15. Chapter 15
A low, incessant knocking has me rolling over in bed with a groan. Out of it but lucid enough to reach for my phone, I grab it and hold it to my ear. “Hello?”
When there’s no response, I glare at the screen and realize I’m half crazy. Or still half asleep. Not totally sure.
Knock. Knock. Knock .
“Daria?” Dane’s deep voice sounds muffled through my bedroom door. This time, I throw the pillow over my head.
“What do you want?”
“Um.” Was that him clearing his throat? “I made you some breakfast. Wondered if we could…talk.”
I fly up to a seated position and squint at the door. What the heck is he even saying?
“I wanted to apologize for yesterday,” he clarifies. A soft thump sounds on the other side of the door, like maybe he’s leaning against it. It paints a mental picture I’m not really fond of imagining right now. “It wasn’t my finest moment.”
I purse my lips and slide off the bed. Before he can say anything else, I whip open the door. He falls toward me, flailing arms raised. As he crashes into me with a yelp, I realize two things:
One, he was, in fact, leaning against the door. And two, one arm must have been casually raised above his head while he put all his weight on one foot. Because we clatter to the ground in a heap, and his giant muscled body pins me to the carpet with a thud.
I’d yell at him, push him off, scold him if I could, but all the breath has left my body in one fell swoop.
“Are you okay?” Dane sounds a bit breathless himself as I croak and struggle for oxygen. “I’m so sorry.” His jeans-clad thigh slides between both of mine as he pushes himself up to his elbows and gazes down at me with concern. “Oh, crap, you’re hyperventilating.”
I’m about to explain that no, I am not hyperventilating, I just got the wind knocked out of me by an overgrown oaf when his hands grip my upper arms. Before I even know what’s happening, he’s holding my arms above my head with one hand while the other presses against my back and hauls me upright.
“Breathe,” he croons, rubbing slow circles on my lower back. We’re nose to nose as he straddles my legs, eyes full of concern. “Breathe, D. Get some air in those lungs.”
Is that why he’s holding me like this? To help me get a full breath of air?
This close, it’s impossible not to notice the honey-colored flecks in his blue eyes, the way his dark eyebrows perfectly frame them. The light stubble on his jaw looks good enough to scratch against my palm.
“There ya go,” he says, encouragingly. “Thatta girl. Nice and easy.”
I didn’t even realize my breathing had returned to normal.
Probably because my arms are still lifted over my head, captured in his firm hold, while his other slides against my waist. The last time we were this close was when we danced at the wedding, but the dim glow of the reception lights did not do him justice.
I swallow when I realize he’s watching me carefully. Too carefully.
I tug my wrists from his grasp a little too quickly and almost topple backward again when he reaches out to steady me. “Easy there.”
A wheezy laugh escapes me. “Easy there? You literally just pushed me down to the floor and I’m supposed to take it easy ?”
Regret clouds his features. “I’m really sorry; it wasn’t intentional. Obviously, I wasn’t expecting you to open the door like that.”
“Obviously,” I huff.
He eases himself back, taking his intoxicating man smell with him, and I run a hand over my hair to ignore the way his jeans scrape over my bare thighs. My eyes widen as I glance down.
My. Bare. Thighs.
I just had to wear the tiniest booty shorts known to man to bed last night with a built-in bra camisole that leaves little to the imagination.
“Get out!” I yell. Dane rears back like I hit him.
“Can I—”
“Now!”
He scrambles to his feet like my bedroom is on fire and backpedals into the hallway, hands raised. “I said I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
I crawl toward the door faster than a rabid raccoon and slam it in his face. I’m heaving when I slump to the floor, face first like a starfish.
A hush falls over the apartment as I continue to regret last night’s choices—and this morning’s, for that matter—until his deep, muffled voice once again breaks through my self-loathing.
“So. Breakfast?”
