He's on to something, and he knows it. He's a bloodhound who has picked up a scent, and there will be no relenting.
"I assumed you would send over a handyman if I told you."
"Fair. I would have. If you wanted to do it yourself, why didn't you consult the Internet? You would've had it figured out in no time."
I resist the urge to slink down in my seat. I sit tall, shoulders back, and ask, "Is there any chance you'll drop this?"
"None," he answers. "We've been close for a very long time. Tell me the truth."
"I ripped out my cabinets in the kitchen and in my master bathroom. And I pried the bathroom tile off the wall."
Duke winds through town toward my car, quiet. Instead of pulling into a nearby open parking space, he pulls into an empty parking lot behind Rowdy Mermaid. All the hairdressers have gone home for the day, leaving a dimly lit space with sparkling clean stations.
Duke cuts the engine and turns to me. "You're planning a wedding that is less than a month away and remodeling your house by yourself at the same time?"
"You sound like Peter," I grumble.
Duke nods slowly, scratching his chin thoughtfully. "Peter knows about your remodel? Has he seen it?"
"He hauled off the old cabinets for me. Obviously I don't have a car the right size to do it myself, and it saved me from having to hire a truck or a company."
"Daisy, I see two issues here." Duke holds up one finger. "The first is that you've done something impulsive like ripping out your own cabinets, and that's very unlike the Daisy I have known my whole life. The second is that you confided in a near stranger, instead of me." He points back at himself. "The guy you're preparing to marry."
I open my mouth to object, but he keeps talking. "I understand we're not in love. This marriage is something we're doing quid pro quo. But I'm still your friend, and you didn't tell me about the damage you did inside your house. You didn't want me to know, because...?" His voice trails off, and now I know it's my turn to speak.
"I didn't want you to know, because I didn't want you to ask me why I did it."
"Did Peter ask you?"
It's not the follow-up question I expected, and it unsettles me. "I told him to mind his own business. But not in those exact words."
Duke nods. "You don't seem to mind being feisty Daisy around Peter. Interesting, considering you keep it so concealed for everyone else."
"I feel comfortable around him."
"Is there anything else you feel when you're around him, Daisy?"
Well then. Just get right to it.
"I'm attracted to him," I admit, worry rising. It's the first time I've said the words aloud, so close to the first time I allowed myself to see the truth. It's a development Duke nor I saw coming, though it was shortsighted not to consider the eventualities of our agreement.
Duke's fingers drum the steering wheel. "I thought so."
A portion of my worry recedes. "What gave you the idea?"
"Your body language when you were standing beside him at the bar at King's Ransom. You looked…" Duke drags a hand through his hair while he ponders. "You looked like softening butter."
"I cannot begin to picture what you mean by that."
One side of his mouth turns up in a smile. "Sort of like…" He relaxes his body against the black leather seat. "All your muscles were loose. Languid. I don't know the right word."
"And Peter's posture? What did that look like? Compare it to a food."
He huffs a laugh. "Hmm. I'd say it was one of those fine dining dishes that a famous chef would callrestrained."
"What a cop-out."
Duke chuckles, a real laugh this time. "I don't know how to compare it to a food, but he looked like he was holding himself back."
