He nodded. “Sure. How many people do you know who could write a book, put all their hopes, dreams, blood, sweat, and tears into a work of art and risk the world judging it?”
Wendy blinked several times, emotion clouding her eyes. “You’re not teasing?”
Without thinking, he reached forward and placed a hand on her knee. “No, Wendy. I’m not. I can appreciate the work and effort it takes to be a creator. I can understand the way fear can hold someone back from accomplishing that goal.”
Their gazes were locked for a few moments, shadows flickering across their faces from the crackling fire. Then she whispered, “Do you have a dream like that?”
Tripp shook his head with a chuckle. “No. I don’t think I have a creative bone in my body. But I’ve had friends who do. Girls I dated.”
One second, she was open and yearning for this… connection they had. And in the next she shut herself down. Wendy pulled away from him, forcing his hand to drop from her knee. He frowned at the loss of contact but didn’t comment on it. He had no business getting attached to her. She hated him. And he wasn’t supposed to fall for her, either. Sure, he’d tease her about it. He reveled in poking the bear that was seated beside him.
But a connection? The idea was laughable.
Or was it?
Shifting, he sat up a little straighter and turned so he faced the fire. “You start on anything yet?”
“What?” she asked.
“Writing. You have a manuscript started? That’s what they call it, right?”
She was quiet for so long he almost thought he’d said something wrong. And when he glanced in her direction, the hard lines in her features all but confirmed it.
“I don’t know why you would care.”
There she went again, making it so hard to just have a decent conversation. Still, those fleeting moments when he could make her smile had him fighting for another taste. Tripp sighed. “Maybe I don’t.”
That caught her attention. She didn’t look at him, but she did still her own fidgeting.
“Or maybe I’m a good person with dreams of my own. Maybe those dreams might seem strange or odd and I would rather not tell anyone than to share that secret and get laughed at.”
Slowly, her head turned and he could feel the heat of her gaze on the side of his face.
Tripp turned his hands so his palms faced upward. “And maybe since you don’t care for me at all, it would be easier for you to divulge something without fear of being judged because who am I to you?” He met her gaze. “And since I’m such a nice guy, I’d put up with your snark and spirit if you wanted to hash out what’s holding you back.”
“What makes you think I’m holding back?”
He could tell the question was supposed to hold some bite to it. At the very least, she’d wanted to gain the upper hand. Unfortunately, her words came out breathily and fueled by an undeniable longing for everything he’d just said. “Just a hunch.Dreams that take courage are the hardest ones to start because the fear of failure weighs heavier on your mind.”
Wendy released a shaky breath. “Yeah, it does.”
Tripp watched her, waiting for her to… what exactly? Spill all her secrets and confide in him? He hated just how much he wanted that—for both of them. Because if she did that, he had a strong feeling that he’d be losing a piece of himself.
Worst of all, that piece she’d be stealing wasn’t something he’d ever get back.
Her small, pink tongue poked from her lips. Then she worked her jaw, clenching and relaxing. Eyes darted this way and that before she heaved a heavy sigh. “I’ve started,” she finally confessed. “But I haven’t made it past the outlining stage. All the information is there. The characters. The setting. The plot. I just...” She lifted her eyes to the sky and dragged a finger beneath each one. Then she released a shaky breath. “I guess I don’t know what is holding me back.”
He couldn’t breathe. Not since the day he’d met this woman had she shown any sign of vulnerability. Not with anyone—and he’d been observing her every chance he’d gotten.
Saying the wrong thing would have her bolting. He couldn’t afford that.
Tripp cleared his throat and grunted as he got to his feet. “You’ll figure it out.”
Her eyes found his, shining with hope as if his word was law.
Winking, he shoved his hands into his pockets. “One day.”
Wendy’s mouth parted and a surprised laugh spilled from them as he turned and walked away. “I still hate you,” she called after him.
