Page 42 of Fall With Me
“Dawson Reed, what kind of woman do you think I am?”
He smirks. “Are you sure you want me to answer that?”
“Your response says plenty.”
He shakes his head. “Au contraire, madame.”
“Fine.” I jut my chin out. “Tell me what you think of me.”
His intense gaze starts at the top of my head, darts back to the road, then scans the rest of my body. An appreciative smile grows bigger and bigger on his lips the longer he looks at me. There’s desire behind his stare.
Heat warms my cheeks. My face is probably as red as the leaves on the trees.Where is a cold compress when you need one?
“For the sake of our working relationship, I’ll pass.”
What!?“You can’t do that”—I circle a finger in his face—“then cop out. Come on, buddy, spit it out.”
He shakes his head, miming zipping his lips.
I shove his shoulder. “You’re the worst.”
Dawson’s brows rise, wrinkles forming across his forehead. “I’m worse than ski guy? Dang, 007. That’s harsh.”
Secretly, I love when he calls me 007. The way he says it fills my stomach with butterflies. “At least ski guy admitted he liked me, even if his actions were juvenile.”
“I like spending time with you.”
I feel the same way, but it isn’t quite the answer I’m hoping for. Why I’m pushing him to say he likes me is silly. Maybe I’m super desperate for a confidence boost after all the embarrassing things I’ve done around him. “Spending time with me and liking me are not the same.”
He shakes his head, smiling. “I’m not one hundred percent certain what you want me to say here. You try to cuddle with me while I’m sleeping, steal all my extra time, then coerce me into saying I like you? I feel like you’re playing me.”
His tone is teasing, and yet my stomach turns sour. “That’s not what I’m trying to do. I’m sorry. Can we forget I said anything?”
“Yeah.”
“For the record, I was trying to leave, not cuddle with you. Your blanket tripped me up.”
“I appreciate your commitment to stick with your story.”
I let out an incredulous laugh. “I don’t know what else to say to make you believe me.”
He grins. “You don’t need to say anything, 007.”
“Fine. I won’t.”
Chapter 20
Dawson
Chloe is my friend.
In the past twenty hours, I’ve concluded it’s a horribly lovely label. Lovely because my focus needs to be on Finn and work, and labeling her as a friend accomplishes that, but horrible because I can’t stop thinking about Chloe. She’s spunky yet easy going. She reminds me of a pumpkin spice cake roll. Boldness wrapped around a sweet center. There’s this magnetism about her that makes me feel seen and heard. Most of the things I’ve told her I’ve never admitted to anyone else.
I may not be too far off base in saying she’s a witch. She’s cast some sort of spill-my-guts spell or slipped me a secrets-emitting truth serum. I’m breathing in whatever she bewitched, and I can’t stop thinking about her and telling her all my private thoughts and feelings. Whatever it is, I need to find the antidote, and get the enchantress Chloe Crenshaw out of my mind.
She’s made no indication whatsoever that she likes me as more than anything but a co–festival planner, and I for sure as heck don’t have space in my life for women right now.
But I’m working with her for the next month.
