The Healing Touch - Apryl Baker Page 0,18
someone from afar, but not so easy to hide feelings when they were less than two feet away. How was she going to get through weeks with him and not end up getting hurt? She knew how he felt about relationships. Hell, all his brothers did, for the most part. Well, not Viktor. Out of all six Kincaid brothers, Viktor treated women well and was always looking for his special someone.
She doubted Dimitri would ever look at her as anything other than a little sister, though. He’d called her his adopted sister for years. She wasn’t his type either. He preferred women who were a little more on the daring side, women who dressed seductively, not ones who were more at home in a pair of sweats and a ragged t-shirt.
“What’s so funny?”
His deep voice startled her out of her own internal musings. “I was thinking about the great war of 2013.”
His laughter filled the small enclosure, and she shivered. God, she loved the sound of his voice, his laugh, everything. It hurt to think about how much she loved him when she knew he’d never return the feelings.
“Italian still trumps Chinese. I never conceded that.”
“I like Italian as much as the next person, but Chinese is my favorite. Recently, I’ve started eating Indian food. Have you had it?”
He shook his head, keeping his eyes on the road. “Nope, never tried it. I’ll stick with American and Italian, thank you. Last time I had Chinese, I was sick for a week. It doesn’t agree with me.”
“You are such a wuss when it comes to trying new food.” She laughed at the disgusted look he threw at her. “You have the stomach of an eighty-year-old man, overly sensitive to foreign spices, and you get the runs faster than if you’d consumed a whole bottle of laxative.”
“Don’t joke about that.”
Oh, crap, she’d forgotten about his blowout at a speaking event he’d gone to last year. Four hours in the hotel bathroom. He’d only gotten through about half of his speech before he’d run off stage. What was it he’d eaten? Something Irish, or was it duck? Tweets and memes of him running still floated around social media occasionally.
She bent over laughing, remembering how his voice squeaked over the phone when he called to confess what happened so she could explain it to the host, but God, it had been hilarious. Not so much when she realized he’d called her while sitting on the toilet, but still, she laughed as much then as she was now.
“You are a sick, twisted woman.”
She laughed harder. Dear God, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d laughed like this.
“Just you wait, Rebecca Joyce. Payback is always a bitch.”
She’d probably end up with the runs so bad, she wouldn’t leave the bathroom for days, but she didn’t care. Seeing his face flame up was worth it.
“What should I expect at this signing thingy?” She continued to laugh at his very obvious attempt to change the subject.
“Did you read through all the emails the event coordinator sent out?”
“Um, no?”
“What about the ones I sent you?” He had to have read at least hers. She’d sent him dozens on the subject of his summer event tour.
“That would be a no again.”
“Are you serious?” She wanted to smack him but refrained only because he was driving. When they stopped for gas, she just might. Sometimes he really didn’t pay her enough to deal with him.
“It was the last thing on my mind until I got that pop-up reminder that I needed to be at the airport yesterday.”
“And you showed up at my door like a pissed prissy princess demanding she get her own way or she’d have a meltdown.”
“This prissy princess did get her own way.” He flashed her a sassy smile.
“You’re incorrigible.”
“It’s why you love me.”
God’s truth, there. She did love him because of his outrageous behavior.
“Have you ever talked to any of your author friends about their own signings?” She pulled the subject back around to safer subjects. Dwelling too long on her feelings for the man beside her would bring nothing good for either of them.
“Yeah, it’s why I originally wanted to do them.” He reached over and flipped the radio. The station they’d been listening to went to static. “Dammit, why is the only channel that comes in country?”
“There’s nothing wrong with country music.”
“Yes, there is.” He turned the radio off. “It’s all whiny music about losing everything.”
She swatted his hand away and turned it back on.