Dead Pretty - Samantha Towle Page 0,11
incredibly rude of me?
He cleaned my arm up yesterday after Eleven scratched it. He didn’t have to do that.
God, I’m such a bitch.
If my adoptive mom could hear me now, she would be so disappointed.
Ashamed, I wince, my eyes closing briefly before opening back up. I look him in the eye. “That was really rude of me. I apologize.”
His eyes are watchful, appraising. Like he’s making his mind up about something. Quite likely me and whether he thinks I’m a dick. It would be no surprise if he thought I was a dick.
“Don’t apologize. It was honest. I like honesty in a person. And I agree; it is odd that we keep running into each other. Do you believe in fate, Audrey?”
Every time he says my name, I feel … shook. Like I was just swept up by a wave and tossed around in the sea, swallowing a mouthful of salt water just for good measure.
I shake my head by way of an answer. My mouth isn’t working right this second.
He grins. “Me either. We’ll just call it coincidence then.”
“I don’t believe in that either.”
His eyes move over my face before settling back on my eyes. “No?”
“Nope. Rarely is anything a coincidence.”
“Rarely?” he queries.
He’s so damn sharp. Picks up on everything.
“Never,” I correct.
“Okay. So, what is your theory as to why we keep running into each other?”
“Because you’re following me?” It comes out more like a question than a statement.
And laughter bursts from him.
He has a great laugh.
Deep and throaty. It makes him even better-looking, and until this moment, I didn’t think that was possible.
His blue eyes are alight with pure humor. “So, I’m stalking you?” he says, still laughing.
I shrug. “I don’t know. You tell me.” Surprisingly, I’m smiling when I say this, and stalking is definitely no laughing matter to me.
“No. I’m not stalking or following you.” He’s still smiling. His full lips tipped up at one corner.
I want to bite those lips.
And where the hell did that thought come from?
“I could say the same about you. That you’re following me.” His brow lifts.
And it’s my turn to laugh. “I’m really not.”
“No? Why should I believe you?” He throws back at me with a smile in his eyes.
“Ditto.”
“This could go on a while, huh?”
“Yep.” I stubbornly jut my chin out.
Another smile, this one actually on his lips. “Okay. So, why don’t we agree that neither of us is following the other? And I know that you don’t believe in fate or coincidence, but that doesn’t mean they don’t exist. So, we’ll settle on that. What do you say?”
I lift a shoulder. “I can … do that.”
“Good.” His voice is softer now, and his eyes linger on mine, longer than acceptable for two people who are barely even acquaintances.
I can feel things starting to heat and tighten inside of me. Things that have been dormant for a long, long time.
Things that have no business coming to life.
Still, I can’t seem to stop them or shut them down. And the longer I stand here with him, staring into his eyes, the harder it is to remember why I’m not supposed to feel anything.
“Go out with me? For dinner or even just a coffee. I still owe you one, remember?”
The words out of his mouth … the softly spoken words, said in that rough-sounding voice of his, are like being hit with hot and cold water at the same time.
They wake me up from whatever spell I was letting my hormones lure me under.
“No. I can’t.” I take a big step back from him. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. Shit.” He rubs a hand over his face. “It’s my fault. I misread things.”
The expression on his face. He looks … uncomfortable, awkward.
He’s probably not used to being turned down. A guy with a face like his … I can’t imagine it ever happening.
No woman in her right mind would ever say no to a coffee date with Jack.
But I’m not a normal woman.
I hate that I can’t have those things that I once took for granted. I hate that my life is this way. But it is. And there isn’t a damn thing I can do to change it.
I wish I could tell him that he hadn’t misread anything. I do. I would love to go out for dinner with him. When I was the old Audrey, I would have taken him on that dinner and more. But now … I can’t.
I won’t.
“I should go.” I start to leave, but he says