Double Dare

by Melissa Whittle

  “Fourth rule: You can’t point out the lie unless the person wants to finally see it.”

  “No good.”

  She looked at him with baffled amazement and then chuckled. “Why?”

  “How are you doing?”

  Confusion knitted her brows, but she answered, “Fine.”

  “Universally accepted lie.”

  “It’s a throw away question.” She spread her hands out in dismay. “You really don’t want to know. It’s one of those things you ask.”

  “So pithy of an exchange it might as well be minuscule talk. Why have it with someone you want to know or do know?”

  “You have something against ‘tell me about yourself,’ too?”

  “With you, yes. What’s wrong with ‘I’m doing wonderful’ or ‘I’ve had better days.’ Or,” he smiled, “‘I’ll be fine once you kiss me.’”

  The comment made her look at his lips as he anticipated. He returned the favor and took in his fill of her. Plump, succulent and he knew her taste. The same raw yearning filled him again.

  “The latter is your former conceit showing.” After the last word, she licked her lips, moistening them so that they gleamed and begged to be kissed.

  “Former?” He stiffened to keep from leaning forward and giving her lips what they wanted. “What I want only became less important.”

  Breathless and seeming to be lost in his gaze, she said, “What is it you want?”

  Chapter Twelve

  “To taste your bottom lip.” Tobias watched her teeth sink into said bottom lip. “We don’t lie anymore, remember?”

  “Stop looking at my mouth like that.” She lifted his chin with her hand until they were eye to eye. He caught her wrist and she sucked in a breath.

  “Actions can be considered expressly given permission.” He opened his hand and placed his lips on her wrist. Her heartbeat thumped rapidly against her silky skin. He let her go.

  Emmaline hesitated, but placed the arm onto her stomach. “That’s a sub-paragraph to a simple rule.”

  “These rules go both ways or no good. You felt we needed them. Have you changed your mind?” he asked, though Tobias was already thinking of loopholes.

  “You’re thinking of loopholes,” she accused.

  The observation caught him off guard, and he laughed. “I am, Mallow.”

  “These rules are just to appease me, right?” She sighed. “But I like the idea that I can ask you any question and get the truth.”

  “What will you do with such power?”

  He wanted to know, especially from the way she’d finally relaxed. It showed in the languid way she rested on her back against the blanket, jutting out the delicious curves of her body. And, Lord help him, she wiggled her toes absently in the most adorable way. This was the Emmaline he’d asked out for a date. Sexy and sweet.

  She said, “If you knew we weren’t compatible, why’d you ask me out on a date?”

  “I’ll ask you the same.”

  He didn’t think she would answer, but finally she did. “I wanted something that wouldn’t dash my hopes if it didn’t work out.”

  “A surefire fail.”

  She winced. “That sounds horrible and shallow out loud.”

  “It does.”

  She cut a look his way, paused and then nodded. “I don’t know how to be friends with a man. Associates, yes, but as a friend, no. I’ve got two best friends. I’m covered.”

  He thought about that and then said, “What were the men in your life before?”

  “Additions…to my already full life.”

  “What would a man be now to you, if you found the one?”

  She took in a breath, and then let it out. “He still wouldn’t be my whole world. That’s a lot of responsibility for one person to have. And, it’s a little creepy.” She lowered her voice. “You’re my whole world!”

  She sounded like a straight up stalker or rabid fan of a celebrity. He lifted his brows. “That does speak of shrines and a scrap of his shirt tied around a black candle.”

  She snorted. “A part of my life. I’m choosing to live mine with him. There’s a necessary and welcome intermingling in that thought. An add on or addition sounds like something you can detach when you feel like it. He couldn’t be my world. If he ever left, my world would collapse to nothing. Been there, done that.”

  The last sentence brought Emmaline into better focus. He did wonder what made her world collapse, but if she wanted him to know, she’d have told him. Then again he didn’t want to bring up Gabriella. Not now. Not yet.

