He shook his head, wanting to get the truth from her. “We’re not arguing. We’re discussing.”
The crease between her eyebrows became more pronounced and she released a heavy sigh. “You’re irritated with me. Why?”
He rubbed a hand over his beard and tried to tamp down his annoyance. “Because you don’t take me seriously.”
“I don’t take you seriously?” Her lips thinned and a rising color spoke of her growing temper. She crossed her arms, one finger tapping against a bicep exposed by the sleeveless dress. “I’m trying to represent you and in the best way possible. I’ve been working day and night to get you more sponsors and—"
He waved away her argument. She was evading his question, on purpose or by accident was yet to be determined. “That’s not what I mean. You’ve been blowing me off for two years.”
“Is that what this is about? The fact that I don’t want to date you in real life?” Frustration clipped her question, along with incredulity.
“No.” Yes. Crap. Erik backed himself into a corner. He should have kept his mouth shut. Except her ongoing rejection rankled, which was more about him than her. Damn it. “I get your reasons why but if circumstances were different and I’d asked you for real, would you have said yes?”
“I don’t think that’s a relevant question.” She averted her gaze. Palms tightening on her arms, she stared down at her feet. Long hair blocked her face from his view but he wasn’t ready to let the subject drop.
“It’s a straightforward question.”
She brought her gaze to his once more and shook her head, clearly uncomfortable. “Let me rephrase that. I don’t think I want to answer that question.”
“Why not? I’m a grown man, I can take it.” Erik hooked his thumb into the front pocket of his jeans and studied her expression. He’d been underestimated before and he’d come through. The situations had been different but the general principle was the same.
“It’s not about your age.” She pressed her lips together, hesitation in her stare.
“Then it’s a maturity thing? You think I’m immature.” It wouldn’t be the first time he’d been accused of that. People often labeled jocks stupid and he was no exception.
“It’s not my place to comment on your personal life.” Professional Belle was back. Cool and distant.
“This conversation isn’t client to agent. It’s between a man and a woman. I want you to speak freely. Your job isn’t at stake. I would never do that to you, even if you told me to fuck off.” He wanted to reach out and touch her neck, to trace his finger up the soft flesh until he cupped the nape.
“I think you’re reading too much into this.” The anger in her expression deflated and she uncrossed her arms, her hands falling to her sides. She shifted on her sandaled feet, leaned against the brick wall, winced and stood upright once more. “I don’t have time in my life for a man who’s not serious and that’s the truth. I haven’t had time to do much but go to college, raise my brother, and work.”
“I knew it. You don’t take me seriously.” He liked to bullshit a lot. It was a way of breaking the ice. Nobody would look out for him but him and he’d taken responsibility for his own career.
“I said serious as in a relationship. The first words out of your mouth when you told me about this gig was you weren’t interested in anything but a fling. We had a one-night stand. It was nice but that’s all it was.”
Nice? What a bland description. He wasn’t sure if he should be insulted or not. Nor did he know what he wanted from her. He just wanted more. “So, you’re saying that if I was interested in a serious relationship, you’d seriously consider it?”
“I’d never consider it because it’s never going to happen. So why are we even talking about this?” Her lips thinned and the corners turned downward. “Let’s just get through this show. I’ll turn on the jealousy and you can show your preference for Irina.”
And then what? He bit the words back. She’d made herself clear on the subject. “Are you certain you want that kind of reputation?”
“No, I’m not certain of anything. I—"
“There you are,” Tim said, breathless, the camera man behind him. Panic sparked his eyes. “Irina is waiting for you. I’ll take Belle to the car.”
Fuck. He wasn’t ready to let her go but he had no other choice. She’d turned him down. Again.
“Irina.” Belle sneered the name and pushed past him. “I am capable of taking myself to the car. Goodbye Erik. I meant what I said. It’s them or me.”
Belle was acting but her words resonated inside his head in a way he’d never in a million years anticipated. She’d taken up real estate in his head and it was impossible to evict her.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Belle drank from the pink straw and shifted in her seat on the patio at Kendra’s favorite Mexican restaurant. Unlike the last time, there was no Cash and Erik at the restaurant across the narrow street. He was at the pet fair. With Irina.
“Is the margarita too sour?” Kendra asked, sipping at her own.
“No, it’s good.” The drink was good. Her mood wasn’t. “Why do you ask?”
