His grip is iron. “Not until you tell me you understand.”
“IunderstandI barely know you, and what I know, I don’t like. And if you don’t let go of me right this moment, I’m going to scream bloody murder, cop or no cop.”
Cooper’s eyes narrow. I glare right back at him. But he doesn’t let go.
And so that’s what Donovan sees, when he comes around the corner: Cooper holding my hand, the two of us inches apart, locked in an intense stare-down.
Freaking fantastic.
Chapter
Thirty-Six
The scowl Donovanlevels me with when he sees me with Cooper could freeze hell over. But by the time I manage to yank my hand out of his asshole brother’s, he’s long gone.
I resolve to explain—somehow—when we’re at the retreat together. The whole time I pack, following the instructions on Ethan’s assistant’s comprehensive list, I try to figure out how. It’s probably for the best: the more pissed off Donovan is at me, the less our combustible chemistry will matter to him, even if we’re stuck atop a mountain together. I just don’t want him to be angry at me over a lie.
The good news is, all night long, no one shows up on my doorstep to yell at me or deliver disturbing revelations about my life. No one posts more photos of me and Donovan in a compromising position, and despite Charlotte’s gleeful texts, I ignore the comments on the #ronovan Facebook post. (Thanks a lot, D’Andre.) No premonitions ambush me all night or on the drive up to Granville Falls, where I blastBorn This Wayin defiance of my fate.
The retreat center is gorgeous, located atop a mountain with stunning views in every direction, rustic log cabins, andsprawling meadows edged by woods. In my room, I tuck my jeans into the dresser and stow my toiletries. Then, at ten on the dot, I walk into the main lodge.
The first thing I see is Donovan, standing in front of the wall of windows that overlooks the mountain backdrop, backlit and looking unfairly handsome. He’s wearing a forest-green Henley, which clings to his chest in ways that ought to be illegal, and his jaw is clenched, Heathcliff-on-the-moors-style.
Swallowing hard, I force myself to take in the rest of my surroundings. There are twelve of us total—ten employees, plus Ethan and the facilitator. I only know two of them: Georgia, of sex-spreadsheet fame, and Jill, who once called Donovansexy as sin but cold as ice.He lives up to his name, stubbornly refusing to so much as look in my direction.
I need to apologize to him. But this isn’t the time. Instead, I give myself strict instructions: 1) Observe all attendees closely for suspicious behavior, 2) Explain to Donovan about Cooper but do not kiss him, no matter what, 3) Try not to humiliate myself in spectacular fashion.
And then, because God hates me, the first team-building exercise I have to do on the retreat is the human knot…with Georgia, Jill, Dean from IT, and the Ice Man himself.
“Here’s the deal,” Rosa, the chirpy retreat leader, says from the front of the room. She looks like she’s lifted straight from a Disney movie, her blonde hair scraped back into a perfect ponytail and her brown eyes bigger and shinier than eyes have any right to be. I half-expect little birds to start buzzing around her head. “Each of you grabs the left hand of someone across the circle from you, using your own left hand. Then you do the same thing with your right. After you’ve done that, your goal is to use verbal communication to disentangle yourselves, so that you wind up in your original circle. There’s only one rule: you can’t let go.”
I gape at her, dismayed, but it’s Donovan who speaks. “You want us towhat?” he says, each syllable a gravelly scrape of horror.
“I’ll demonstrate.” Rosa bounces in our direction like an overly caffeinated, Sephora’ed kangaroo. “What’s your name?” she says, coming to a stop next to him.
Donovan looks even more horrified than before. “Donovan Frost,” he mutters, so low she has to ask him to repeat himself.
When I first met Donovan, I would’ve thought he was just being an ass. But now, I know he’s shy. A day of icebreakers and forced teambuilding is basically his worst nightmare. Add in my presence, and he’s entered the ninth circle of Hell.
I feel awful for him. And I feel even worse that I can’t show it.
“Okay, Donovan!” Rosa chirps. “This is how it works. You—what’s your name?” And then, of course, she points right at me.
“Rune,” I say, a familiar, encroaching sense of doom creeping over me.
“Super groovy,” Rosa says, beaming with delight. “Okay, Donovan! Raise your left hand, reach across the circle, and take Rune’s.”
Donovan closes his eyes, as if he’s commending his soul to God. “Is that really necessary?”
“I understand you’re uncomfortable,” Rosa says, patting his shoulder. “That’s normal. But if you just let go and surrender to the process, it’ll transform you. You’ll see.”
“I’m notuncomfortable.I just think this is…” For once, his expression is completely transparent to me. I can see him sort through and discardtotal bullshit, a waste of time, the worst moment of my professional lifebefore he settles on, “…not for me. No offense. I’ll just sit this one out and?—”
“Not happening, Frost,” Ethan calls from across the room, his grin matching Rosa’s. “This is exactly why you need to be here. Now come on. Go with the flow.”
Maybe Ethan’s the one I ought to be investigating. No one should be that happy all the time. And God knows you’d have to be low-key Satanic to organize one of these retreats. But what kind of criminal mastermind spends his days running a tech company in a tiny town, talking like a surfer boy and collecting Marvel bobbleheads?
Looking like he’d rather be getting a root canal, Donovan braces himself, reaches across the circle, and takes my hand in his. His skin is warm against mine, his thumb sliding against my palm and his fingers skating across my knuckles, as if they belong there.