  “Lie,” he said and shook off the thoughts. “I bet you’re waiting for Prince Charming to come along and save you from your doldrum life.”

  “It’s not bad to want a certain type of man.” She lifted her chin, but her position dimmed the effect of disdain.

  “Nothing wrong with wanting,” he agreed. “Something wrong with turning away a real man for an ideal.”

  “How can you know it’s only an ideal if you go off with the first person who shows interest?”

  He put up his hand, showing her his five fingers. “Fifth rule: We’ll take what we get out of this friendship. Don’t create an ideal Tobias and expect me to live up to him, and when I don’t, get pissed at me for not being the exact fantasy.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with having high expectations,” she grumbled.

  “Define high? No one, not even you, could live up to the expectations?”

  “After a long day I would rub my own feet. That’s not a lot to ask for from your significant other. Don’t ask someone to do for you something you wouldn’t do for yourself.”

  He shook his head, amused. “I’m mean, whatever you ask of him, would you return the favor? Like rubbing his feet.”

  “Fair is fair.” Her eyes went shifty as she said it.

  The laugh erupted from deep within and he couldn’t hold it back. “Lie.”

  “Ok. I’ll take that off my mental list, because I’ll have to see his feet first before I commit to that one.” She pursed her lips. “And a couple of other things, now that I think about it.”

  The laugh still rumbled through him. “What’s left on the list of requirements?”

  “We’re not that good of friends yet. If we’ll ever be that close.”

  “Ah.” He wondered what would be on her list, but stopped because she’d shifted onto her side and they were now face to face on the blanket. “Do you think that’s safe?”

  “Why wouldn’t it be?”

  “Woman.” He pushed down the attraction. Not yet. Not with them like this, but the raw urge to make this moment more only grew. “You’re impervious to danger.”

  “Remember,” the smile was slow and knowing, “I’ve already deemed you safe ground.”

  A lie she didn’t know was a lie, because he kept inching forward as she talked until a good strong breeze would have knocked them together. When she realized the truth of it, her teeth sank into her plump bottom lip. Tobias held her gaze and telegraphed as best he could all the things he wanted to do with that bottom lip. Her pupils dilated a moment before she leaned forward. He eased back. She blinked, and then shook her head as if coming out a daze.

  “Too bad about rule number one,” he said.

  “We need to add sarcasm to rule four. It’s another form of lying. Could you survive twenty-four hours without it?” She tutted playfully.

  There, that’s more, he thought, but said, “I couldn’t survive an hour, but these rules are only between us. I don’t expect you to answer every customer question honestly. Bad for business.”

  “Can you imagine it, though?” she asked. He could and it made him want to smile. She let out a frustrated sigh. “I could see it.” She pointed to, but didn’t touch, the left corner of his mouth. “One second there and the next gone like I imagined it. What is it you have against smiling?”

  He plastered one on his face and mentally counted to ten. Without breaking the smile, he asked, “Creepy yet?
”

  Her shoulders shook from a quiet laugh as she placed a hand over his mouth. “God, yes.”

  He wrapped his free hand around her wrist again. Once again she broke her own rule.

  “The first time I let you off easy.” He felt the skip of her heart and then it ratcheted up beneath his fingertips. Tobias’ heart sped up too, knowing his effect on her. “Makes me think you wanted to break the rule.”

  “I underestimated the power of touch and how creepy non-stop smiling could be.”

  She didn’t tug free, so he placed a kiss between her wrist and palm. The scent of vanilla wrapped around him, and then the flavor filled his mouth like the sweetest ambrosia. He wiped the kiss away with his thumb and lightly scraped his teeth on the same spot. He did it again just to hear her small catch of breath. Her gaze was on him, and probably ensnared by the sensation from the way she moaned deep in her throat. He took it as encouragement and moved to her fingertips and he blazed a trail of nips and kisses all the way up to her neck. The steady thump of her heartbeat under his lips matched his own. He brought his face up to hers, but didn’t kiss her.

