I remained stoic.
Her gaze narrowed. She began to undulate her eyebrows. Lifting and dropping one eyebrow and then the other, like fans joining the wave at a football match.
I had been doing so well until she raised her lip in a curl that Elvis would’ve been proud of.
“You know, a lot of people use humor as a defense mechanism when they feel uncomfortable,” I said coolly.
Her face leveled instantly.
I pushed, “If you can’t do this, we can try something else …”
Her features sharpened. “No talking.”
I should have challenged her from the get-go. If ever I needed Skip to do something, I simply appealed to his ego. Classic.
The air changed then. Her focus narrowed and her body stopped moving. We were having an entire conversation through our eye contact.
I told you, I could do this, she seemed to say.
I never doubted you for a second, I replied in my head. I think you’re wonderful.
You shouldn’t say that sort of thing.
There’s nothing you can do about what I think.
Then the imagined conversation stopped and we simply existed in this moment. Her eyes had much more depth in this full light. Her pupils were so small that her full iris was visible. The darker brown was ringed with a lighter brown. The varying shades were textured like the glass marbles I played with as a kid.
A gentle breeze moved her hair. It carried the scent of pine and her to me. It was such a peaceful sense. This was two people seeing each other without masks or filters. This was pure. This was what screens, filters, and social media took away. This was human connection at a base level. I’d never done this with anybody before. I had made other people do it, of course, and saw its success, but living it with Roxy was like nothing I’d ever felt.
The stillness left no room to hide. I couldn’t run or escape. Intrusive thoughts came poking at the edges of my mind. I tried to remain focused on Roxy, let her keep me from succumbing to them, but all of my feelings were on the brink of overflowing. The storm clouds of my mind blocked the sun and a chill ran over me. And for once I didn’t feel happy at all. I felt a deep sadness overtake me. Any minute the clouds would break open and drown me. It would pull me under so fast there would be no hope of catching my breath. This was exactly why I always kept moving. The second I stopped …
“Sanders,” Roxy said.
I blinked into the present. Brought my mind to the here and now. Roxy saved me a moment before it would have been too late.
“I think it’s been thirty seconds,” she said.
I glanced down at my watch. Three minutes had passed. “I forgot to set the alarm.” My voice came out hoarse.
“Did I make it?” she asked hopefully.
“Of course.” I forced a smile on my face.
“I knew I could do it,” she said.
“I never doubted you for a second,” I whispered.
Chapter 14
Roxy
There were few things I loved more than blowing expectations out of the water. So when Sanders didn’t think I could play his little staring game, I was set to prove him wrong. Of course, it was real weird at first. I’d been so worried that he’d be able to see the truth of me: my dark past and my growing feelings for him. I couldn’t look directly at him at the best of times because I couldn’t do it in glimpses. When I looked at him, I wanted to do it for hours.
At first, I couldn’t sit still. I felt like I might crawl out of my skin. It made no sense. It was just eye contact and yet it felt like I was being forced to tell him my darkest secrets. But once I decided to just do it, I let go of the internal monologue. I simply focused on the way the cold stone felt damp through my hiking pants—incidentally, way more comfortable than my suit pants. The wind tickling my bangs across my forehead. My breath, moving in and out of my body in sync with my heartbeat.
I focused on Sanders. The bright, unclouded sky should blush in shame compared to the blue of his eyes. His face and mouth were relaxed so just the corner of one front tooth was visible. It was hard not to imagine leaning forward to close the distance between us and pressing a soft kiss on those lips. I couldn’t forget the taste of him and I thought for sure all those thoughts were playing like a movie in my eyes. But then, something about seeing him so serious in the task pushed me to take it seriously.
Time stretched and I forgot all about being self-conscious. I wasn’t sure what it proved but it definitely meant something.
I stood up and stretched, feeling more than a little pleased with myself. “What’s next? Since I obviously nailed that.”
