Page 21 of Falling for the Bad Boy
“Wrong again.”
“Is it upstairs?” I glanced at the closest staircase, letting my gaze travel up and around to where it met the other side. All of a sudden, I wanted to see the bedroom where she’d grown up. Trinity was so unlike the rest of her family, and even her best friend. How could she have grown up in this environment and turned out so different than her siblings? Her bedroom had to hold some kind of clue.
“Definitely not upstairs.” She folded her arms over her stomach.
“Is that where your bedroom is?” I lifted a brow.
She eyed me through a lock of hair that had fallen over her eye. “Maybe.”
“Does it have posters of your favorite boy bands plastered all over the walls?” I put a hand on the railing and a foot on the first step.
“You’re not going up there.” She hit me with a glare that could’ve melted steel.
If I’d been a different man, a wiser man, maybe even a less stubborn man, I might have heeded the warning signs. Instead, I took her resistance as a challenge. “You wanna bet?”
She scoffed. “No way. Guests of the opposite sex aren’t allowed on the second floor. That’s always been one of my dad’s rules.”
I stepped close. Close enough to see the tiny specks of gold in her eyes. Close enough to breathe in the scent of her perfume. Close enough to see goosebumps pop up along her arm. “You don’t strike me as the rule-following type.”
“Oh, fine.” She laced her fingers with mine and dragged me up the stairs. “Two minutes. You have two minutes to walk through the hall and then it’s back down to dinner, okay?”
Two minutes would be long enough to do what I’d wanted to do since I picked her up earlier that night, and maybe more if she’d let me.
We passed open doorways in a blur. I tried to peek in but all I caught were glimpses of dark wood, plush creamy carpet, and patterned wallpaper. It was everywhere. Her mum had spent a lot of time—and most likely a lot of cash—decorating. I thought of the worn wooden floorboards in the farmhouse back home… the glow of the hearth this time of year… the big table my dad had built with his own hands. How stark it appeared in contrast to the lush surroundings of Trinity’s home. It all seemed a world away.
“There. Now will you stop trying to renegotiate the bargain and go with the plan?” she said as she yanked me through one of the open doorways and stopped.
The wallpaper in the room was tone-on-tone pink. Vertical stripes ran from floor to ceiling: light pink, dark pink, narrow, wide, narrow, narrow, narrow, wide. I could’ve made myself dizzy trying to count the stripes.
“Wow.” There wasn’t much else to say. Lacy pink curtains in the windows. Pink and white fluffy pillows at the head of the canopy bed.
“Are you happy?” She rounded on me, that glint in her eye again.
“This is your room?” I asked.
“Was.”
“But you grew up here, right?” I glanced at her for confirmation.
She nodded. “Pink, pink and more pink. I was the baby. Mom wanted to keep me that way. Still does, if you ask me.”
I tried to reconcile the frilly decorations with the sharp, spirited woman in front of me. I didn’t know her well, not really, but I could tell her childhood room was a poor reflection of her own personal tastes.
“Where did you hide the stuff you liked?” I scanned the room, looking for any sign of rebellion.
She jerked her head toward a door on the opposite wall. “Check out the closet.”
Of course. She’d have needed somewhere to express herself. I reached for the doorknob, but a voice in the hallway called out, “Trinity, time for dinner.”
“Maybe next time, huh?” Her hand closed around mine.
“One peek?” I asked.
“Your two minutes are up.” She shrugged.
“Well damn, that means we don’t have time.”
“For what?” Her brows furrowed.
