8. Raven
If Christian’s charming wit and sexy, flirty drawl is a dangerous thing to experience, his grumpy attitude is another experience altogether—one I also don’t like. Beyond that, it drives me crazy, especially when I have to wake up to it and deal with it every day that we’re stuck together in the house.
And we’re stuck together a lot.
Preschool is a nice distraction, though it can be frustrating, too, as every time I try to wake up super early to get away from him, Christian just wakes up earlier and is more than ready whenever I roll up the garage door. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone that determined to one-up me all the time, yet what can I do?
Glare at him until he goes away? Snap at him to leave me alone?
“You paid me to protect you. I’m going to tag along, Raven.”
“I didn’t say anything.” Though I have so many things to say. Instead, I shut my mouth and wait for him to slide in the passenger seat, his long legs folding tightly into the small space.
I glare at him and try not to notice. He scowls back. It’s practically a routine this time, and we end up driving to work in silence.
At school, I get a little bit of reprieve since he hangs out with Aaron a lot, but then I hear his familiar laughter in the background and become distracted for different reasons. But I use it to fuel my determination to teach what I know, eventually taking over for Honey Lee most days so she can take a break. Then, the school break is in progress and I no longer have any reprieve.
And it’s driving me crazier.
I try to stay in my room as much as I can, sitting in my favorite corner: the nook, where I get to peek at my neighbors coming and going and draw inspiration from them. I’ve met a few to and from school, some of whom are friendly while others question my presence, especially in Christian’s house. Luckily, Christian knows how to navigate these things, telling everyone that I’m an assignment while grinning to win them over into not asking for more details.
I don’t know how he does it, but even the most hawk-eyed of them are charmed enough to leave the topic alone. Secretly, though, I’m pretty sure everyone—except Honey Lee and Aaron—thinks we’re sleeping together, and I don’t know what to think of that.
I glance down at my tablet, where I’ve been penciling in details of the character I have in mind for my new children’s book. I always draw the main character last, and I frown as I finish the face details and feel like something isn’t right. I switch to the writing part, staring at the page where I started talking about Newt’s first day in school.
Except my mind is blank.
After minutes of writing and erasing, I put my tablet down and leave my room, frustrated that the words aren’t flowing now when they usually flow so smoothly. Walking the streets or going out with my co-workers helps when I get stuck in a rut, but a look at the living room reminds me that, no, I’m no longer in the city.
I’m in a nice town but stuck in a house that’s not mine.
“What’s wrong?”
It’s always Christian’s question whenever I wander around like this, grumpy enough to make noises. I whirl to face him.
“Let’s go out.”
Unperturbed by my restlessness, he tilts his head.
“Where?”
“Dinner. Grocery store. I don’t know. Whatever fun thing you guys do around here.”
He glances at the wall clock. “It’s nine-thirty in the evening.”
“So?”
“Everything’s closed around here or closing. Except for bars, which I wouldn’t recommend.”
I don’t want to go to a bar, either, not after what happened the last time that I went to one. Certainly not with him.
“What about parks?”
“We have lovely parks, but it’s also better to enjoy them during the day.”
I frown at him. “Is it like this for all small towns?”
He shrugs. “Not all. But we’re a very small town with a very small population. Most people don’t even know Sweet Haven exists.”
The perfect hideout, his face says. I bite back a sigh while he examines me, then opens his mouth. But I speak first.
“Well, what’s fun to do around here at nine-thirty in the evening?” Christian raises a brow. I fight off my blush before an idea pops into my head. “Do you have board games or anything like that?”
“Pardon me if I ask, but…cabin fever?”
There’s no point in denying it. “Yes.”
I brace for him to lecture me that that’s part of the program, too. But he doesn’t.
“I have cards.”
My energy surges. “Card games! We can turn it into a drinking one if you have drinks around here.”
Now his brows shoot up. “Really?”
“What? Your entire house is locked up. You said it yourself, we’re safe in here, and you can get as drunk as you want—not that you have to, but…”
“It’s an option.”