  “Does this mean we don’t get to see other people?” he asked.

  Her lids low from arousal. “No.”

  “What?” he asked.

  “We didn’t kiss.”

  His gaze went to her mouth that currently held a smirk. “Ah, so you’ve let Sasha and Abigail do what I just did?”

  She pursed her lips. “The rules aren’t officially in effect until midnight.”

  He tsked. “Should have specified a time, huh? I’ll give you that one.”

  And then he drank in another taste of Emmaline, this time on her mouth. Ripe and succulent. Everything that a man would banish himself out of Eden for. There was no way he could ever get his fill.

  With great restraint, he pulled back and said, “Since I didn’t need expressly given permission.”

  He settled into his space, but looked up. Night was stealthy moving across the sky, making the temperature drop under the shaded tree. Despite the quiet and the calm, he couldn’t wrestle back the images crowding his brain. For the first time in a year he didn’t want to live in the darkness. He didn’t want the grief to drag him undertow. Their first date he had let it. Now…he didn’t want it.

  “Anymore rules before I take you home?” He held on to now for a little bit longer.

  She tensed as their eyes met in the fading light. “The humor’s gone,” she murmured, frowning.

  “It’s getting dark,” he said absently.

  “Ok,” Emma whispered as though she understood.

  That wasn’t possible. How could she know grief like this and still be so light? But, she packed up the picnic without saying another word. The drive back to her house was just as quiet. He didn’t remember much of it, anyway.

  Thankfully, the waking nightmare didn’t take over until he was home, in his room on the new king-sized bed. Even not having to fight the memories of her in this bed, he couldn’t stop the images of Gabriella battering through the wall he put up for the date with Emmaline. He was going to have to say goodbye, for good. Tobias could feel the truth of that. It should have felt like a betrayal, but Brie would have hit him upside the head for even thinking it. She would have wanted him happy. Didn’t make it any easier.

  So, for the rest of the day he lived in the grief, her blood and the darkness. And it felt like the first part of goodbye.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Sasha and Abigail lounged outside the bakery. The morning light hadn’t yet crept over the buildings. Sasha’s roots, the hue of chestnuts, peeked out. The plain shade gave her skin a dull pallor, or maybe it was the dark circles under her eyes. Was she sleeping? Emma couldn’t ask. Health questions would put Abigail on alert.

  Emma pushed down the worry until she could get Sasha alone. In a breezy tone, she said, “Three mornings in a week. Must be a record.”

  “I didn’t have to drag her out of the house either,” Abigail said.

  Her friend’s pained expression made Emma laugh to herself. She wondered how long Abigail could hold out before trying to figure out every last detail of the date. They made it through the front of the store to the kitchen, but by the time Emma began pulling out various ingredients on the kitchen’s island, her friend was ready to explode.

  “So?” Abigail asked.

  Emma put the knife to the side of the bowl now filled with the beginnings of croissants. “He’s still waters all right. I think there is something going on with him, but I can’t quite put my finger on what.”

  Abigail’s shoulders deflated, and she finally sat on the other bar stool. Sasha had her elbows on the wood surface, quiet, but strain thinned her lips.

  “I really thought he had a chance,” Sasha said. “How’d he take it?”

  Emma frowned, but spread flour over her end of the island. “Take what?”

  “The we’ll-just-date-and-see-where-it-goes speech.”

  “There wasn’t a need for a speech. He called me fluff, told me that I wasn’t his type. I told him dour and serious wasn’t mine. We came to an understanding.” Did they? Because that kiss didn’t feel like an understanding. “I think.”

  Sasha laughed and it lifted the heavy air around her. “I’m really starting to like this Tobias.”

  Emma scoffed. “He called me fluff. How can you like a guy who insulted me?”

  “Well…” Sasha winced. “You were in date mode before you left. It can be off-putting.”

  Emma stilled. “Being polite is off-putting?”