He was slower to stand up. “You did great, Roxxo.” His smile was in place but it seemed sad almost, which was an emotion foreign on his face.
My arms dropped. He looked anywhere but at me.
“Maybe we should head back? That was a lot for one day,” he said. His voice was so casual. He would have fooled anyone else but I knew something was wrong.
“No.” I crossed my arms.
“No?”
“You dragged me all the way out here. Forced me to look at your stupid pretty face. I’m not going back yet.”
“Wait, wait.” He shook his head. “Stupid pretty? Or stupid and pretty?”
“Sanders.” I glared at him.
“I just don’t have anything else planned.” He scratched at the back of his head and looked at the trail leading back into the trees.
“You didn’t even have this planned,” I said.
“Fine. We can stay and try something else. But only because you’re stupid pretty too.”
“You can’t say stuff like that.” But there was no heat in my words. I was getting used to his bold flirting. He was like being around a plate of cookies when starving. How was I supposed to not sneak a little sugar where I could get it?
Sanders pulled out a battle-weary Nalgene water bottle covered in stickers from places like the Grand Teton National Park and the Great Wall of China. He took his time unscrewing the cap. After a few deep drinks, he smacked his lips with an “ah, better,” then carefully spun the cap back on. Everything took an eternity.
“Are you stalling?” I asked.
“Not at all,” he said giving me a look like I was crazy. Then he pulled out an apple and started polishing it on his pants. “Hungry?”
I blinked at him. “Nope.”
He took a huge bite and chewed thoughtfully.
“Sanders.” I shifted from foot to foot. “You are stalling.”
“Not at all.” He took another huge bite. The apple was already mostly gone.
“We’ve been gone a half hour.” I glared.
“Can never be too careful. Low blood sugar is dangerous,” he said through a cheekful of food.
Watching him eat was hypnotic. His jaw worked like a sleek machine. Like everything he did, his movements were so relaxed yet purposeful. His throat moved as he swallowed and it was impossible to not fantasize about biting him there and then, soothing it with a soft kiss.
I moved away and circled the small overlook. That was weird. Don’t be weird, Roxy.
The apple core went whizzing through the air and into the valley below us.
“Okay,” he said, wiping his hands on his pants. “This one is called, two truths and a lie.”
I shot him a look. “I’m familiar.”
“No holding back. Honesty.”
In Denver we hadn’t had a chance to really explore each other because we kept the details out. So what would happen this time if we pushed each other too far?
“You’re going down, Colonel,” I said.
He squinted at me.
“Colonel Sanders?” I clarified.
When my joke hit, he laughed. “It’s not a competition,” he said.
“Totally,” I said instantly. “But if it were, I’d definitely wipe the floor with you.”
“Adorable,” he muttered. “Okay, you can go first. Sit down. Your pacing is making me twitchy
.”
“I’m making you twitchy?” I asked. “That’s rich.”
“Sit,” he commanded.
With anybody else, being told to do something typically made me long to do the exact opposite. But when he told me what to do, a tiny shiver ran down my spine.
“Yes, sir,” I said in a husky voice.
His pupils darkened and his nostrils flared. Those light blue eyes transformed into something more intense and I knew in that moment exactly what his eyes would look like when they looked up at me from between my thighs.
We sat back down in the same positions as a few minutes ago.
With no warning, I brought my hands up to cover the upper half of my face. I said, “I’m afraid to fly. My eyes are brown—”
“I’m going to stop you right there,” he said.
“Cheater.” I dropped my hand to point at him.
“You’re the one who’s cheating,” he said. “It’s two truths and a lie. And no covering your face, come on.”
“You didn’t let me finish.”
“But you’ve already lied twice. You weren’t worried at all about flying that night in Denver and your eyes are not brown,” he said.
“Are you kidding me? You just stared into them.” I threw out my arms. So much for him paying attention.