Green eyes gleam at the challenge in my tone, and the challenge enters his expression, too.
And silly as it may seem, I feel like I won something when he finally nods.
“Card and drinking game it is.”
* * *
“Truth or dare.”
“Truth.”
I don’t know how we evolved from a simple card game to this, but Christian isn’t backing out. That means I can’t, either. I scrutinize his unreadable expression and ponder my next move.
“What’s the most embarrassing story you can tell me about your past?”
Most guys don’t like talking about their mortifying moments as it makes them seem less macho or cool, so I’m surprised when Christian answers promptly and doesn’t even glance at his whiskey.
“High school. I think we were around fifteen, sixteen? Anyway, this girl liked my best friend, Nick, but he was a moody ass and too enamored with the senior head cheerleader, Heather Maroon.”
“Ah, cheerleaders. Every high school boy’s dream girl.”
“Not me. I was into rocker chicks.” He grins, then continues. “Anyway, I was friends with the girl who liked Nick and thought it would be fun to play Cupid. So, I asked her to give me her poetry and told her to leave it up to me to make him see that she was his one true love.”
“Heroic.”
“Come game day—we played football—I was just healing from an injury and couldn’t play, so I put on the school mascot instead to make the grand gesture for her. But I was kind of nervous when I realized the stadium was crowded and I needed something to drink, so I drank from the team’s juice cooler…except it turned out the cooler got tampered with by a teammate’s bitter ex-girlfriend.”
My eyes widen. “No…diarrhea?”
“Not really, but close. So, I went to the center with a megaphone before the game started, just as the players were called to the field. I announced the poetry that I memorized, felt sick somewhere in the middle of it, and let’s just say it’s not just words coming out of my mouth anymore but everything I ate since breakfast—not in the mascot, thank goodness, since I removed the head of the mascot just in the nick of time.”
I gasp. I remember how big a deal football was in my high school, too, and how the adrenaline is so charged when the game’s about to start. The mascot usually hypes the crowd up even further, so imagining him having all that attention…
“Oh, my God, Christian.”
He gestures dramatically.
“So, there I was, vomiting my guts out while still trying to recite the poem and dedicate it to Nick, but I forgot to say the girl’s name somewhere along the way…so yeah, everyone thought I was in love with my best friend, but I managed to save my team from drinking from that juice cooler. They ended up winning.”
“And you?”
“I got detention, the ex-girlfriend got longer detention, people assumed Nick and I were together, and I got the nickname Barf Benson for a while…oh, and the last one was the mortifying part. The rest was fine.”
“Even detention with your teammate’s ex? Wouldn’t she have been mad at you for ruining her plan?” The mischief in his eyes answers it for me. “Holy…you got together with her, didn’t you?”
“Hooked up.” It’s a casual clarification. At my stare, he shrugs. “I was sixteen. She was seventeen. Teenagers forget bad deeds when faced with hot girls.”
I roll my eyes but can’t help giggling. Maybe it’s the alcohol, but the story makes me see him in a different light, in disbelief that there’s this dorky and loyal side to him.
“What about the girl who crushed on Nick?”
At his smirk, I choke on my beer. “You did not.”
“We developed an attraction. It was brief, fun, and ended mutually. Nick still has no idea she liked him.”
“Gosh.”
“Your turn.”
I blink, then raise my chin at his challenging look. “Dare.”
“I dare you to tell me your favorite memory.”
“Seriously? That’s not even a dare.”
“It still is.”
It’s a safe one. I kind of get where he’s coming from, but it triggers the restless energy inside me. Still, I try to think.
“Twenty-four years old.”
“That’s it? After I spilled my guts out to you?”
I shoot him a look, then smile when the memory becomes clearer. “I published my first children’s book.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. The Red Rabbit and the White Tree.”
“Holy shit.” This time, his eyes grow so wide. “You’re Rain Jelly?”
My mouth forms an O. “You know the book?”
