Page 62 of Perfectly Complicated
“I—” I forget how to form words looking at the sight before me. I clear my throat, try again. “Turns out, I’m not into Farkle.”
His mouth twitches like he knows exactly what he’s doing to me, sitting there all casual with my daughter, having transformed my house into a Christmas wonderland like it’s no big deal.
“How was she?” I ask quickly, nodding toward Aria. Anything to stop my heart from doing that distracting fluttering thing.
“Absolute perfection.” He strokes Aria’s back lightly. “Fell asleep early because we played hard. I’m sorry you missed it, but she seems to like the lights. Kept fighting sleep to watch them.”
This moment can’t possibly be happening. Rourke cradling my daughter under the glow of white lights and Christmas music.
I shake my head, marveling at the scene in front of me. “It’s beautiful,” I murmur. “You did all this while I was gone?”
“Had to do something useful with my hands.” The edge in his tone tells me there’s a reason he needed the distraction. “How was your date with Peterson?”
The question sucks all the oxygen from the room.
“It was nice,” I answer, then catch myself. I shake my head. “Actually,no. It wasn’t nice. It was incredibly dull, like so painful I wanted to poke my eyes out with a plastic fork. We played Farkle the entire time, Rourke.Farkle.I actually found myself wishing we could watch hockey.”
“Those are words I never thought I’d hear you say.” His lips curl. “Is that why you left him on the porch with a ‘Thanks for the Farkle’?”
“You heard that?” I ask, the heat rising on my neck. “He was going to kiss me, and I panicked.”
His eyes grow dark. “Did he?”
“No,” I say quietly. “I slammed the door before he could try.”
He nods and presses his lips together. “That bad, huh?”
“Peterson’s a nice guy. But there’s nothing there. Not even a spark.”
He raises a brow. “No chemistry, huh? Howunfortunate.”
I shoot him a look. “Don’t act like you’re surprised.”
He bites back a grin. “Oh, I’m crushed for you. Absolutely heartbroken Peterson didn’t work out.” Then he tilts his head, his voice dropping low. “But if chemistry is what you’re after, Bennett—you’re barking up the wrong Christmas tree.”
I swallow, then glance away before he can read too much on my face. “You made sure of that, didn’t you?”
He shrugs. “At least Peterson got my message loud and clear. I wasn’t happy about him taking you out. Or touching you.”
“Rourke, you can’t act that way to every man who comes to the door.”
“I know.” His mouth twists. “I’m sorry I acted like a jerk. I just…” He’s quiet for a moment, staring down at my sleeping daughter. “My dad used to yell a lot at my mom, even throw things. And sometimes when I see a single mom, that protective instinct just kicks in.”
My annoyance fades. This wasn’t about Peterson—it was about the walls Rourke’s had to build to protect himself.
“Rourke, I’m not like your mom. Nick didn’t hurt me…not physically.”
“No, but he hurt you just as bad in other ways.” His mouth tightens. “I can’t stand the thought of anyone hurting you like that.”
“David would never hurt me. And I don’t like him like that.”
“I know that now,” he says quietly. “But all night, the only thing I could think about was some guy not treating you the way you deserved.”
I can barely get the words out as I stand in front of him. “And how do I deserve to be treated?”
His gaze holds mine. “Like you’re somebody’s forever. Their whole entire world.”
My heart stumbles, and suddenly I notice the faint sound of Bing Crosby crooning in the background. I swallow, the tension in my chest growing. “You’re playing Christmas music.”
