Double Dare (14 page)

“And if it is?”

She’d kicked off her shoes, leaving her feet bare. The toe ring on her second toe distracted him, but then he told her the truth. “I’ll be bored by the end of the week.”

She opened and closed her mouth and finally settled on a sound of disgust. “I’m sorry―No. I’m not. If what you see is boring then that’s on you, not me. Just for the record—there is more to me.”

“What?”

Her face flushed with color and the line on her forehead deepened. “There’s nothing wrong with not bringing out your baggage for everyone to see,” she hedged. “People can be without drama or trauma, and there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“If it were statistically possible to have lived this long without drama or trauma, then there’s nothing wrong with all the above. You just wouldn’t be the woman for me.”

“Well, there you go,” she bit out. “You’re not the man for me. The perfect man for me wouldn’t call me fluff.”

“I didn’t call you fluff.” He spread out his hands. “Being surface level and fluff are worlds apart. The former just means shallow.”

She gasped. “Shallow? Surface level?”

“To me, yes. There’s a lot to be found on the surface. Fluff is nothing but foam. It melts under any heat and turns into that sticky crap you can never really get rid of.”

“Flattered.” Her tone belied the word.

“So,” he would have smiled, but it was inappropriate, “we’re just attracted to each other?”

“So it seems.”

“Attraction fades, but you hoped for more than sex,” Tobias said. “Right?”

“I did before I found out you thought I was fluff.” She practically growled at him.

“You’re not fluff unless…” He pretended to consider the next question by tilting his head to the side. “What would you do if your store suddenly went belly up?”

“I’d recoup.” Optimism colored her words. “Open up one of those corner stands. I’d need a fewer array of pastries, limited to cookies and muffins, but I wouldn’t cut corners on quality.”

“Why?”

“I do what I love. Yeah, the way I came to it was unconventional and a little depressing, but if you love something, you love it.”

He uncapped the water bottle, took a swing and dived back into the conversation. “That’s so black and white for you. There are shades of gray.”

“And why is that?”

“You can love something because focusing on it got you through a tough time.” Something he suspected the first time she told him about opening the bakery.

“Five years is a long time to hold onto something you really don’t love.”

“True,” he said. “But maybe you’re unaware of it. Or, because you’ve been doing it for five years, might as well keep doing it. Transition is a bitch.”

She made another sound of disgust. “That’s a lot to be unaware of.”

He stretched back, resting on his elbows. She turned so they were still facing each other. His mind backtracked to what she said. “What do you mean how you came to be a baker?”

“I told you already.”

“You glossed.” He prepared himself for the denial.

“I did not.”

Again, he had to fight the smile so he raised a brow instead. “You’re skating closer and closer to fluff, Mallow.”

She narrowed that golden gaze at him, and the heat of it fed the yearning. “You don’t bring up skeletons when you first meet someone.”

“Our first meeting I saw you naked, or are you glossing over the way we met? I bet you could.” He infused a jerk-like tone in his voice. “Just edit out all the dark parts in your life.”

“Are you trying to make me not like you?”

“Yes,” he said. He caught the surprise before she shut the emotion back down. He wasn’t going to say when Emmaline became aware of how much she liked him, she brought out the Stepford wife. She donned Emma who was sweet, nice and shy. Perfectly acceptable, but not half as interesting as Emmaline.

He pushed. “Are you going to answer my question?”

She inspected his face as though trying to see if he was playing some sort of game. A game she didn’t know the rules to. She didn’t. Her brow furrowed deeper, and he knew she was trying to put the day’s events in order to make some sense.

“What’s the point,” she began with a cautious tone, “of taking me on a date and making sure I wouldn’t like you by the end of it?”

He hadn’t ended up with the woman he asked, but Tobias met her halfway with the truth in his answer. “You’ll know who I am. Answer the question, Mallow.”

“My life hasn’t been one long stream of happy, but it hasn’t been the worst life a person could live.”

“So that means what you suffered through doesn’t matter? It shouldn’t be talked about, but forgotten and you should be grateful it hadn’t been worse?”

She looked at him like he was ridiculous. “How do you look at it?”

“I live in the dark stuff until the memory of what happened fades and it becomes less of an insistent memory.”

