Yep. Tersest.
“Are you okay?” heasked with that smooth, even voice that could not be ruffled or perturbed.
Ever so elegantly,I pulled myself from my tangled thoughts and replied, “Huh?”
“You seem tense,”he added.
Champagne forcedthe truth from my lips. “You make me nervous.”
His concentratedgaze found mine. “Why?”
Oh, how to answerthat loaded question. I tilted my head to the side, my long hair fell over myshoulder and I confessed, “Probably because the first time we met, you told memy style was juvenile at best.”
His eyebrows drewdown. “I didn’t say that.”
The truthstrengthened my courage and I added, “You also said that your clientele was toowealthy for my cheap taste, and that if I ever wanted to make it in this city Iwas going to have to try harder.”
His eyebrows dippedfurther. “That doesn’t sound like something I would say.”
I laughed. Icouldn’t help it. He looked so… affronted! “Are you serious? That soundsexactly like something you would say!” I felt myself loosen up in his arms. Hishand pressed tighter against my back, drawing me closer to him. “Youaskedmefor advice and then hated everything I had to say.”
“That’s not at allhow I remember it,” he countered, referencing the first time we’d met. Vera andI had made reservations atLilouand then waited sixweeks to get in. When we finally did, Killian had given us the five-startreatment, but Ezra had stopped by our table for all of five minutes. Just longenough to insult me. He continued, “I distinctly remember you calling me an oldman with dated taste and a tacky dinosaur of a website.”
I was positive myexpression was a mirror image of his, insulted, outraged and maybe, possibly alittle ashamed. “I wouldn’t say those things,” I countered. “I’m not thatbold.”
His laugh was hard,bit out with the barest amount of real amusement. “Molly, every single thingabout you says otherwise.”
Stepping back, Ipulled my hand from his and dropped my voice. “What is that supposed to mean?”
He didn’t toleratethe space between us, lunging forward and crowding me once again. “That you’renot only bold, you’re also a snobby know-it-all.”
My chin trembledonce, betraying me. I took another step back and willed my spine to straightenand my nerves to steady. It wasn’t that his insult had wounded me so severelyor that I really cared all that much what Ezra thought of me. But I had neverbeen great at conflict. Actually, I was kind of the worst at it.
Regardless of howright I felt or how zingy my insults were, the few confrontations I’d braved inmy life had always ended in tears—my tears.
It had been anissue all my life. Oh, how I desperately wanted to be tough, to stand up formyself with steely grit and relentless mettle. I would watch movies about girlfighters or women overcoming immense odds, and would pep-talk myself intobelieving I could be one of them. I would practice imaginary conversations inthe shower, coming up with the best comebacks.
But then somethinglike this would happen and instead of evolving into the empowered, tenacious,take-on-the-world boss-bitch I knew that I was, this wimpy, pathetic version ofmyself would emerge instead.
The tears were justthe icing on the tragic cake.
“You don’t knowme,” I whispered, not caring if he could hear me or not over the loud music andcelebrating crowd. I took another step back, anxious to flee before the tearscame and Ezra lost whatever remaining shreds of respect he had for me. Feelinga punch of misplaced courage, I added, “And you don’t know the first thingabout web design.”
His teeth slammedtogether making his jaw jump from the impact. I took two more steps backwardand he didn’t follow this time. I nearly stumbled when I ran into a body behindme and when I turned around and saw that it was Vann, I threw my arms aroundhis neck and hugged him tightly.
“Are you okay?” heasked in my ear.
“Now I am,” I toldhim.
Vann’s arms wrappedaround me in a rare hug and he squeezed me tightly. He was the older brotherI’d never had and even though we were rarely touchy with each other, I couldtell his protective instincts were already on high alert.
I tried to pull back,but Vann held me close. “Seriously, are you okay, Molls?”
Nodding against hisshoulder, I confessed, “Seriously, now I am.”
He absorbed mywords without asking me to explain. “Want to dance?” he asked after we’d beenhugging and swaying for long enough that people around us probably alreadyassumed that’s what we were doing—even though the music wasn’t slow, and I waswrapped around him more like a boa constrictor trying to swallow him whole thana girl trying to get with him.
“Yes, please,” Itold him, unable to hold back a single sniffle.
