Page 18 of Damsel in Defense
He nods.
I extend my hand across the counter.“Deal?”
He clasps it.His palm is warm.Strong.Too strong.The kind of touch that makes my stomach dip in dangerous directions.
We shake once.Firm.No games.
But as his thumb brushes against mine before he lets go, I realize something terrible.
“Deal,” he says back.
Why does it feel like, even with these rules in place, I’m going to be tested?
CHAPTER SEVEN
MASON
She’s nervous.
I knew she would be, but I didn’t think I’d be able to feel her nerves before she even knocked on my door.Her energy is like static—tense and crackling from the hallway.
I open the door before she can raise her hand to knock.
“Victoria,” I say gently, stepping aside.“You look…”
“Like I’m about to go on my first fake date with my fake hockey player boyfriend in front of half the city?”she offers, eyes wide and a little crazed.She tugs at her T-shirt, oversized and slouchy over black leggings.Her hair is pulled into a loose ponytail, a few pieces falling out, giving her a very sultry “just woke up” look.
I grin.“Maybe cool it on broadcasting the fake part until you’re actually in the apartment, dork,” I tell her, reaching out and grabbing her arm.“And I was gonna say you look great.”
She lifts a skeptical brow.“You’re not allowed to flirt without an audience.It’s in the rules.”
“Not flirting,” I say as I close the door behind her.“Just stating a fact.”
“Right.”She rolls her eyes at the compliment, but the rose hue of her cheeks gives her away.“So where are we going, anyway?Am I dressed okay?”
“There’s a cute coffeeshop by the Lakeshore that I love.Thought we would head there, grab drinks, and then walk along the water.Simple and low-key.Just enough to be seen and pictured to get the ball rolling.”
“Easy and simple,” she repeats under her breath, like she’s trying to hype herself up.
I motion for her to give me one second as I dash back into the kitchen to grab my charging phone.Then, with sunglasses in hand, I open the door.When we’re in the elevator heading down, I hold out my hand, palm up toward Victoria.
Her gaze drops to it.“What are you doing?”
“Getting into character.”
She hesitates but then slips her hand into mine.I give it three quick squeezes.
She glances up at me, surprised.
“What was that?”
“Three squeezes,” I say as we walk to the elevator.“Means I’ve got you.Just in case you feel yourself slipping.”
Her lips press together, but she doesn’t pull away.Not even in the lobby when we get a few curious looks.
We keep it light on the walk to the coffee shop.I tease her about the boots she’s wearing—not remotely weather appropriate—and she tells me to shut up unless I want to go swimming in the lake.She’s a feisty little thing.I love seeing this side of her.
The whole way to the coffee shop, she’s smiling—I don’t think she’s clued in to that.For the first time, I’m seeing her with her guard down, getting the entire Victoria Westwyld picture.
