formality, wine and dine before the fun, but I’d told Claire we didn’t have to have sex and I’d actually meant it. That is something I don’t do.
Something else I don’t do is casually text girls, and especially not for days at a time.
So of course now Claire thinks I’m playing her, reeling her in.
Am I though? What’s my plan here? I sigh and tug at my hair. I honestly don’t even know. She intrigues me and I like being around her, talking to her. I want to talk to her, spend time with her. I mean, shit, here I am on a Friday night, with her, in my office, when I could be anywhere else with any other woman who wouldn’t be giving me anywhere near the amount of trouble she is.
When she returns, Claire settles on the couch, further away from me than before. She tucks her feet underneath her butt and pops her pen back in her mouth, flipping through her journal.
I don’t know what to say. This is not going at all the way I thought it would. Not that I thought we’d fuck, and I definitely expected to bicker, but what I hadn’t planned for was an upset Claire and a confused Avery and the yanking feeling in my stomach that’s making me feel like a bit of an asshole.
“The company we use to make our staff shirts and signage has agreed to do all our merchandise. They can even do glass etching, which is cool, so we can use them exclusively,” she says, as if nothing had happened. “It’s a small company and they’ve never handled orders this big, so I know it’s a bit of a risk, but I like the idea of keeping it local. Also, it’s a couple of girls who do it to pay their way through school, which I feel good about.”
I nod thoughtfully. “I agree. That’s a good idea.”
“Yeah. They’re really excited about it. Cost is good too, since they don’t have any overhead.”
Claire trails off and I go back to looking through the kitchen plans she’s put together, sensing she needs some space.
Twenty minutes later, I can’t stand the silence anymore. I look up to find her twirling a loose copper wave around her finger, sea green eyes trained on me. Her face flushes when our gazes meet, and she looks back down to her paper.
“You okay?” I ask her. I don’t know why. It’s a stupid question. She’s not okay, but she’s not going to be honest with me.
A slow, mischievous smirk takes over her face. “Are you?” This woman is a conundrum.
I lean back on my hands. “Depends on how you answer the question, Claire.”
With a sigh, she waves a hand around. “I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.”
“’Kay. But I do.”
“Why?”
“I’m not sure,” I murmur truthfully.
“Am I turning you soft?” she teases playfully, stretching out on the couch. She kicks her legs up on the back of the couch and wiggles her toes, which match her blushing fingernails, and her shirt rides up her stomach.
My brows inch up. “Do you have a belly ring, little Miss Strawberry?” How the hell did I miss that last Friday? I had my hands all up in that dress of hers.
She looks down at the jewel in her navel and blushes, tugging her shirt down. She gives me a cheeky little smile. “I asked my mom to get my belly button pierced when I was thirteen. She said no.” Claire laughs. “Actually, she said, Hell no, Claire! So, naturally, Charlee and I snuck out one Friday night, went to the shadiest place we could find that didn’t care that you were supposed to have parental consent before the age of sixteen, and got our belly buttons pierced.”