Once I’m dressed and looking less like an underwear model and more like a respectable roommate, I sit down at the small dining table that’s spread with enough bacon to make my mouth water.
Slowly, hesitantly, I let my eyes linger on the breakfast Dane made for us. Pancakes. Fruit. The aforementioned bacon. I lift my gaze to where he sits across from me. He’s still as watchful as he was in my bedroom. I’m convinced there’s a side dish of slimy manipulation hidden here somewhere.
“What’s all this for?” My question comes out harsher than I intended, but something’s up. I can feel it.
“It’s for you—I mean, us .” Dane averts his eyes while his hands move back and forth under the table. Like he’s running them down the front of his jeans over and over. “I like to cook. You can ask Parker if you don’t believe me.” With that defensive dare, he meets my eyes.
Narrowing mine right back, I tap my nails against the tabletop.
“And,” he hedges, holding out the word. “It’s sort of an apology.”
I lift my chin, a small sense of victory swelling inside me. He wants me to forgive him. Of course he does. No one wants to live in a hostile environment for five weeks.
“Fine. You’re forgiven.” Dane’s blank expression tells me that’s not the response he was going for. “What?” I ask. “Surprised I’d forgive you so easily? I’m not one to hold a grudge.” I grab a piece of crispy bacon and take a bite, never taking my eyes off his.
“You and I both know that’s not true.” His mouth twitches at one corner, almost like he wants to smile but won’t let himself. Which is a good move because I don’t find what he said funny. At all.
“Don’t act like you know me.”
A deep sigh leaks out of him as he leans back in the chair. “I may not know everything about you yet, but I know enough to know you’re not that quick to forgive.”
“Depends on the offense,” I say with a fake smile, then shove the rest of the bacon in my mouth. No sense in pretense. It’s not like I’m trying to impress him or anything.
His eyes narrow the slightest bit before he schools his expression into that calm mask he’s obviously perfected. “Understandable, I guess.”
Psh. He guesses.
“Anyway, I really would like to move past our rocky start. I just…ah…well, Parker says I’m anal about the way I like things.”
I scoff. “You don’t say.”
“And,” he forges ahead, undeterred, “it’s something I’m trying to get better about. I’m seeing a therapist, actually.” He swallows. Once, twice.
I try not to focus on the way his Adam’s apple bobs up and down each time, but this topic obviously unsettles him. In fact, it unsettles me a bit. Remembering what Jamie told me over the phone, regret hits me. “Look, you don’t need to—”
“No, I do.” He splays his large hands on the tabletop. “It’s—it’s one of the things I need to work on. Apologizing when I mess up.”
I swallow the last bite of bacon, ignoring the way it feels like it’s caught in my now tight throat.
I really don’t want to feel bad for Dane when he’s such a meanie sometimes.
But it’s hard not to sympathize with someone who is aware of his own shortcomings.
Self-aware men are sexy, no matter how many red flags they carry.
“Okay,” I say. “Maybe forgiving people is something I need to work on, too. And…I’ll try.” His deep blue gaze connects with mine. “To forgive you, I mean.”
His shoulders visibly relax. “Thank you, Daria.”
I dip my chin, go back to the breakfast spread before me, and try not to overanalyze the tightness in my chest. I don’t usually do awkward emotional moments or sitcom-worthy confessions. I barely even do apologies. Yet here I am… trying .
“So, there’s something I wanted to ask you…” Dane’s voice draws my attention back to him. He’s swallowing again and shifting the eggs around on his plate with his fork. “My mom wanted to invite you over for dinner.”
I carefully set my fork down and take a sip of the orange juice he took the time to pour for me.
“Okay.” I let the word’s last syllable hang in the air and wait for him to expound.
His mom’s like a well-contained firecracker.
Jamie’s told me some stories about her, and I know enough to realize that the Kent family dinners are where stuff goes down.
“It’s just that…you know…she wants to meet you.” Dane still won’t meet my eyes, instead focusing on cutting his fruit into tiny, perfect cubes.
