Chapter 7 #2
“You know why I need to speak with you,” I say through gritted teeth. “You’re here to sabotage us, and I won’t let it happen.”
He smiles at me, his lips surprisingly full beneath that fake beard. A shiver works through me.
You’re too close to the door, that’s all.
“Did you set up that scene back there so you could talk to me more quickly?” he asks.
Rage consumes me. “Let’s go outside,” I say tightly.
He shakes his head. “No. We’ll stay inside unless you have pants to put on over those.”
I glance down at my stockings. I do have a change of clothes, but I hadn’t planned on wearing it. It’s not overly cold outside tonight, and I’ve always run hot.
“Outside is fine.”
“I was raised to be a gentleman.”
I give him an incredulous look. “Whoever tried to teach you failed.”
His lips press together, and I know I’ve displeased him. Good. He deserves to be displeased. But he’s obviously as stubborn as his grandmother, because he doesn’t take a single step toward the door.
“Fine,” I snap. “We’ll talk in the kitchen.”
He extends his hand in a lead on gesture.
“You go first,” I say, because I don’t like the thought of him watching my butt.
I thought it looked really good in this skirt earlier, when I used a hand mirror and my full-length bathroom mirror to check, but “really good” is probably barely passable for a man like Enzo.
After all, I spent half an hour with Rachelle.
I know what his type is. Tall and blonde and shaped like Jessica Rabbit.
“So you do like to watch,” he says, his mouth lifting into a half-smile.
I can hardly let him take the lead now, so I stomp off toward the kitchen, nearly mowing down Mark Parks, who seems like he’s actively seeking out a lawsuit now, because he’s murmuring something about the slippery floor.
I can feel Enzo following me. He’s like a dark shadow being cast over me, an apex predator on my trail.
The feeling is intensified when I hear the door swing shut behind him, sealing us in here together. I can still hear the hum of conversation from the adjoining room, but it’s muted, making the rest of the world feel distant.
I need to get a grip on myself and reclaim control of the situation. I take a deep breath, taking in the scent of Eileen’s cinnamon rolls proofing just feet from me. It smells delectable back here, like sugar, spice, and everything nice. Like Christmas. The scent is remarkably soothing.
My mom used to make cinnamon rolls on Christmas Eve before she got too sick. They’d rise overnight and she’d pop them in the oven on Christmas morning.
Enzo steps a little closer, shrinking the space between us to something more intimate. “Can I take off this beard now?” he asks. “It smells like Cheetos.”
“What did you do to Curtis?” I hiss, glancing at the door. Then again, if we can’t hear their words, they won’t be able to hear ours.
“I didn’t do anything to him,” he says, tugging off the beard and exposing his strong jaw. He hasn’t shaved today, and his dark stubble makes him look a little rougher around the edges than usual. So do the slight circles under his eyes. It’s…
It’s devastatingly attractive, and it makes me even angrier.
“Of course you did. He was having the time of his life. You should have heard him sing along to the Chipmunks’ Christmas song.”
He laughs under his breath, and I stomp my foot.
“Eileen and I are trying to make people happy,” I say, my voice rising with every word. “Why would you want to get in the way of that? Do you really hate this town that much?”
Some dark emotion passes over his face. “You’re not going to make any of these women happy if you’re trying to set them up with sexual predators and predatory lawyers. Where’d you find these guys, anyway?”
I bite my lip, feeling called out. He isn’t entirely wrong about the quality of the men out there.
Then again, the quality of single men seeking partners on the internet isn’t any better.
“That’s none of your business. You didn’t buy a ticket, and you’re not wanted here. It’s time for you to leave.”
He lifts his dark, commanding eyebrows and folds his arms over his chest. They fill out the sleeves of his long-sleeved shirt in a way that distracts me for half a second, but I snap my gaze back to his smug face.
“I traded for a ticket, fair and square, and I’ve been a delight to my dates.
What justification do you have for kicking me out? ”
“I didn’t crash your little copycat event,” I say, barely holding back from poking him in the chest. “Although I have to commend you on your originality.”
His smile infuriates me. “Humanity’s been around for long enough that nothing in this world is truly original. It’s all in the delivery.”
“So then you must be doubly unhappy with the outcome. I heard the town showed up in defense of Eileen.”
“Did you also hear we raised a couple thousand dollars for charity and sold out of some of our specialty foods? The event was a success by any metric.”
I sense weakness and dig. “Does that mean your brother’s looking forward to pulling taffy? I confess, I really look forward to seeing it. Portia said everyone is invited, so Eileen, Charlie, and I will definitely be there. We haven’t been banned from the candy shop.”
“Give it time,” he says in an annoyed undertone.
I prop a hand on my hip. “Portia is my friend. And you know what? Erica is Eileen’s friend. I can’t wait to see what she has planned for you.”
Sure, Eileen plans on taking over the date and being nice to him, but he doesn’t know that. Besides, there’s still a chance I can convince her to take a different tack.
“I hope it’s really wicked,” he says with a smile that infuriates me.
“She’s the mayor’s wife.”
“Then she shouldn’t be bidding on bachelors. In front of her husband, no less. I wouldn’t let my wife do that.”
Oh, this man is infuriating. “As if you can let a woman do anything. I don’t believe for one minute that poor Curtis gave up his place ‘fair and square.’ You must have forced him. What did you do to him?”
He shrugs. “I told him I’d remind everyone of the time he jizzed in our English teacher’s handbag if he didn’t let me take his place.”
My mouth falls open in shock. “He really did that?”
His full lips tip up at the corners. “Would he have taken off at a run if he hadn’t?”
“But why?”
“He’s a pervert,” he says with some heat. “Just like half the guys out there. Which is why you need to reconsider your foolish plan.”
The air feels like it was sucked from my lungs. “What plan?”
His eyes bore into me. Surely it should be illegal for a man to look at a woman like that, like he can see past her clothes and undergarments.
We stand there for a second, a strange energy arcing between us in the cinnamon-scented kitchen.
We’re alone, so alone in here, even though there are dozens of people just beyond that door.
You hate him.
And I do, I really do. And yet…
He fills out that shirt so well, and part of me responds to his feral, commanding energy—wanting to bite back. And then strip his shirt off so I can see what’s hidden beneath it.
He clears his throat, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and the tension breaks. “I found the slip of paper you dropped on the bridge.”
Oh no. Oh no, no, no. Skippy ate that note. He was supposed to have saved me from this awful moment.
My face hot with shame, I say, “You don’t understand what you saw. It was about someone else.”
“No,” he says firmly, his intense dark eyes glued to mine. “We both know it wasn’t. And you can’t go through with this. You don’t know what those men are like. I do. They’ll talk. If you’re going to go through with this crazy plan, you need to choose someone who’s discreet.”
My mouth goes dry. Surely he doesn’t mean…
“I’ll do it.”
For half a second, molten, sensual heat floods my body, but it’s chased out by pure, undiluted fury.
Enzo Cafiero just offered to take my virginity as if he were taking one for the team.