Not only does my jaw drop, but my entire body becomes one big blob of putty. “What are you talking about? I’ve seen you with them.”
“You’ve been staring into my windows at night?” he jokes.
“No, of course not.” I whack him gently on the arm. “I’m not a peeping Tom. But—wait—I don’t understand.”
He turns and faces me, resting one hand on the bed.Mybed. His bicep pops as it strains to hold him and all his muscles up.
It’s times like these that I wish I had a cleaning cloth and a bottle of Pledge in my hands. There’s nothing more distracting than cleaning when you’re about to dive into a hard conversation.
“I only take those women out with me to events. I don’t date them. I haven’t seriously dated anyone since high school. I’ll sayit a third time if you need me to,” he says with a twinkle in his eyes.
“But I don’t understand.” Wait. He said something earlier about there only being one woman that he ever wanted. Does he mean…? Nope. Not gonna even entertain the thought.
His lips tighten and he shakes his head. “I suppose that I’m just not good at dating. You ruined me for it.”
I frown. “That’s not true. If anything,youruinedme.”
“Oh? You haven’t dated much?”
“Devlin, no one here wants to date me because they all think that I’ll influence them into loving me.”
His expression falls as if he really, for once, feels pity for me. Well if we’re being all in our feelings here, I feel pity for me, too. Not enough to throw a pity party, but some.
“I’m sorry, Blair,” he whispers. “I never wanted that to happen to you.”
“That rumor?—”
“I didn’t start it,” he says harshly. “I don’t know who did, but it wasn’t me. I can promise you that.”
I search his eyes, looking for any hint that he’s lying, and I don’t see it. I’ve been so hard on Devlin, so terribly hard. Well, not really. I thought that he’d told the school about my curse—I meangift. But he hadn’t, and looking at him now, with his big hazel eyes lined with those thick, dark lashes, all I want to do is kiss him again. I want to run my fingers through his silky hair and wind the strands around my fingers.
But I want more than that. I want him.
Wait. What? Where did that come from?
Do I need to remind myself that this man is dangerous? Yes, I do. He crushed my heart once. He’ll do it again if given the chance. I know he will.
So I don’t give him my heart, maybe. But that doesn’t mean that we can’t be friends.
Friends. The seven-letter word that all people hate when they’re attracted to someone. No one wants to be just friends. But sometimes it’s better to be friends than it is to be enemies. And I’ve spent a long time being hateful and angry with Devlin, and apparently blaming him for something that he didn’t do.
Oh, he’d kissed another girl, all right. But that was back in high school, and people make stupid mistakes.
What I’d really blamed him for was humiliating me—something that he hadn’t even done.
Maybe it’s time that I bury the hatchet, and not in Devlin’s back like I would’ve done a couple of days ago, but bury it in the ground and forget all about it.
“I believe that you didn’t start the rumor,” I tell him.
“You sure?” he asks, rubbing that delicious mouth of his. “I’d hate to think that I’ve been forgiven for something when I really haven’t.”
“You have been. Let’s shake on it. To being friends.”
I extend my hand, and he stares at it for a beat too long. Oh gods, I’ve completely misunderstood this whole thing. He doesn’t want to be my friend. Maybe he’d rather go back to what we were—enemies with crackling sexual tension that will never, and I mean never, get resolved.
My cheeks are burning with humiliation. “If you don’t want to be friends, I understand.”
I start to draw my hand away, but he grabs it, surprising me and stealing my breath. My gaze cuts to his eyes, and Devlin’s watching me intently. He does not have the look of a man who wants to be friends with me on his face. I can’t pinpoint what the look means, but it doesn’t signify friendship.
