"Did what hurt?" He narrows his right back.
"For you to think."
"Very funny."
I motion, like I'm sayingcontinue.
"It makes meponderthe possibility that you're having feelings that are less than joyous. Magical." He frowns at the word, as if it has a sour taste. "Whatever else a person who is getting married is supposed to feel."
I cross my arms. I do not appreciate how deeply Peter is looking into me right now. I feel exposed, and I don't like it. I also can't understand the way Peter seems to know me, in a way no stranger should.
"You know what I think?" I twirl a finger in the air between us.
"Lay it on me."
"I think you hate love."
"Wrong."
"Right."
"On what are you basing this?"
"You become perturbed every time I mention Duke, or my engagement, even—" I hold up my hand when Peter opens his mouth to argue, and he pauses whatever it was he was about to say.
"Even on the first night I met you," I finish. "So it must not be Duke or my engagement that bothers you, because there wouldn't be a reason for either. It's love that bothers you. Or the concept of it." My lips curve into a smug smile.
"Now who's acting like they know somebody better than they really do?"
I step closer, lifting my face in challenge. "Tell me I'm wrong."
"You're wrong." The baritone of his voice floats down over me, a conviction I can almost feel. He's either telling the truth, or he's a fantastic liar.
"Then what is it?"
"That"—he winks—"is a story for another time." He walks backward until he's standing beside his truck door. "There's a lot that still needs to be done in your home. Are you planning on handling that by yourself?"
"Sure am." Except I don't know a damn thing about how to fix what I broke. I'm better at demolishing than I am at building, but I won't be admitting that to Peter.
He opens his truck door and pauses in the open space, staring at me with shrewd eyes. "You're lying."
"One hundred percent yes."
He barks a sudden laugh. "That's what I thought." His eyes flicker toward my house. "I can help you, you know."
"I thought you were only here to clean out the Bellamy house and sell it."
"I am."
"So why are you taking a special interest in helping me?" I point harshly, a stern set to my eyebrows. "Don't you dare call me a damsel in distress."
"I would never, Sunshine. Except you are a damsel, and the state of your home is very distressing." He scratches his eyebrow, glaze flickering to my house. "There's still a destroyed kitchen in there."
I roll my eyes. "I'm not going to let you work for free though. How about we exchange services? I will no longer charge you for physical therapy appointments, and in exchange, you will help me remodel."
"You have yourself a deal." He walks halfway across the space separating us, hand extended.
I close the space, placing my hand in his.
