Bad Boy (An Indecent Proposal) - J.C. Reed Page 0,34

hair into my face, and I pushed the strand behind my ear. His eyes softened.

“What? Is that really so hard to believe that I might be developing feelings for you?” Chase asked.

There, he had just said it. All of a sudden, my world began to spin.

“I don’t know.” I swallowed. “It’s hard to believe. I’ve been… I don’t think—”

God, what was happening to me?

I couldn’t finish sentences whenever he was around.

“Laurie.” He breathed out an impatient sigh. “You’re beautiful. Why is it hard to believe that I like you?”

Because I’m nothing like you.

“I’m not confident. I’m not…” I struggled for words.

Perfect.

Godlike.

God, I had to stop before it got out of control. There was something about his penetrating stare that threw me off. Or maybe it was his touch—gently and warm, and completely out of place—that my whirling thoughts couldn’t formulate one single sentence. Whatever it was, it had to stop.

Withdrawing my hand from him, I took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

“You don’t have to be confident,” he replied. “I like you for who you are.”

“Why did you marry me?” I asked. My question was meant to be casual. Instead, it came out like an accusation.

There was a long pause.

“Because I had to,” he said at last.

There was something in his voice: hope that I would believe him. Hope that I would forgive him even though his words were the painful beginning of a longer story. I scanned his face and saw the despair etched in his features.

“Is it because of the money?” I asked.

“No.” He shook his head, his frown deepening, and I knew, whatever the answer, whatever explanation he would give me, I wouldn’t like the truth. And he knew it. He knew I knew, judging from the way he couldn’t even look me straight in my eyes, and kept delaying the inevitable.

Everything inside me burned with the knowledge that if he had wanted, he could have disclosed his reasons back at the hotel.

That he didn’t, that he couldn’t do it now, didn’t just bother me.

It confirmed to me that whatever he had to say was going to be difficult—for both of us.

Heck, I wasn’t sure I was ready to hear it.

The entire situation was worse than facing my stepfather.

It was splitting me into two.

“I wish things could be different,” he said and turned his attention to the ocean. I did the same as I let go of my thoughts and him.

Sitting so close to the railing overlooking the shore, the sight was beautiful. The blue water stood in contrast to the sand, my dark feelings and the despair that seemed to rise within me, reminding me that this was only a fleeting moment in our lives.

Everything felt surreal—the sparkling water, the warm sun on our faces, the excited chatter all around us. For a moment, it felt as though it wasn’t my life, but someone else’s.

“It doesn’t matter anymore. I’m—” My words were interrupted by a waitress stopping at our table.

“Quiere algo para beber?” the waitress asked.

I looked into her friendly face, ready to ask whether she could speak English. But Chase replied.

“You can speak Spanish?” I asked after she left.

“I wish I were fluent,” he said. “But I only throw in bits of phrases here and there to impress.”

As if he needed to impress when his body already did the work for him.

“Have you been here before?” I asked warily.

“No.” He leaned forward, his eyes watching me with renewed interest. “What was it that you wanted to say before you were interrupted? You said that it doesn’t matter anymore.”

He had been listening. I didn’t expect that. “I can’t remember.”

It was a lie.

But he couldn’t know the truth.

It doesn’t matter anymore. I’m already in love with you.

Chase was a weakness I couldn’t have in my life. My feelings for him would always make me an easy target.

I might be gullible, but I wasn’t weak. Before I could change the topic, the waitress arrived with several plates. As she spread out the varied delicacies and arranged the plates in what seemed to be a specific order, I stared in surprise at the array of food.

I raised my brows at Chase and he smiled, the skin around his eyes crinkling.

“I took the liberty to order and paid for it before we came,” he clarified. “This place can be quite busy. I didn’t want to keep you waiting.”

“You didn’t have to,” I said and helped myself to a plate.

“It was my pleasure. Can’t afford to disappoint my wife.