Shame the Devil (Portland Devils #3) - Rosalind James Page 0,37

nine there. But all right. Just because I feel stupid now.”

He grinned all the way into the bar.

She was sitting. It hurt, but her legs were also stiff, so … she was sitting. Her knee was almost touching Kris’s, because he was turned toward her on his stool.

She seriously needed to get a grip. She was getting flustered because his knee was close to hers. He also had one forearm on the bar, and he was wearing a T-shirt now. He had some very hard muscles. Bicep. Triceps. Forearm. She’d swear he had muscles in his hands. His extra-large hands. She asked, “Aren’t you cold?”

“Nope,” he said. “But I tend to run hot. What’ll you have?”

“I’m thinking herb tea.”

She must not have sounded too enthusiastic, because he asked, “Is that what you really want?”

“Well, no. I want hot chocolate with whipped cream, but you know. Calories.”

“Nah. Are you kidding me? You look great.”

“Oh, yeah. Right. In my yoga pants.”

He looked even better when he smiled. She tried not to get sucked into that smile, but it was hard. His eyes turned down at the edges and got a little squinty, and he had those creases around his mouth that were a man’s version of dimples. He said, “Yeah. Right. In your yoga pants. So come on. Have a hot chocolate and talk to me. I was in a bad mood, and you already made it better.”

She gave in. It wasn’t that hard. “So what was the bad mood about?” she asked, once he’d given the bartender the order—and, yes, there he was, ordering her drink again. “Also, I’m not sleeping with you.”

He laughed, and then he laughed some more. He didn’t get the hiccups, but he was definitely leaning on the bar. “Oh, man,” he said. “Way to shoot a man down. Except that I’m not exactly surprised. For some reason, I’d have sworn you thought it was important to go back to the room fairly soon here, not set a bad example. I’m pretty sure I’m the definition of a bad example.”

“Are you?” She wasn’t sure if she said it flirtatiously. It felt flirtatious, but Mark had told her she couldn’t flirt, so it probably just sounded like a question.

“Well, yeah. Usually. But it doesn’t matter, because you’re not interested.”

“That’s right,” she said. And crossed her legs. In her slippers. Which he watched. “Tell me about the bad mood. Did something happen? How could something happen? We’re in the middle of nowhere.”

“Exactly,” he said. “I thought that’d be good. Getting away, you know. But I’m feeling kind of like an ass— a jerk about something. Sorry. Minding my manners.”

“You want to know a secret?” she asked.

“I sure do.”

“I kind of love that, when a man doesn’t swear around you. Dyma thinks it’s ridiculous. No, worse. Dangerous. Double standard, treating women like they’re precious and delicate or something. She says, how can you ask for equality if you don’t accept equal treatment?”

“Mm,” he said. “Not too sure about that, maybe because I’m not as smart as Miss Dyma, but I’ll tell you something. I kinda love it too. When a woman doesn’t swear around me, that is. Could be I’m precious and delicate myself.” She got some more of that smile. “What do you think?”

She thought she was melting, that was what she thought. “I think,” she said, taking a sip of her drink through the straw and looking at him over the top of it, “that you still haven’t told me about the bad mood.”

“Oh, yeah. That.” He grimaced. “I made a promise. Feeling bad about breaking it.”

She sat up straighter and forgot about flirting. “I’m guessing there’s a reason.”

“Well, yeah. But then, you always tell yourself a reason. Doesn’t necessarily make it right.”

He wasn’t smiling anymore. She touched his forearm and said, “Maybe if you tell me, it’ll help. Tell the truth and shame the devil, my mom would’ve said. It means—if you’re putting the truth out there, the devil’s got nothing to use on you. I used to talk things over with her, and whatever she said, by the end of the talk, my mind would be clearer.”

He got more alert. That wolf again. “She’s gone, you said.”

She groaned. “I did. Oh, man. I told you about my dead mom. My boyfriend was definitely right. Former boyfriend. You’re right about that. We just broke up. He told me I didn’t know how to flirt and I didn’t know how to dress, and I didn’t know how to