“What are you doing here?” Her eyes dart around, near to panicking, which doesn’t make a ton of sense.
“I wanted to talk to you.”
She pulls back. “Leave me alone.”
“What’s the matter?”
“My dad—“ She stops herself, biting back whatever she was about to say.
But I know.
God damn it,sheknows.
“I wanted to talk to you first,” I start saying, but she’s already hurrying away, bag clutched to her chest like it’s a life vest. I stride after, keeping pace. “Just hold on.”
“I don’t want to see you right now.” She doesn’t look back, just ploughs forward, head down. “Leave me alone, Liam.”
“Hold on.” I grab her wrist and pull her back, stepping sideways to get out of the main clot of people trying to jam their way down the subway steps.
She yelps and whirls. “Get your hands off me.”
“Just listen, damn it. I can explain. It wasn’t?—“
She wrenches, but I hold tight. Her lips are pulled back in a snarl. “Get your hands?—“
“Hey, you okay?” A guy in a vest over a button-down dress shirt slows. His brow furrows and he takes out an earbud. “You need some help?”
I hold his gaze. “If you’re as smart as you probably think you are, I’d start walking.”
His face pales and his eyes dart to Regan.
“I’m fine,” she hisses at him. “Just leave me alone.” She rounds on me. “Bothof you.”
The finance bro shakes his head and walks away. He probably had some fantasy about helping a damsel in distress, but when he got one look at an actual monster, decided it wasn’t worth the risk.
Fucking coward. I would’ve beaten him to death right here in the street, but at least I would’ve respected him.
“Come have dinner with me. I’ll explain myself. We can talk, Regan, and be reasonable about this.”
“Reasonable?!Talk?!” She laughs maniacally. “Are you out of your mind? Just leave me alone, okay?”
“We’re going to get married,” I say quickly, pulling her close. I breathe her smell and a thrill claws into my chest. Fuck, she hates me so much right now, but all I can think about is crushing her lips with my own. What the fuck is wrong with me?
“I know,” she says harshly. “You arrogant asshole.”
“One meal. That’s all I’m asking. You still want to treat me like this is my fault afterward, then fine, you can blame me all you want. But we’re still getting married and we might as well start dealing with it now. So please, would you have dinner with me?” I draw her closer, struggling against a wave of adrenaline. “We can call it our second date.”
Her expression turns appalled. God, I love that. “Seconddate? I didn’t know we had a first.”
“Nothing brings a couple together like arson.”
“You’re delusional, you know that?”
“I’m sure there’s a psychologist out there getting hard thinking about all my diagnoses. Have dinner with me.”
Her lips twitch. It’s not exactly a smile, more like a grudging scowl, and she casts a longing glance over her shoulder toward the subway stairs. But eventually she nods. “When we’re done, we’re not doing this again.”
“Doing what?”
