“This is a penthouse. Don’t penthouses have, like, multiple bedrooms?”
“This one has two. One of them is my office.” I kept my voice deliberately flat.
“Why didn’t you mention this yesterday?” Her voice rose an octave. “I’m not sleeping in the same room with you.”
“Don’t flatter yourself, Sunshine. I’m not sleeping in the same room with you either.” I leaned against the dresser. “I’ll sleep in here, and you’ll sleep in the office.” Because giving her my room would be the first crack in a dam I’d spent years building. One small kindness would lead to another, and another, until I forgot why keeping my distance was the only thing keeping us both safe.
Her attention swept to the door, then back to me. “But the office doesn’t have a bed.”
“It will by tonight.” The only reason I’d ordered the most comfortable mattress they had was because I didn’t want to listen to her complain. And the only reason I got three varieties of comforters was because that office could go from cold to hot easily. Had nothing to do with wanting her to sleep well. Nothing at all.
She swallowed, and I tried not to track the movement of her throat. “Look, I know this isn’t ideal, but I need more than one drawer. You have to be reasonable here.”
“Do I?” I stepped closer, enjoying the flash of uncertainty in her eyes. Except it wasn’t uncertainty. It was something else. A flicker of heat that made my pulse kick up. The same heat I’d seen when she’d put her hand on my chest.
She drew in a sharp breath through her nose, which was another thing I’d always found inexplicably appealing about her. The way she squared up for a fight, no matter the odds. “Yes, you do. Like it or not, we’re stuck in this situation, and the more you fight with me, the worse you’re making it.”
“Thanks for the TED Talk,” I quipped.
“I need more than one drawer,” she repeated.
“This is all I can spare. You can keep the rest in your boxes.”
Now her chest puffed up with indignation, and it took everything I had not to let my gaze drift down. She dropped the box she’d been holding and marched up to me, glaring with all the fury she could muster. Her tiny hands balled into fists at her sides.
It took everything I had not to let my lip curl up at how adorable she looked when she was angry. All fire and defiance, packed into a tiny frame of righteous fury.
God, she was so damn sexy. She barely came up to my shoulder—five-five to my six-two—but she had a presence that made up for it. Strawberry blonde hair caught the light, and freckles scattered across her fair skin like someone had flicked apaintbrush. She was toned in that yoga-instructor way, all lean strength, and those eyelashes... I’d spent weeks convinced they were fake before I’d gotten close enough to confirm they weren’t.
“Let’s not do what we’ve always done, Axel.”
“What’s that, Sunshine?”
“Fight. Argue.”
I forced a smirk. “You think I’m going to go easy on you?”
“So, that’s how it’s going to be?”
“What’d you think? I’d roll out the red carpet? As if pretending to be engaged to you wasn’t bad enough, now you’re going to infest my home.”
“Infest.” Her eyes narrowed to slits. “Wow. Nice word choice.”
“Get used to it.” I leaned closer, close enough to see the flecks of light green in her hazel eyes.
“Last chance,” she warned, lifting her chin. “I’m offering a truce. We both stop being mean to each other and muddle through this.”
“Or?” I raised an eyebrow, genuinely curious where she was going with this.
Based on the faltering of her expression, she hadn’t thought this far ahead. But Dakota Blackwood had always been quick on her feet. She straightened her spine, trying to appear taller and sharpened her tone.
“Or we go to war.”
For one dangerous moment, I let myself imagine choosing door number one. Calling a truce. Letting her in, even just a little. But I couldn’t risk it.
I leaned down, trying not to notice the faint smell of roses in her hair or the fullness of her lips. “Welcome to your battlefield, Sunshine.”
5
