Chapter 23
Chapter
Twenty-Three
“You ran away,” Donovan says, before I have a chance to reply. “Twice.”
Are we really going to do this here, in front of all of Sapphire Springs? “This isn’t the time,” I hiss at him, slipping the paper with the symbol into my purse. “I’m here with Charlotte and her daughters. And, you know, people have cameras. ” I gesture at Mrs. Fontaine, who’s stopped shelving books and is staring at us, not even bothering to pretend otherwise. Across the lawn, Mrs. Grant’s frozen mid-burger-flip.
“I don’t care about the cameras. I care about what spooked you so badly that you ran out without a word after the hottest ten minutes of my life.” He bites his lip. “Did I do something wrong, Rune? Was that why you ran away?”
The anxiety in his voice nearly undoes me. “Technically speaking, I said several words,” I hedge, uncomfortably aware of the fact that we’re drawing attention. Charlotte’s stopped trying to untangle Sophie’s arms from around the bulldog’s neck, and Jenny’s eyeing us with unmistakable disapproval—which, given that the two of them aren’t dating, I just don’t get.
“Ah, yes. I don’t want you to stop, but we have to. What could be clearer than that?” His jaw is set, his tone icy. But even on short acquaintance, I know him well enough to recognize the hurt that runs beneath it. More than anything, I want to fix it. But I can’t. For his own good—and mine—I have to push him away.
“Not everything is black and white, Donovan,” I snap.
The blue of his eyes deepens. I swear, I could spend all day looking into them, watching how they shift color in the light. “No?” he says, taking a step closer. “Well then, enlighten me.”
Part of me wants to retreat. The rest wants to drag him into the bushes and have my way with him. I settle for grabbing his hand and pulling him through the crowd, doing my best to ignore the warmth of his fingers as they twine with mine and the electricity that surges through me at his touch. He doesn’t say a word or ask questions as I tug him along, over a small footbridge, guiding us at last into the gazebo that sits at the edge of the park’s lake. Mercifully empty, accessible only by the footbridge and a narrow path, the gazebo’s about as private as we’re going to get, unless one of the Sinsters is using a telephoto lens.
Donovan stands there, hands shoved into his pockets. “Well?”
“You didn’t do anything wrong.” I sigh, toying with the hem of my shirt.
“Then what? I don’t understand.”
With him right next to me, radiating that delectable cedar-and-vanilla scent, I’m hard pressed to remember why being with him is so wrong, much less to believe that he could be the one behind Ella’s predictions. “We work together, Donovan,” I manage. “It’s not professional.”
“I told you, I read the manual,” he says stubbornly. “I’m not your supervisor, and you’re not mine. There’s no power differential. It’s not a problem.”
“That’s what it says on paper! But what if Ethan had checked in on us two minutes earlier?”
He quirks a dark brow at me. “Then we would’ve given him quite a show.”
Heat rushes through me at the thought of what the two of us must have looked like, my legs wrapped around Donovan’s hips and my hands knotted in his hair, his mouth devouring mine. “That isn’t funny! We could have both lost our jobs.”
“On what grounds? It was 10:00 p.m. We had every reason to believe we were alone in the building.”
I fight the urge to strangle him. “Not everything is about the official rules, Donovan. Some things are about optics. If Ethan had seen…if we…”
My voice trails off, and Donovan’s gaze heats, dropping to my mouth. “You’re thinking about it too, I can tell.”
“I’m not!”
“Sure you are. And I don’t blame you. I haven’t thought about anything else since last night. And believe me, I’ve tried.” His voice lowers. “God, Rune, why do you think I’m standing here with my hands in my pockets? It’s because I’m afraid if I take them out, I’ll wind up laying you down right on the floor of this gazebo and begging you to let me make you mine.”
My jaw falls open. “You—what?”
“You don’t know me very well yet, but I don’t say things like that, Rune. I don’t do things like that, either. But there’s just something about you…” He frees one hand and runs it through his hair in frustration. “Christ, tell me you feel it too.”
I should tell him that I don’t. That he’s lost his mind. But the best I can do is to squeak out, “I think you’ve been reading way too many of the Sinsters’ spicy novels. Also, Mr. Stickler-for-the-Rules, I’m pretty sure we’d get arrested for public indecency.”
“Don’t change the subject. You asked me to make you feel , and I could have sworn I did. That you were as into it as I was. Was I wrong?”
I can see the doubt in those beautiful blue eyes of his. All I want is to erase it. “No.” Surely I can give him that much.
“Why, then? And don’t give me crap about the employee manual.”
What can I say that will convince him? “We’re too different. It would never work.”
“Have you never heard the phrase ‘opposites attract’?” he argues. “When I called you ‘Chaos,’ I didn’t mean it as an insult. I know what I said before, at the Grille, but that was just me being…” He swallows hard. “Sometimes, when I’m pushed out of my comfort zone, I can react poorly, okay?”
Now it’s my turn to snort. “You think?”
“I—I like your chaos, okay? You have this energy about you, this charisma… I don’t know how to describe it. But from the moment I met you, all I could see was you.”
