Don’t ever tell him that because I’d deny it, even if you offered me Chris Hemsworth covered in chocolate.
Okay, that’s BS, who could resist that?
“I’m just saying you’re a lawyer and you used the word lamest.” I cross my legs and catch his gaze drift in that direction. My breathing picks up just slightly.
“Excuse my vocabulary. Must be because I’m back here in Woods Parlor.” He says his town name much like people who make fun of small town people.
“I was just suggesting—”
“I know what you were suggesting,” he snaps. “I’ll pick up a dictionary while we’re in town.”
My jaw hangs open and I stare at the side of his face. Who the hell does he think he is to go and get all sensitive on me now? This is what we do.
“I get that you don’t seem to want to be here which only confuses me more as to why you brought me, but unless you plan on using a favor to treat me like gum stuck on the bottom of your shoe, stop deflecting your bitterness onto me.”
The truck jerks to the side of the road, and he slams on the brakes.
Thank goodness for seatbelts.
He swivels in his seat, facing me with an expression that could scare a mountain lion.
“Listen, I have no idea why I brought you here either.” His fingers thread through his hair. “It was wrong, but you’re here now. You’re going to see where I came from. How fucked up my childhood was. So let me just give you the lowdown now. I don’t have a father so don’t ask about him. My mom raised me when she wasn’t waitressing down at a bar where she screwed most of the clientele at one point or another. My sister, Allie, is the product of one of those one-night stands. Life here wasn’t squeaky clean or picture perfect, but we made do.”
We continue to stare at one another for a moment before I respond. “Do you think I’d judge you?”
He looks away from me and out the windshield. “You’re practically Chicago royalty.”
For the first time, Roarke is not the mean shark from the courtroom who facilitated the stealing of half my shit. The man who saunters around Chicago like he owns the city is no longer in this car.
“First of all, I’m not judging you. Second, I don’t judge people based on how they were raised—period. I understand how lucky I am to grow up with what I did. And if I made a habit of looking down on people, I wouldn’t have started my own foundation with my own money. If you don’t want me making assumptions about you, don’t make them about me.” I cross my arms and stare out the window.
Still nothing but trees.
The weight of silence presses down on my shoulders for a minute before his hand lightly covers mine. “I’m sorry. It’s just…there’s no excuse for me taking the bullshit overloading my brain out on you. In my demented head, I thought you being here would help you understand me more, but there’s ugliness in this town that I should’ve remembered. A past that still haunts me. But I apologize. Write the date and time of this right now because I might never say this again.”
I turn to look at him and tilt my head.
“You’re right. I can’t very well want you to see the true me if I’m assuming you’re like every other rich society woman I’ve met. I know your foundation, I know the work you’re doing and if I really thought you were like that, I would never have invited you along. Let’s start the day over, all right?”
My smile forms without a fight. “Fine.”
His hand squeezes mine and he straightens his back and merges out onto the road.
“Thank you,” I say.
“For what?”
“The compliment about my legs.” My cheeks heat.
His grin slowly spreads across his entire face. “You’re welcome. You wouldn’t be thanking me if you knew what I was really thinking.”
My face warms again and I bite the inside of my cheek trying to suppress my grin.
“One day I’m going to tell you exactly what that was—in great detail—ungentlemanly or not.”
I cross my legs hoping to stifle the hum of desire between my legs.
How am I going to survive two more nights with this man?
Chapter Sixteen
“I have to run an errand. I’ll be back before you can finish your breakfast,” Roarke says.
“Fine.” I sit down in the booth, picking up the menu placed behind the fake jukebox.