“She has met me.”
At that, Dane’s attention fixes on me. “I mean she wants to get to know you better. Since…you’re living here.”
My eyes narrow to slits as I sit back in the chair. “Does she think we’re dating?”
Dane blows out a heavy sigh. “I tried to tell her we aren’t, that this is a strictly platonic arrangement, but in her mind, men and women can’t be friends.”
I cock an eyebrow. “Did you mention to her how thoroughly I despise your kind?”
His jaw works back and forth like he’s grinding his teeth. “Tell me you don’t still believe that all men are players?”
I shrug one shoulder, then pop a piece of fruit in my mouth. “Okay, fine. Maybe not all men. Just tell her I’m not into buff gym rats who like to keep their apartment surgery room sterile.”
He rolls his tongue across his teeth, mouth closed, like it’s taking every ounce of his self-control not to shoot back some scathing retort. “Fine. I will. But in the meantime, I’d appreciate it if you’d accompany me to family dinner on Friday.”
I purse my lips and mull it over. “Will I be grilled about our…living arrangement?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
Well, at least he’s being honest.
“Look, if you’re peppered with questions, I promise I’ll be the one to answer them. You don’t have to say a word. Just sit there and be the stunning woman we both know you are.”
My lips threaten to curve into a smile, but I will them to behave. “Laying it on pretty thick, huh?”
“Whatever gets you to come.” His self-control must not be as iron-clad as mine since he does smile at that.
It’s short-lived, though, and his expression falls as he moves on to begging.
“Please, D. I wouldn’t ask you to do this except that it’s important to my mom.
I just want her to know that she’s got nothing to worry about. ”
“What’s the alternative?”
His eyebrows lift. “You mean, what’s the alternative to us sitting through a delicious dinner and placating her with the truth?
” A troubled laugh shakes the table as he leans into it.
“Let’s just say this. If I don’t show up to family dinner with you this week, there’s a good chance she’ll be showing up for a five a.m. wake-up call the next day. ”
I wince. “Why, though? What’s her deal?”
He shakes his head and runs a hand through his dark hair. “Honestly? She’s just very traditional. Thinks it’s wrong for a man and woman to live under the same roof if they’re not married to each other.”
“Even if we aren’t having sex?”
He blinks a few times in quick succession, giving me the impression he’s not used to such bluntness. Then swallows. “Uh, yeah. Even then.”
Silence, thick and uncomfortable, settles between us. “Fine,” I huff, needing to end this before I say or do something else that will shock him. “I’ll do it. Whatever it takes to get her off our backs.”
“Really?”
I wave him off, shoving a forkful of eggs in my mouth. “Why not? I mean, I don’t want to miss out on my beauty sleep because your mom still believes in fairy tales.” I pretend not to notice the way Dane stiffens at my comment.
“She doesn’t believe in fairy tales,” he corrects me. “She just loves her family and wants the best for them. And she worries when we make decisions that go against the values she instilled in us as kids.”
“Okay. But shouldn’t your word be enough for her? If you tell her there’s nothing to worry about, she should believe you.”
“Really?” He glares at me. “Like you believe me when I insist that I’m not a player?” His hard gaze nearly penetrates my resolve to keep him in the box I designated for him. I’m rendered momentarily speechless, and I hate it.
For a second, he just stares as if he’s weighing his next words. In a low voice, he finally says, “Being honest with someone doesn’t guarantee their approval. You, of all people, should understand that.”
I purse my lips and push the food around on my plate, despising how he tosses my words and actions back at me hard enough to get me to think.
I’d like to believe he’s not who I’ve decided he is.
And I’d genuinely like to get some answers concerning our past, but.
..moving on has never been something I’ve excelled at.
So I brush aside the way he called me out and go back to eating. Avoidance seems to be the only thing I’ve got going for me lately. Let’s see if I can keep it up for the rest of my time with Dane.