Mr. Bossy Devil - Lindsey Hart Page 0,32

that! This is bad! This is wrong!”

I capture Zoe’s hands gently in both of mine. As soon as I do, she melts against me, her sobs picking up steam until her whole body is shaking. I’ve always hated it when people cry. My mom used to do this weekly—cry like this. She had a hard run of it. Having zero luck with men, she worked a few different jobs and nearly killed herself trying to make ends meet. I’d see her crying about bills, about collectors calling, about the new guy who stood her up, and about how she was going to be able to afford to feed us for the week. Sometimes, I didn’t even know what she was crying about, but I always hated it. It made me feel helpless and powerless.

This is slightly different because Zoe isn’t my mom. She’s not my parent, and she’s not embarrassed because she’s the one who is supposed to be taking care of me.

“I was lost,” Zoe sobs. “I might still be lost if you’re lost, but at least you’re here. Y–you’re b–b–better than n–n–n–nothing.”

“Thanks.”

“I d–d–didn’t mean it like that.” Zoe pulls back, and I immediately miss the heat radiating off her body. Her face is flushed, her eyelashes are stuck together in wet clumps, and her eyes are red-rimmed. Her nostrils are still flaring wildly, and when she swipes a hand over her cheeks, she smears a little bit of snot with it.

Despite all that, she’s still gorgeous, and it’s tugging at something other than my balls to see her like this. It feels like my chest is getting stomped on by a pissed off llama. I don’t know exactly what that would look like, but I imagine it’s not pretty. They’d probably take a good chunk out of you. Or, you know, stomp on you just to prove a point.

“I know. And I’m not lost. I know exactly how to get back.” I hope that’s true. I have a pretty good sense of direction, and I did pay attention to the path while I was trying to catch up to Zoe.

“Ugh.” Zoe swipes at her cheeks again. She’s wearing a plain black tank and a set of jeans cut-offs that are ridiculously sexy. She chooses her tank to wipe her hands on. “You must think I’m a crazy person.”

“What you said before,” I start cautiously, “about not being in control and about you not knowing if you even wanted to be in control…”

Zoe’s cheeks turn an even deeper shade of scarlet. “Oh. That…never mind.”

“I can’t never mind. I heard you say it. That you didn’t know what was happening, but you weren’t sure you wanted to stop it.”

“I—”

“I feel the same way.” I swallow hard. Now I’m the one who isn’t sure what’s happening. I might get a roundhouse kick straight to the dick right away. Or maybe that’s more of a sliding kick. An uppercut? A straight-up punch? Clearly, I don’t know my karate, but I’m fully aware any of those options would fucking hurt.

“You…you…”

“I can’t just erase you. I did think about you—all the time—but ever since I saw you in that boardroom, I can’t stop. I can’t sleep, and I can’t think properly anymore. All I think about is you.”

“Gross! Does it include thinking of me in the shower or…”

“Yes.” Grinning at her is easier than trying to profess my feelings here. Feelings I’ve never felt for anyone. Feelings I’m not even sure how to describe because it’s been like all of two seconds since we met again.

“So, what you’re trying to say is you’re attracted to me. And it’s weird. Because of who we used to be.”

“I guess so.”

Zoe angles away. She glances towards the clearing, this time like she might be hoping for an angry mother bear to come charging out at us, just to save her. “I…that is…you’re not…I’m not…this isn’t…it’s not…err…I…”

I step closer so I can brush my hand down her arm. Zoe nearly jumps out of her skin, but then she just stands there, shaking on the spot, her red-rimmed eyes darkening and her pupils getting huge.

“I messed up last time. Honestly, I’d take it as a compliment, but I promise it won’t happen again.”

“It won’t because it shouldn’t. It…it…just isn’t…”

“What? Right, because our parents were married for a couple of years? Because we used to be friends? Friends turn into lovers all the time.”

“Which usually ruins the friendship,” Zoe gasps.

“Which is fine because you profess to hate me, so I’d