  “Sasha’s right,” Abigail said. “If you acted like Emma on the first date and then went in on date mode the second time around, I’m sure he was wondering who gave you a lobotomy.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with my date mode.” She continued to knead the dough on the lightly floured surface. “It’s charming, flirtatious and appropriate.”

  “But it’s not the real you,” Sasha said and then looked around. “Can you at least feed us?”

  “Can you think of something other than your stomach?” Abigail sighed, got up and opened the refrigerator behind Emma.

  “You can heat up the biscuits. Lowest rung.” She frowned at the dough and asked, “What you’re saying is my real self isn’t charming, flirtatious and appropriate?”

  “You’re everything but the last part.” Sasha watched Abigail’s movements, and the pallor receded from her face. “You’ve been around us too long to fit into normal society.”

  Emma’s frown deepened, but she began to cut the dough in diagonals. “We’re not interested in each other that way, anyway. We decided.”

  “Did he try to make a move?” Abigail stood at the counter that hid the microwave. It was inside what looked to be a bread pantry.

  “That just means he wants to have sex,” Emma said.

  “Maybe.” Sasha’s eyes alighted as Abigail moved to her with the warmed biscuits. She pilfered two. “Or maybe he just saw straight through your act. Did he make another date?”

  Emma shook her head. “He acted really strange when he dropped me off.”

  He seemed to be in two worlds: the one in his mind and the one with her in it. The latter had the strongest pull. She could tell he was on autopilot while walking her up to the door. Disappointment darkened the doorstep further when he didn’t try for another kiss. He left her staring, gobsmacked, at his retreating back. He hadn’t turned around either, but got into his car and drove off. There wasn’t a phone call in the morning calling her Mallow or Emmaline in a voice filled with laughter that he so rarely let out.

  “And that’s the sound of a death knell.” Abigail would have donged, Emma was sure, but the biscuit filled her friend’s mouth.

  “It’s not.” Both of her friends went stiff at the announcement. “What?”

  “If—” Abigail said and Sasha interjected, “When.” They both looked at each other and nodded in agreement.

  Abigail said, “When he asks you on ano
ther date, will you go?”

  “We both decided we aren’t each other’s type, but we enjoy the banter. So, yes, I’ll go if he offers, but I don’t think he will. Why would a man like him want to spend time with someone he thinks is fluff?”

  “You keep harping on that. You’re not fluff. You’re…” Abigail pursed her lips, narrowed her eyes looking for the right word.

  “Unencumbered,” Sasha finished for Abigail.

  Emma pointed at Sasha, finger covered in dough. “That’s what I said. I’m unencumbered.”

  “But,” Abigail said, “there’s not a saying for unencumbered or fluffy waters running deep and sweetheart you run deep. It doesn’t show, but it’s there.”

  No one said why and that was out of respect. “He said I didn’t know who I was—like I don’t. How high-handed of him, don’t you think?”

  She buttered the dough. A few more times and the croissants would be ready. She stopped when she noticed the sudden quiet in the kitchen. Both women were looking at each other and having one of the silent conversations that always irked Emma.

  “For the peanut gallery, please.” Emma effortlessly placed the croissants on a baking sheet covered with the semi-sheer pastry paper.

  “What skeleton did you see when you peeked into the closet?” Abigail had turned away from Sasha and directed the question to Emma.

  “Didn’t see anything and not because nothing is there.” Something else replaced the humor in his eyes right before the date ended. “It’s an abyss.”

  Emma shivered. How could he walk around with what she’d glimpsed? She assumed it took a tough person to work as a homicide detective. How could you not get jaded by mankind when you saw its handy work?

  She assumed his former job took its toll, but there was something so deep and dark in that…emotion, for lack of a better word, it rocked her. The lack of smiles and laughter made sense, made it seem like those catches of unadulterated happiness poignant. Made her downright warm and not because he opened up around her. Emma didn’t care who made him laugh or smile, she just wanted to be nearby when it happened.