Chapter 14 Honest #2
I take a sip of my wine. “In all fairness, I have no idea if there’s a foodbank.”
“If it means you’ll speak to me, I’ll set one up myself.”
I set my glass down and lean back in my seat. “The quiet was nice while it lasted.”
His blue eyes narrow a touch. “And here I thought you were serving up the silent treatment again.”
I try but fail to keep my lips from pulling at the corners. “I’ve been thinking about how I’m going to cash in on our deal.”
“Just what I’ve been waiting for. The interrogation,” he deadpans before leaning back in his seat and holding his hands out low. “Do your worst.”
“I can tell how intimidated you are.”
He shrugs. “You’ve kept me on my toes from the moment I met you. I don’t underestimate you in anything, and a deal’s a deal. What do you want to know?”
I’ve thought about this as the sun danced on Lake Winslet before fading away. The questions have turned over and over in my head. I’m not only desperate to know a little bit about the man sitting across from me, but everything.
Maybe it’s the fact I’ve allowed others to demand so much of me since Albert walked into my life.
I’m not proud of how small I became during the time I knew him.
I didn’t realize it until the day my life blew up in my face.
I lost myself, but that’s what happens when one slowly shrinks, little by little, over time.
One day, you wake up and you have forgotten the person you used to be.
And, dammit, I really loved who I was. If I thought the realization of who I became was bad, pretending to be small was harder than anything I’ve ever done. That includes allowing Janie to walk all over me.
“I read up on you,” I blurt through my own jumbled thoughts. It’s not a question, but a statement. Hell, it probably sounds more like a confession. “I might not have contacts who work in intelligence, but I do have Google.”
Devon doesn’t move. He sits stock-still. Not even a muscle jumps in his cheek. “What did you find?”
I’ve yet to ask him anything, and he still demands answers from me.
“An article about you and how your career ended.”
“Told you how my career ended, Harlow.” His tone is firm, even, and cold. Everything about him has turned to ice. He’s been a lot of things since I met him, but not this.
“There was an explosion,” I add. “And your name was leaked to the press. That’s what ended your career.”
His lack of response tells me the answers from my simple search are spot on.
“An explosion,” I echo my own words and the nightmare I read about in countless articles.
That finally garners a response. His lips press into a flat line, and his square jaw tenses further.
I didn’t know how he’d react. He doesn’t refute any of it.
My voice softens as I go on. “And another agent died.”
He presses his hand flat to the linen covered table. As intense as he’s become, I force myself not to break our gaze even though it’s hard. “I’ll let you in on a secret, Harlow. Interrogations require questions. You haven’t asked me one.”
I pull in a deep breath. All of a sudden, the crisp evening air feels stagnant in my lungs. “I’m sorry that happened to you.”
“Which part?”
“Every part.” I want to reach out and take his hand, but something stops me. “I only know what little I read online, and it was tragic. I can’t imagine living the reality. I’m sure it was a million times worse.”
He wets the crease of his lips with his tongue and tips his head to study me. Other than that, he doesn’t move a muscle.
My chest is as heavy and tight as the air hanging between us. Devon does nothing to ease the tension.
I clear my throat. “Anyway, I just wanted to say I’m sorry. I’ve been me-me-me since I got here, and you’ve been nothing but helpful and supportive.”
His expression remains stoic other than the hike of a brow.
“Fine,” I amend. “Helpful, supportive, and intrusive.”
That wins me a twitch at the corner of his lips. It’s not even a full-on smirk, but it does put me at ease.
“I can’t forget demanding and grumpy. But since you delivered my breakup note and gave me second-hand flowers, I’ve decided to forgive the last two.”
“You’re really shit at interrogations. Maybe it’s the whole princess thing. Stick around, I’ll teach you a thing or two.”
“There you go again.” I lean forward and rest my forearms on the table.
There’s no need to lower my voice, we’re alone at the far end of the pier.
In fact, I’m not sure dining lakeside is a normality.
We’re the only table and no one has even strolled by.
“You really have a knack for balancing your arsehole tendencies,” I mimic his accent, “with sunsets, fine wine, and filet mignon.”
“I’m nothing if not well-rounded.”
“That’s not how I’d describe you,” I argue.
It’s his turn to lean forward. It cuts the small space between us in half. His normally bright blue eyes are darker with only the candle burning between us and the stars shining overhead.
I can count on one hand the number of times Devon has touched me. A firm touch at the small of my back. Trying to stop me from running away from him. Even taking my hand as if I needed help back to the car.
And there was that time I poked his wide, firm chest.
But this is different.
He drags his index finger over the top of my left hand and doesn’t stop until he traces my ring finger. When he gets to the tip, he doesn’t break our connection.
A connection that’s deliberate.
But more significantly, intimate.
He continues to run the tip of his index finger up and down the length of mine that could have been sporting a wedding ring right now. “You’ve described me plenty. Make up your mind.”
My gaze drops to our connection that might as well be an electric current.
Goosebumps run up the bare skin of my arms. Devon is heating me from the inside out with barely the tip of his finger.
My heart speeds and my breath shallows as everything in my body is at war with the cool nip of the night air.
And it’s all I can do not to shift in my seat from the rush of wetness between my legs.
I can’t remember the last time I’ve felt this way.
Lord, help me if he lays a full hand on me. I may orgasm on the spot.
“Honest,” I whisper on a shallow breath. “Good or bad, you’re honest—or at least I think you are. It feels like you are. I hope beyond measure that you are. More than anything, I need someone in my life to be sincere.”
He doesn’t hesitate or whisper. His tone is deep and resolute. “You can trust your instincts when it comes to me.”
I shake my head. “You wouldn’t say that if you knew how badly I fucked up. I have no business trusting my instincts. They’re so off-kilter, I’m scared to death of them.”
Devon does what I was afraid he would. His light touch turns into a warm embrace when his hand envelops mine. It’s strong and warm and foreign. I haven’t experienced anything like it.
Instead of telling me I should blindly trust him, he does something else.
He opens up.
“That agent that was killed was a friend. Outside of my family, he was the closest person I had in my life. There was very little that wasn’t leaked to the press about the incident, but what wasn’t reported is that it was my case that went to hell.
Hugh is dead because of me. You won’t tell me your secrets, but that’s mine.
His blood will forever be on my hands. That’s what you won’t read about on Google. ”
I grip his hand tighter across the small table, overcome with what he just shared when he didn’t need to. The urge within me to comfort him is strong. “It was an accident.”
He tips his head and gives me a lazy shrug. “Accidents, fuckups ... does it matter? He’s dead.”
He has a point.
“Why did you tell me?”
“Because we all fuck up. I don’t know what you did, but did anyone die?”
I can’t look at him. He has a way of reading me like a simple owner’s manual. I hate how transparent I am.
My gaze shifts to our embrace to avoid his scrutiny.
He gives me a squeeze and returns to the demanding man I’m strangely getting used to. “Someone died?”
I give my head a quick shake. “No, but it was close.”
Devon frowns. “What the hell does that mean?”
My eyes angle up to connect with his stare. I’ve kept this secret so long, there are some days I wake up and wonder if it was all a nightmare. The only other soul who knows is Chrissie.
I exhale and say it before I have the chance to count the times I’ve mistrusted people over the last few months.
“Me.”
His blue eyes narrow on a confused glower. “You?”
I nod. “Yes. I almost died.”