“The moment you met me?” I narrow my eyes at him. “You mean when you let the elevator doors close in my face and then backed away as far as you could, like I was radiating poison?”
Donovan’s jaw clenches. “Damn it, Rune. Because I wanted… Are you really going to make me say it?”
“I think,” I say, regarding him in puzzlement, “that I am.”
“Fine!” He glares at me. “Because from the moment I saw you, I wanted to plunge my hands into your messed-up hair and mess it up some more. I wanted to pin you to the mirrored wall of that damn elevator and push up that little skirt and ravage the hell out of you. To see you wrecked just for me. And I hadn’t even said one goddamn word to you yet, other than What floor. ” He’s breathing hard, his chest heaving. “So forgive me if I kept my fucking distance.”
Shocked silence falls between us. I open my mouth, shut it again.
“Say something.” His voice is tight.
I try, I really do. But for once, I’m speechless.
“If you won’t talk, then I will,” Donovan says. “You were so…alive, is the only word I can think of. You called me black and white, before? Well, it was like you stepped right into my world and filled it with color. And yeah, you made a mess. Hell, two hours after I met you, we’d already been in a wreck courtesy of my asshole brother and gotten splashed all over social media. And four hours after that , you fell right into my fucking arms.”
“Don’t remind me,” I mutter.
“You fit, though. Like you belonged there.” He liberates one hand from the pocket of his jeans and strokes the hair back from my face, his touch gentle. “I don't understand why I’m so drawn to you, Rune. I just know that I am. If by some bizarre chance you feel the same, then please give this—give us—a chance.”
His tone is pleading, and my chest aches at the sound. It seems impossible to me that this beautiful man, who’s willing to be so honest and vulnerable with me, could possibly be connected to the death of my family. But I’ve worked with everyone else at Smashbox for years. If not him, then who?
“Rune?” he says again, tracing the line of my cheekbone as if he can’t help but touch me. And God help me, I feel just as drawn to him. What the hell is going on here?
“I can’t ,” I say, my voice cracking.
“Do you…not want me?” I can hear the effort it takes for him to keep his voice level. “If that’s the case, just tell me. I’ll leave you alone, I promise. I’ll never bring it up again.”
Lie to him, a voice whispers inside me. Probably my common sense. But I can’t bear to. “I do want you, Donovan. The way you felt in the elevator—I felt the same. Except for the part where I thought you were a total dick. But the pinning and the ravaging, check and check.”
He sucks in a sharp breath. “You’re killing me. Then why ?”
“Trust me on this one.” I stumble backward from him, sinking down onto the gazebo’s built-in bench. The wind gusts, bringing with it the scents of cotton candy and popcorn, but this time I don’t feel nostalgic for the few good moments of my childhood. This time, all I smell is loss. “Believe me when I tell you you’re better off without me, Donovan. Please.”
“Shouldn’t that be my choice?”
Gah. In desperation, I fumble in my purse and pull out the piece of paper with the symbol scrawled on it. Maybe if I show it to him and he reveals his true colors—assuming that there are any true colors to reveal—then all of this will get a hell of a lot easier. “Do you recognize this?” I say, holding it up.
He bends closer to take a look, his expression pure puzzlement. “No. Should I? What does this have to do with us?”
If there’s one thing my upbringing instilled in me, it’s the ability to tell when someone’s lying. Donovan is telling the truth. Which doesn’t mean he’s not connected to my parents’ deaths, but it does take one variable off the table. “Forget it,” I say, stuffing it back into my purse.
“I’m not even going to ask.” His stern mouth curves up at the corners in an unexpectedly fond smile. “Just—Rune, tell me the real reason you don’t think we should be together. Because nothing you’re saying so far makes any sense.”
I throw up my hands. When in doubt, go with the truth. “Donovan, I’m cursed. Being close to me will only bring you pain, all right?”
He shakes his head in disbelief, just like I knew he would. “That’s not true. You’ve had a bad couple of days, that’s all.”
“No,” I say slowly, willing him to understand. “I’m cursed. I can see the future. You’re right, we’re meant to be together. But the only way our relationship ends is in your death.”
Donovan gives a low, uneasy laugh. “What are you talking about?”
Better for him to think I’m unhinged than to keep going down this road. “I know you won’t believe me. No one ever does—hence, the curse. But when I passed out in the car and on my porch, it was because I had a premonition. And in the office, on the desk, I had another one. We’re destined to be married. And the day of our wedding, if we go through with it, you’ll die.”
“Jesus.” His jaw works. “You could’ve just said you didn’t want to be with me, Rune. There’s no need to resort to…whatever this is.”
“This,” I tell him, my voice even but dangerous, “is the truth.”
“Uh huh. And you expect me to believe that you’re some kind of…of prophet?”
“No! I already told you, I expect the exact opposite. No one ever believes me. No one can. But you wanted to know why we need to stay away from each other, and that’s the answer. Because loving me will freaking kill you. Okay?”
We stare at each other, neither of us willing to yield. And then, from the path behind the gazebo comes the worst possible voice at the worst possible time, saying the least possible thing.
“I believe you, Rune,” Officer Asshat says.