“My way is wrong, why?” She threw at him.

“Ignoring something doesn’t make it go away. It’ll still be there, lurking for a moment where it can climb over the mental block you put up.”

She put down her sandwich and picked up her phone. “You know that how?”

“I had to study the human mind,” he said. “It’s a quite interesting organ.” He frowned at her because she made a noncommittal noise but was still focused on her phone. “You getting off an exit?” he asked.

“As I said, you’re not my type though I find you incredibly…” Her gaze went over his legs, up to his arms and stopped at his face. His blood heated at the depth of want in the brief glance. “Tempting, but you are not boyfriend material,” she said.

His sex tightened, voice thickened. “We could be lovers.”

She licked her lips and then shook her head. “No, I’ll just go out with you, because you’re interesting. If I start to stray, I’ll have something to remind me.”

She handed him her phone. His entry was open. She’d deleted his e-mail and replaced it with [email protected].

He fought the laugh. “So no exit?”

“Not yet, but I think we need rules.” She lifted her chin, gaze narrowed. “I’m sure you’re good with those.”

“Are you implying I’m stuffy? A stick in the mud?” And she’d be partly right, he conceded.

“There is a worse way to put it.”

Curious now, he relaxed. “What’s the first rule?”

She ticked off one finger. “No physical contact.”

He didn’t have to ask if she were serious. “Unless expressly given permission.”

She gave him a look that implied never and not in this lifetime. “Fine. Second rule; since it’s like being a friend, just with someone dour and surly, it’s ok to see other people.”

“Unless there has been physical contact.” He could read her thought from the lift of a brow. “Do you kiss Sasha and Abigail?”

“Bet you would like to watch,” she said with a wry tone.

“Ah, there you’re wrong. Not into the girl/girl fantasy. Remember, I don’t like crowds. The non-answer means yes?”

She hesitated and finally said, “I don’t kiss them.”

“So it’s fair to say if you wouldn’t do it with Sasha and Abigail then it’s not something you’d do with me?”

She swallowed. “Yes.”

“But if you do, we’re no longer friends and as you remember I like to drink beer before a pissing contest.”

She tried for an indignant expression but failed with a twitch of her mouth. “You’re adding pork to my rules.”

“I used to enforce legislation and that type of stuff rubs off. More rules? So far these are easy to follow.”

She sighed and laid back on the cover next to him. He moved to his side, propped his head on his hand and looked down into her face. All angles and light. How could he not want Emmaline?

“Are you trying to break rule one already?” She sounded hopeful and that wasn’t wishful thinking.

The wind blew and the leaves rustled, blocking out the sound from the city below. “I’m not touching you,” he said in a sing-song voice.

“Cute. Third rule, third rule…” She frowned and pursed her lips at the same time, grooving the lines into her forehead.

“How about no matter the question, we’re honest,” Tobias said.

“That’s easy,” she said.

“You’d be amazed at all the little lies we tell every day.”

“You’re talking white lies that are universally accepted.”

“When I asked about your week you told me what you did, but not once did you say how you felt. Omission is just as bad as lying, if not worse. I don’t know how many times I came to give someone bad news about their loved one and they didn’t get the chance to say goodbye or to say I love you—” Gabriella’s face reared up and he shook his head to get her back out. “Or even I hate your guts. That last one is always interesting to see.”

“What kind of sick mind could think that’s interesting?” But there was laughter in her voice when she asked.

“It’s interesting to find out the why. People, despite some of the horrible acts they commit, are universally good at heart.” He hesitated and decided to re-word the statement. “Maybe not good at heart, but polite and considerate. If that fails, then social mores are bound to get them. So, no matter how much they couldn’t stand the deceased they’d find something nice to say.”

“That makes me remember my Uncle Lorenzo’s funeral. I was a kid. Every memory I had of him was drunk and mean. Well, when he died everyone only had nice things to say about him.”

“Funerals are for the living,” he said absently.

The world blurred and his mind drifted back to the last funeral he’d attended. Gabriella, brought down while on duty, had received a hero’s burial. The sea of blue and black swashes over brightly polished shields had been a sight to behold. Gabriella would have snorted, slapped a twenty in his hand and encouraged him to cry into a bottle of bourbon because he needed a vice anyway. The familiar ache at the memory didn’t dig as deep as it had. A twinge in comparison to when he first lost her. Time being one reason.