“Exactly. So I’m an expert. They aren’t brown. Maybe in a poorly lit room a buffoon would classify them simply as brown. But in this light, they’re a rich mahogany. Like a really expensive acoustic guitar that’s been buffed to gleam. There’s depth and texture. The edges have lighter flecks, more like an oak. But brown is weak. Brown is saying that the Mona Lisa is just a painting.” He shook his head like he was disappointed in me.
“Oh,” I said.
My eyes blinked rapidly, not sure where to look. I’d never been so aware of them. Was that true? Was it possible that he found that much depth there? My mouth closed when I realized it’d been hanging open. I swallowed, feeling completely flustered. How was I ever supposed to stay on track when he said things like that? He was so open and earnest. I told myself to clamp down the rush of adrenaline those words caused in me. Sanders talked like this to everyone. I was nothing special.
Eventually, I cleared my throat and said, “Stop trying to sidetrack me. You go, then.”
With no preamble, he said, “I have two younger brothers. I’m lactose intolerant. Carrots give me the hiccups.”
“You don’t have any siblings,” I said instantly. I wasn’t sure how I knew, but I just knew. Maybe because he had only-child swagger.
“Dang. Yep.” He frowned. Well, frowned for him, which meant he was still smiling but his eyebrows sort of turned down at the sides. It was confusing but made sense to me. “Your turn,” he said.
“I can wiggle my left ear. I can also roll my tongue. My brother is three years younger.” My face was completely blank. I’m sure I was the textbook example of RBF.
“Your brother is older,” he said instantly.
I gaped at him. “Shit.”
“Tried to throw me off, did you? Let me see your tongue roll.”
I glared at him but then showed that not only could I roll my tongue, I could also sort of fold it in half and pinch it.
“Hot,” he said.
I laughed. “You can’t say that.” I tossed a pebble at him. “Your turn. We’re tied.”
“Not a comp—”
“Yeah, yeah. Let’s go.” I rubbed my hands together.
He took a breath. “You’re sick. I’m never playing Monopoly with you and Skip. It would destroy us.”
“Stalling.”
“I’ve only moved twice. I’ve broken three bones. I have a butterfly tattoo.”
“No broken bones,” I said.
This time his mouth dropped open. “How?” he asked seriously.
I threw my head back and laughed. “Oh my God. You have to show me that tattoo.”
“What!” He stood up. “No way. There’s no way you could have known about that.”
“Show me this tattoo,” I said threateningly.
I had no idea how I knew. Just like I had no idea how he knew so much about me. But I had to see that damn tattoo.
“No.” He crossed his arms looking genuinely upset that he lost that round. I had spotted the hidden ace up his sleeve.
“Show. Me.” I glared my most threateningly.
He reeled back with a grimace. “I’m going to regret this.” He turned to put his back to me and started to unbutton his pants.
“No.” I covered my mouth unable to contain my giddy excitement.
He lowered his pants just enough to show a tiny black tattoo at the base of his spine.
“It’s a butterfly.” I couldn’t stop the laughter. I couldn’t care less that I sounded like a crazed hyena. “You have a tramp stamp!” I had tears falling from my eyes I was laughing so hard.
He turned back to me and buttoned his pants. “I’ll have you know that this was done by one of the best artists in Denver. This beaut set me back a few hundo.”
In his defense, from what I was able to see, it was a beautiful tattoo. Black in a contemporary style with fine line work and clearly handled by a talented artist. I wanted more time to look at it but I couldn’t exactly ask him to let me stare at his ass.
Or could I? No, be a professional.
“How? Why? I must know everything.” I sat up and wiped the residual tears from my eyes.
“No,” he said haughtily. “You haven’t earned that story yet. Let’s move on.”
“Better than an ex’s name, I guess,” I said sobering.
“I would never do that. Everybody knows it’s bad luck. Plus, I’ve never loved anybody near enough for that sort of commitment.”
“Dark,” I said. I wanted to ask more but wasn’t about to delve into my past in exchange. Had that been a little skull hidden in the pattern of the wings?
