Page 37 of It Takes a Thief
After tossing and turning all night, I wake up feeling tired and maybe a little hungover. I don’t know if it’s from the alcohol I drank, the way Linc hoovered me into ecstasy, or a bit of both. Either way, I’m dreading going downstairs and facing him.
Maybe I overreacted a little, but his rejection stung.
I take my time getting ready, mentally preparing myself. After obsessively going over everything that happened last night, I decide the best course of action is to act like nothing happened. If he addresses it, I’ll agree with him that it was a mistake. Maybe even blame it on the alcohol in an attempt to save what’s left of my dignity.
Drawing in a deep breath, I finally drag myself downstairs. It’s after ten, and I’m sure Mr. Crack of Dawn has been up for hours.
The doors to the small balcony are open, so he must be outside. I pause as I pass by and he immediately looks up, but I don’t have anything to say to him and hustle into the kitchen for some much-needed coffee.
Linc comes inside while I’m preparing my caffeine fix, but I pretend not to notice.
“Can we talk?”
I punch the brew button, but don’t turn around. “Nothing to talk about,” I say coolly.
“Yeah, there is,” he argues.
Why does he have to make this difficult?I wonder. Channeling my inner zen warrior princess, I slowly turn around and arch a brow. As usual, he’s wearing a fitted T-shirt and cargo pants, and he looks absolutely edible. Mentally cursing my one-sided attraction, I wait for his spiel, hoping it’ll be quick.
“I get that you’re mad—”
“I’m not mad,” I interrupt, trying to keep my tone light and unaffected. It kind of works. Now it’s his turn to hike up an eyebrow.
“You’re not?” Doubt laces his voice, and it instantly irks me.
“I barely remember what happened last night, Linc. I drank too much and everything is a bit of a blur,” I lie. “I mean, I remember almost getting run over and then coming back here and fooling around, but it’s fine. I’m alive and still a virgin, no thanks to you. We’re all good, so you can go back outside or check the security system again. Whatever you need to do.”
Dismissing him, I turn around and reach for my mug. But not before I catch the look of disbelief that flickers over hisannoyingly rugged face. Blowing lightly on my coffee, I turn back around and walk past him, heading for the balcony. I enjoy drinking my coffee out here in the morning, and I refuse to change my normal ritual because of him. Hopefully, he doesn’t follow me.
But, of course he does. I sit down on the comfy rattan sofa and cross my legs. After a brief hesitation, he drops down in the chair across from me.
“If I hurt your feelings,” he says in a low voice, “I’m sorry.”
His softly-spoken statement catches me off guard. Dammit, why does he have to be all nice about it? I’d much rather he be a jerk, so then I can see his true colors. But, no, he apologizes. My chest tightens and I can’t keep up this silly charade of not caring. Because I do care, and he did hurt my feelings.
My stupid bottom lip quivers. I’m scared if I try to respond, my voice will crack. The truth is I threw myself at him and he wasn’t interested. I have to live with that, and I’ll find a way. Just like I’ll figure out how I’m going to return to a life in Arcadia and marry a man I don’t love.
“I’m sorry, too,” I finally say. “I put you in an awkward position and now I’m thoroughly embarrassed. I read too much into things, and I thought you liked me.”
“I do like you.”
His voice comes out all rumbly, and I tell myself it doesn’t mean anything.
“Right, as a friend and a job. I understand now, and if you want to leave—”
“I’m not going anywhere,” he says firmly. “I’m here to protect you, and that’s what I’m going to do. But…”
The way his voice trails off, so low and vaguely promising, snags my attention. “But, what?”
He heaves out a breath. “I’m trying my damnedest to ignore whatever is happening between us, but I can’t keep pretending I don’t want you.”
Hope surges up, flooding my heart. “You want me? Then why didn’t you take me? I offered myself up on a silver platter.”
“Because you aren’t like everyone else. And that means you shouldn’t be treated like it. You deserve a really special first time, and I’m not sure I’m the man to give you that.”
I blink in confusion. If I didn’t know better, I’d say Lincoln “Lights Out” Decker is doubting himself. But, why?
“You’re everything I could want and more,” I insist.
