Page 27 of Over & Out

He blinks, which only makes me meet his eyes. His incredibly sexy, stupid, naturally smoldering eyes. “Some things are private, bangles.”

I swallow. He’s right, of course. He likely has private projects and NDAs all over the place. What do I know? But before I can say anything else, he says, “But if you ask me a question, I’ll give you a straight answer, okay?”

I consider this. Really, I can’t ask for much more. I pinch my lips. “Fine. Also…there may be more rules forthcoming.”

“But we’re done here?”

I want one last dig—a win to show him I’m in charge. But those thick-lashed eyes bore into me, making my mouth become devoid of saliva, let alone anything smarmy to say. “We’re done,” I say tersely.

He leans in. “Great. See you…”

“Tomorrow,” I say, feeling suddenly warm at his proximity. “This was just an introduction meeting. That was supposed to happen yesterday, as well as the day before.”

“Right. Well, can’t wait to see how a full day goes.”

He’s completely ignored the fact that it’s his fault those meetings got bumped. And I know why. It’s because he can see his effect on me. I try to roll my eyes. To give him another snappy comeback, but with him standing so very close—has he moved closer?—every hormonal cell in my body feels like it’s shorting out.

“You know, maybe that’s the trick,” he says.

“What is?” I ask, though it comes out more like a squeak.

He knows the power he has. That star power I better become immune to very fucking fast.

“I think,” he says, leaning in so his face is beside me, the heat from his cheek radiating against mine. “You have less to argue about when we stand closer together.”

I want very badly to knee him in the balls. That would put an end to the white-hot liquid…somethingthat’s swirling around in my stomach. Instead, my absolutely treasonous body melts at the feel of his warm breath filtering through my hair and onto the shell of my ear. But I can’t fuckingmove.

When he pulls back, he’s not just smirking. He’s giving me a dazzling, full-on grin. I can see the dimples under the shadow of his beard, and I swear to God, my underwear feels slick. Because that grin, right now, is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. And it’s 100 percent my Duke. While he doesn’t know my connection to his characters, he damn well knows what he does to me. How can he not?

I’ve lost this round. It’s a total KO.

“See you tomorrow, bangles,” he says.

If I wasn’t already speechless, him revealing that he remembers the details of that meeting right down to the name he called me would get me there. So would the wink he tosses me over his shoulder. I’m still scrambling to get my head back in the game as he jogs back up the path. My flabbers are so gasted I can’t even enjoy any satisfaction over the way he has to walk with his arms out as he navigates the sharp pebbles of the path.

I let out a sharp growl of frustration.

When he reaches the stoop, I finally find myvoice. “You know, you’re not as hot as you think you are! Not with that ugly personality.”

“That right?” He’s reached the stoop.

“Yeah, that’s right.” I know I’m being juvenile, but if I’m going to keep this job, I can’t let him get to me. “In fact,” I say, planting my hands on my hips, “You’re so ugly that if my dog had a face like yours, I’d shave its ass and make it walk backward!”

This, unfortunately, makes Hopper howl with laughter. It’s funny, but it wasn’t meant to makehimlaugh.

I grit my teeth. Then I get in the car, slamming the door. When I peel off, he’s still laughing in the rearview.

I make it to the road again, but immediately pull onto the shoulder. I toss the car into park, yanking up the emergency brake. Then I grip the steering wheel, squeeze my eyes shut, and scream. I take a breath, then do it again.

This was Dad’s trick when things got too scary or intense. “Gotta let that adrenaline out somehow, pumpkin.” He said he did it on his way home from particularly harrowing jobs, and he made me do it when I came home from school sulking over being teased or failing a math test or after being in a fight with one of my friends.

I scream again, pretending Hopper’s right in front of me.

That dog line was my dad’s joke too, and Hopper had the same reaction my dad would have had. How is it that this is one of the few times I’ve thought about my father where it didn’t feel like my heart had been pulverized? Why did it have to be with Hopper?

Usually, after screaming, I burst into tears.

But this time, I feel alive in a way I haven’t in years. And that’s the scariest part of all.

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