Something Like Hate - Harloe Rae Page 0,60

off his blank features.

“An island.” His random statement fills the void that had settled between us.

“Huh?”

A heavy sigh deflates his posture. “If I were to take a vacation, it would be a tropical beach surrounded by nothing but water.”

I tilt my chin down to hide the grin his answer brings. “That sounds nice. Private, I assume?”

“Of course.” He snorts, confirming that his arrogance has been restored. Not that it’s feasible for him to be truly vulnerable.

A snarky comeback waits on my tongue. I bite the surly barb off at the tip. “Maybe you’ll decide a getaway is in order and make it a priority.”

“I don’t like saying never.”

“Unless you’re talking to me.”

Landon is silent for a beat, his eyes searing me with a rare sincerity that I’m reluctant to describe. “I’m finding that harder to do as of late.”

I sip from my drink, if for nothing more than a distraction. He’s handing me a bargaining chip. That alone should be cause for giddiness to flood my system. Foolish though it might be, I find myself content to store that tidbit in a safe place. The atmosphere has shifted between us, and that adjustment—subtle or not—is too raw against my flesh. In this moment, I don’t want to compete with him.

A smile that’s soft at the corners greets his signature scowl. “Maybe we can be civil to each other after all.”

I keep my gaze locked on Vannah as she showers me with undivided attention. Being the sole recipient of her affections can do powerful things to a man’s ego. One coy grin is the equivalent of several solid pumps. I’m basking in the glory, and all it took was revealing a filthy stain in my past that’s better left forgotten.

Telling her about Yvonne was a calculated risk. I wish that scene was fabricated—or at least exaggerated. My father was a cheating piece of shit, plain and simple. Admitting to how his indiscretions have impacted me is almost worse than hearing him lecture me about our legacy. What a crock. Lingering smoke singes under my skin after rehashing the events from that day. Even in death, that bastard haunts me.

I’m lowering my shields in hopes that Vannah relinquishes hers as well. The likelihood of her trying to manipulate me is high, but the odds that I’ll fall for any foul play are zilch. She can believe this confession has left me exposed and sensitive. There’s no harm in letting her control the board for a while. Savannah Simons is a very real example of putting in the effort to reap the largest rewards.

The goal in all this is blurring. Forcing our proximity could prove to backfire worse than my previous attacks. She manages to weasel ahead regardless of my attempts. At this point, I’m enjoying her company and choosing not to overanalyze that. She’ll be gone soon enough and my predictable—albeit comforting—routine will return. Complications are only temporary.

Vannah settles deeper into her seat with a hum. Bearing witness to her sweet side is a luxury even I can’t afford to waste. She’s warm and soft, mine for the molding. I can steer this discussion in the direction of my choosing if her gentle mannerisms are any indication.

I reach for my coffee, sipping at the mug. “Comfortable?”

“Oh, yes. Probably too much. Look at all this legroom.” She kicks her feet for emphasis. “You’ve ruined me for future travel. Economy flights will never be the same.”

“I suppose you could use my crew for any trips. That would require you to rely on me, though.”

She rolls her eyes. “Not gonna happen. I’ll take my chances in coach.”

“Your loss.”

Her gaze roams along the empty seats across from us. “It certainly is.”

It’s difficult not to chuckle at her obvious yearning. “I won’t hold you to a final decision.”

Vannah’s gaze drifts back to me. When she peeks up from under her long lashes, fiery tendrils wreak havoc below my belt. “Careful, or I might mistake you for taking a shine to me.”

“Would that be so bad?” I widen my legs to hide any inconvenient evidence. Maybe I shouldn’t have been so rash in my decision to shut down her suggestion earlier.

She dodges my question with a squint. “I liked you better as a straightforward asshole.”

The smirk I’d been successful in masking makes an appearance. “Unfortunately for you, I’m trying a different approach where you’re concerned.”

She folds her arms, pushing her breasts up for my viewing pleasure. “Should I scoot to the edge of my seat in anticipation?”

“Only if

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