“Your turn, Roxxo,” he said, interrupting my thoughts. “That’s it. No more Mr. Nice Guy. I’m out for blood now.”
“I thought it wasn’t a competition,” I said. He growled and I chewed on my lip to think. “I was proposed to by the guy who married Sienna Diaz. My parents forgot me so many times after school the bus route added a special stop just for me. I had two dogs growing up, Rex One and Rex Two.”
This time his answer wasn’t immediate but his eyes wrinkled a bit at the side. Suddenly, I feared I gave too much away. I fussed with some gravel at my feet as he sat back down in front of me.
“No dogs?”
“No dogs.” I shrugged. “Always wanted one though.” He looked like he was about to ask another question, so I quickly added, “I’m still winning.”
“Chris Hemsworth and I were born on the same day. I’ve never seen Star Wars. I’m an orphan.”
“Star Wars,” I said somberly.
“I may have a tramp stamp but I’m still a man.”
I smiled softly at him. “I’m sorry about your parents.”
He went very still. “Mom died when I was ten.”
My heart absolutely ached for him. “I’m sorry.”
“Thank you,” he said and slid a smile in place. Always with the smile.
“Did your dad raise you?”
“Yeah. Dad’s American from Colorado. After she died, he brought me back here to be closer to his family. Also, I think, to get away from all the memories.”
I nodded. “I can understand that. Your dad?”
A shadow moved over his face. “Early-onset Alzheimer’s.”
“Was that hard? He must have been young, if you’re only thirty-four,” I asked. Suddenly I was desperate to understand more. I guess I’d assumed someone so happy must have lived a charmed life.
He scratched at his chin where there was a hint of a dark blond five-o’clock shadow. “So you were paying attention. Chris and I were twins separated at birth. I don’t have any proof outside my stellar good looks.”
“You certainly don’t lack for confidence,” I mut
tered.
He was avoiding the subject. I may have RBF but he hid with smiles and silly charm.
“Ah, don’t make that face,” he said. “I’m fine. I promise. I shouldn’t have mentioned it. It’s a downer.”
“You don’t have to …” I said but I wasn’t sure how to finish. But really what I was thinking was that it was fucking tragic. I was about to ask if he was really okay but he stood again and brushed his pants off.
“Actually, we should probably head back,” he said.
“Okay.” This time I didn’t argue. I felt … drained. And sad. I wanted to be alone too.
We packed up in silence but it didn’t take long. I wished there was more to pack. I was ready to be alone but I also wanted him to talk more. It wasn’t just his alluring accent either. This was a side of Sanders I hadn’t seen and it intrigued me.
“Sienna Diaz, huh?” he said a few minutes later.
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah. It’s a long story.”
He nodded when I shut that line down. I was so not ready to talk about Jethro Winston.
“Why did your parents forget to pick you up?” he asked.
I froze. I had thought we’d skated past that accidental overshare.
“Geez, asking all the easy ones. They’re just a little flighty,” I quickly added. “Ya know what’s weird?”
He held my focus for a beat before sighing. “What?”
“I’ve never lost that game before. I mean I still didn’t lose. But I’ve never been so close,” I said as we began to walk back.
“It is really weird.” He studied the ground carefully as he stepped. More carefully than the trail required. “I’ve been playing this game with people for years and never seen this sort of success rate. I thought I had perfected lying.”
“Not to sound like a psycho …” I said.
“Hmm,” he said. His gaze was distant.
“I always win this game. No matter how many shots of tequila I drank, I always won against any Wraith.”
“Wraith?”
“The Iron Wraiths. Just a club I used to hang around.”
“What kind of club? Like that one with Gretchen? The book club.”
“No. Not like that.” I doubted most of the Wraiths could even read. “They’re bad news. I don’t think about them anymore.”
The One That I Want (Scorned Women Society Book 3) Page 12
