Show Time (Juniper Ridge Romantic Comedies #1) - Tawna Fenske Page 0,79

the narrative in a way that shuts me out completely.

“I’m taking care of it, Vanessa,” he says slowly. “I didn’t want you to panic and do anything crazy.”

My teeth grind together as I stare at him. “Is there something you’ve observed that makes you think I’m prone to panicky, crazy outbursts?” I’m trying for sarcasm, but it comes out sounding like a real question.

That’s when I realize that I really want the answer. I need to know if that’s what he thinks of me.

My mother’s voice rings in my head, drowning out the thud of my heartbeat.

You’re too irrational, Vanessa. You’ll never have a head for business if you can’t stop reacting to things. Just find a husband and settle down. It’s the best thing for you.

Dean’s not answering, so I try again. “Seriously, Dean—if you think I’m not levelheaded enough to handle basic information about me and my family, then I can’t imagine you think I’m levelheaded enough to handle accounting for a multi-million-dollar development.”

A muscle twitches beside his eye, and I realize I’ve hit a nerve. I’m not sure which one, but there’s definitely something else he’s not telling me.

He also hasn’t answered the question.

“That’s not the issue.” He takes a deep breath and flicks a hand down the hall. “Can we please go into my office and discuss this there?”

“No.” My retort snaps out clipped and tense, but I’m tired of being handled. Tired of letting someone else decide where I go, what I do, what I know. “We can talk right here, Dean. I’m not letting you lure me behind closed doors so you can feed me platitudes or throw me off with those goddamn bedroom eyes.”

“Bedroom eyes?” He looks genuinely startled. “See, this is what I was afraid of. You’re blowing things out of proportion. I can handle all of this with a few phone calls. I swear, Vanessa—I have this under control.”

“No, Dean. You don’t.” My hands have started shaking, so I clench them at my sides, fingers curled into my palms. “I’m not a thing to be ‘controlled’ or ‘handled.’ This is my life we’re talking about. My family.”

He sighs like I’m twisting his words around, but he’s the one who keeps saying shit he knows will make my blood boil. He knows about my mother. He knows about every guy I’ve dated who’s treated me like a goddamn doll to be propped up in a corner.

I thought he was different.

“This isn’t about controlling you,” he says. “It’s about protecting you. When I saw you with that knife through your head—that moment before I realized it wasn’t you—I lost it, okay? All I could think about was keeping you safe.”

I know I should be flattered. I should be touched he’s sweet enough to care.

But all that is secondary to the fact that he thinks he has the right to manage and manipulate my reality. My life. “I thought you said it wasn’t a big deal,” I say. “A minute ago, you downplayed it as no big deal. Now it’s about protecting me?”

“Goddamn it.” He thumps a fist against the wall. “I’m trying to tell you that I care about you.”

“By keeping me in the dark?” I shake my head slowly. “I’ve had enough of that kind of caring to last a lifetime, thanks.”

He makes a noise that’s not quite words. More like exasperation. If I’m expecting him to apologize or back down, it’s not happening. “I’m the CEO,” he says. “It’s my job to look out for everyone. To ensure the safety of my staff and community members and family and everyone I care about.”

I can’t decide whether I want to hug him or slug him in the arm. “That’s an awfully big burden to pile on one person’s shoulders.”

“No kidding.”

“So, don’t!” I throw my hands in the air, exasperated all over again. “Let other people in, Dean. You have a team here. Smart, capable people, including me. Let us be part of things, especially when it involves us.”

I’m probably overstepping. This is about him and me, not his siblings and the whole crew. But dammit, I’m tired of having my engine throttled at every turn.

Shaking his head, Dean stuffs his hands in his pockets. “I’ve got it under control, okay? My PI knows a guy in the Paris field office who’s keeping an eye on your sister. And your bodyguard should be here by lunchtime today.”

“My bodyguard?” I blink at him. “Were you planning to tell me? Or were you just going