“By heart. My best friend’s kid, Jazzy—now my sister’s stepdaughter—loves that book and always asks me to read it to her to bed.” To my astonishment, he recites the first few pages smoothly. “Wait. You also wrote Whispers of the Purple Frog, didn’t you? And The Humpback Cat?”
“Yeah. Animals are a big hit with kids.”
“You’re telling me. Jazzy loses her shit laughing whenever we get to the middle of The Humpback Cat.”
I know I’m not supposed to, but I can’t help picturing Christian being a doting uncle, one who will dutifully finish a book until his niece is fast asleep. It’s a heartwarming image.
“I’m glad she likes it.”
“Not likes. Loves.” He studies me. “Was it always your dream to be a children’s book writer?”
“Writer, yes. Artist, no. But I was short on time and funds, and I got my drawing talent from my uncle. I wasn’t as good as him, but it worked, so I stuck to being the artist for my books, too.”
“Wow. I can’t believe you’re that talented…I mean, I’m not saying it’s unbelievable or impossible. I think it’s amazing.”
I can feel my cheeks heating up at his sincere compliment. “I can’t believe you memorized it.”
He shrugs. “No big deal. If you read something all the time, you’re bound to memorize it.”
The affection in his voice tells me otherwise. I want to ask more, but Honey Lee told me he’s big on protecting the privacy of his sister and best friend’s family. So, I leave the topic of Jazzy alone.
“Your turn. Truth or dare?”
I brace myself since he already chose truth three times and?—
“Truth.”
“Are you kidding me?”
Christian bites back a grin. “There’s not much to do around here dare-wise.”
“Care to bet on that?”
“Fine.” He leans forward, a twinkle in his eye. “Dare.”
“I dare you to do something you’ve never done before.”
He considers it. Then he finishes his glass of whiskey in one gulp, his expression changing at what I imagine is a strong burn sliding down his throat. The glass was almost half-full, too.
“What was that?”
Again, he shrugs. “Haven’t done it before. That’s as daring as I can get.”
I want to argue that he did more daring things when I first met him, but again, it’s a topic that almost feels taboo. I want to ask why he left, but I’m also hesitant to find out the answer.
Besides, he already made things clear between us. I lift my chin.
“I choose dare.”
“I didn’t ask yet.”
“I’m still choosing dare, Christian.”
I’m no longer surprised when his dare involves the most mundane thing: walking a straight line toward the kitchen to get some water. We throw the truth or dare thing a few more times until the questions become a blur—mostly because Christian never chooses dare again.
“What’s the grandest gesture you’ve ever done for someone you had a crush on?”
“I’d rather not say.”
It’s the first time he doesn’t answer promptly.
“Really?”
“It’s a well-kept secret.”
“That’s why I’m asking.”
“If the town finds out, they’ll make a big deal out of it.”
Now he’s really done it. My ears perk and my body straightens, suddenly more interested than I’ve ever been.
“Really? It’s that big of a gesture?”
He shakes his head. “Nah. I’m not really into grand gestures. That’s Nick’s thing. Do you know he sang Clara’s song at his concert to declare his love for her? In front of hundreds of people. Maybe even thousands.”
“And do you know that’s an evasion tactic?”
His mouth quirks, but I can see a decision coming into his expression. Then Christian sighs.
“Okay. So, this isn’t a grand gesture, but it’s the most gesture I’ve done romance-wise.”
“Okay.”
“There’s this girl in town who I kind of grew up with. She’s friends with my sister, so she was essentially my acquaintance, too, until…”
“You grew feelings?”
“Yeah. After my first contract as a Navy SEAL ended, I went home and brought flowers and a letter. I was going to tell her how I felt after keeping it in for so long, but…”
The anticipation is killing me. “But?”
“I found out she got married.”
“Oh.”
“So, I went back and re-enlisted. Tried to avoid her over the years until we were forced to interact. Eventually moved on and every interaction was easier. I became friends with her husband. He’s a good guy. Amazing woodworker.”
It doesn’t click at first. Then it does.
And I don’t know why, but my heart drops at the knowledge.
“You had a thing for Honey Lee?”
“Yeah. I did.”