Tobias looked at Emmaline, the other reason why, and sighed before saying, “When someone dies all the irritating stuff that’s not really important doesn’t matter.”

“Maybe it’s both.” She took in a deep breath and stretched.

Her shirt hugged her breasts and he got lost in the sight of her nipples straining against the fabric. A raw, urgent need pooled in his gut. Much like the tug of want, much lower than his heart, he wanted to pull lightly at the tight buds with his teeth. Within seconds he could have leaned forward and curled his tongue around the puckered flesh through the cotton fabric. He could make her forget the stupid rules as she’d be too busy cradling his head against her breasts.

Unaware of his thoughts, she spoke again, “What wasn’t important after your parents passed away?”

The message was delayed, because a cool breeze made her shiver. And—he shook his head. “What I wanted, because I wanted it.”

“You went from self-centered to fair?”

“I wasn’t self-centered. I was inconsiderate.”

“We’re arguing word choice. Both ways you’re thinking of yourself first.”

“Little lies I’ve told myself.” He tested it out and saw that it fit. “I’ll give you that. It is a lie.”

“Which part?”

“That there’s a difference,” he said.

She nodded. “Before I can agree with the third rule, we need to decide if a lie we tell ourselves counts.”

He tsked. “They’re all lies.”

“It’s hard to accept the truth when it’s bashing you in the face. You’ve got other concerns like the broken nose.” She pointed to her pert nose. Emmaline placed the hand back on her stomach when she realized what she’d done. “Or looking at the signs of a concussion.”

There was the more he was looking for, so he relaxed on the blanket and ignored the show with her shirt. “I’ll give you that also.”

“Fourth rule: You can’t point out the lie unless the person wants to finally see it.”

“No good.”

She looked at him with baffled amazement and then chuckled. “Why?”

“How are you doing?”

Confusion knitted her brows, but she answered, “Fine.”

“Universally accepted lie.”

“It’s a throw away question.” She spread her hands out in dismay. “You really don’t want to know. It’s one of those things you ask.”

“So pithy of an exchange it might as well be minuscule talk. Why have it with someone you want to know or do know?”

“You have something against ‘tell me about yourself,’ too?”

“With you, yes. What’s wrong with ‘I’m doing wonderful’ or ‘I’ve had better days.’ Or,” he smiled, “‘I’ll be fine once you kiss me.’”

The comment made her look at his lips as he anticipated. He returned the favor and took in his fill of her. Plump, succulent and he knew her taste. The same raw yearning filled him again.

“The latter is your former conceit showing.” After the last word, she licked her lips, moistening them so that they gleamed and begged to be kissed.

“Former?” He stiffened to keep from leaning forward and giving her lips what they wanted. “What I want only became
less
important.”

Breathless and seeming to be lost in his gaze, she said, “What is it you want?”

Chapter Twelve

“To taste your bottom lip.” Tobias watched her teeth sink into said bottom lip. “We don’t lie anymore, remember?”

“Stop looking at my mouth like that.” She lifted his chin with her hand until they were eye to eye. He caught her wrist and she sucked in a breath.

“Actions can be considered expressly given permission.” He opened his hand and placed his lips on her wrist. Her heartbeat thumped rapidly against her silky skin. He let her go.

Emmaline hesitated, but placed the arm onto her stomach. “That’s a sub-paragraph to a simple rule.”

“These rules go both ways or no good. You felt we needed them. Have you changed your mind?” he asked, though Tobias was already thinking of loopholes.

“You’re thinking of loopholes,” she accused.

The observation caught him off guard, and he laughed. “I am, Mallow.”

“These rules are just to appease me, right?” She sighed. “But I like the idea that I can ask you any question and get the truth.”

“What will you do with such power?”

He wanted to know, especially from the way she’d finally relaxed. It showed in the languid way she rested on her back against the blanket, jutting out the delicious curves of her body. And, Lord help him, she wiggled her toes absently in the most adorable way. This was the Emmaline he’d asked out for a date. Sexy and sweet.