Page 177 of Soul Mates: Hercules Valentine and I
Am I crazy? What am I doing?
My smile is pasted on like I’m a Stepford wife inviting a neighbor over for poisonous apple pie. I think I’ve lost all of my marbles for calling him and suggesting we get together today.And oh my God, my rambling.I’m surprised he said yes when I suggested we plan the party today—not even an hour after we saw each other in the park.
When I arrived home after my run, I slammed the door behind me, furious. I’ve never been that mad. And I was hurt, so hurt. To my surprise, I was jealous. Rain Mueller is a lot prettier in real life.
Thankfully, I hadn’t cancelled my date with Ronald Ashton. Maybe my parents have a point. Maybe I should take Ronald Ashton serious. I mean, he might not run a multibillion-dollar corporation, but he has several medals of honor for being an exemplary physicist.I’m still fake smiling.
Hercules seems distracted by my décor. I can see by the way he shakes his head with the corners of his mouth pulled down slightly that he’s appraising my design tastes.
“So, what do you think?” I ask, momentarily forgetting that I’m mad at him.
He continues nodding. “Nice. You have good taste.”
My new smile is for real. “Thanks. Lake and I spent a week shopping our butts off.” I examine my living room and dining area. “We determined that my style is more contemporary farmhouse, and hers is comfy Pacific Northwest.”
He hasn’t taken his eyes off the off-white U-shaped sectional. It just occurred to me that it looks a lot like his.Dang it. But my coffee table is made of bamboo and sits on a black-and-white abstract rug. His coffee table is made of glass to match his black stone end tables, and… I close my eyes to absorb what I’m remembering. His coffee table rests on a red-and-white abstract rug with a pattern that looks a lot like mine.
When I turn to Hercules, he’s smiling. I’m not going to state the obvious—that I had him in mind while shopping. I wonder if he’ll mention it.
We continue staring at each other. He smells like heaven. My lung fills to brim with air each time I inhale. It feels like we should kiss. To stop myself from mauling his lips, I take two steps away from him.
“Come. Have a seat,” I say.
After hesitating, Hercules follows me to the sofa and sits down. “You don’t have a doorman.”
I grunt thoughtfully as I flop down on the end of the chaise portion of my sofa, far away from him.
With furrowed eyebrows, he asks, “Why the grunt?”
“My parents brought up the same issue last night.” When his eyebrows shoot up, I say, “I had dinner with them. Something tells me they want me to live in their penthouse.”
Hercules jerks his head back. “They want you to live with them?”
I shrug. “I don’t think living with them is the goal. They’re rarely at the penthouse. I think they have the same concerns you have, but I have a great security system. My doors are thick, made of steel.”
“It’s still not safe. I think you should…” His eyes smolder as his gaze laps me face.
I wait for him to finish whatever he was going to say. Suddenly, he shifts abruptly to sit on the edge of the sofa. Then Hercules stretches his neck from side to side. He’s nervous. He should be. I should be. A conversation about his fiancée isn’t on the horizon. Instead, it’s on our doorstep.
“About earlier,” he says.
Here we go.“Listen,” I stay. “I understand that we—”
He holds up a hand. “Let me finish. Please.”
I nod and whisper, “Okay.”
“Her name is Rain, and she caught up to me at the end of my run. I had no intentions of seeing her today. And I’m not planning to marry her.”
“But you are engaged to her, aren’t you?”
He shifts abruptly again. “On paper.”
“An engagement written on paper?”
“Yes,” he says with a sharp nod.
“No way?” I’m shocked, and frankly, I’m not sure I understand him correctly. “You signed a contract?”
