Stay(24)

“We’re old friends—”

“No, we’re not old friends.” She snaps.

Okay, perhaps not. I think through all my reasons from earlier today on my walk.

“Our families have known each other forever. I like your son. I have the space…” The tension in my stomach turns to anger. “Why are you being so stubborn? Your dad helped people in need.”

“So none of this is about me?”

“Indirectly, I suppose—”

“I meant about sleeping with me.” She gives me a look.

I actually laugh. “Definitely not. You’ve been a harpy ever since we ran into each other.”

Her jaw drops, and she steps forward to shove my arm. “Bastard. I have not.”

“You have.”

“I’m sure any woman who hates you is a harpy.”

“You keep saying that.” I put my hand on the doorframe above her head and lean down, closer to her face. Our warm breath mingles, and I know she feels our chemistry. I’ve been fighting it for two days.

“Tell me why you hate me.” My voice is low and smooth.

She jerks her chin away, clearly flustered. “I’m not having this conversation with you.”

I chuckle. Flustering her sassy little ass might be my new favorite thing.

I’m ready to challenge her when the buzzer sounds downstairs. Our eyes meet, and we say at the same time, “Food.”

Paper bags with the Burger & Lobster logo are spread all around us on the oversized bar in my kitchen. Emmy’s on a barstool picking chunks of lobster out of a Kaiser roll while I uncork a bottle of Sangiovese. A beast burger is on a plate in front of me.

“Mm!” She nods around her bite. “This was always my favorite place. How did you know?”

I put a fresh glass of the dark red wine in front of her. “It’s everybody’s favorite place.”

“Burgers and lobster. I was expecting something a little different from you.”

“Don’t start with the whole I can’t believe you eat hamburgers crap.” I swirl the wine in my glass, letting it open, before setting it down and picking up my food. “I’ve known you longer than that.”

“Excuse me.” She makes big eyes as she takes a sip of wine. “I only meant I expected something fancier for my seduction dinner.”

“This is not a seduction dinner.”

“It’s not?”

“No.”

“That’s disappointing.” She snorts and drinks more wine. “So all this ‘move in with me’ really is about your concern for my welfare?”

“It’s more about your kid.” I take another bite of burger. “If I wanted to have sex with you, I’d have sex with you.”

“Is that so?” She puts her glass down, eyes narrow. “Whether I want to or not? Have you heard of Me Too?”

“Yeah, and you want it, too.” I sip my wine, keeping my eyes fixed on hers.

“I don’t know how we got onto this conversation.” She blinks away and picks another chunk of lobster out of the Kaiser roll.

“Sounds like the cry of the defeated to me.”

“You wish.”

I laugh. I swear, she’s always been this way, feisty, cute.

Her hair is still in that ridiculous bun on the top of her head, and she still has that white shirt over her black dress. She’s not cute. She’s beautiful.

“What happened with Burt?” I can’t help my curiosity. “Other than he’s an idiot.”

“Haven’t you heard? I’m a harpy.”

“No.” Shaking my head, I take another sip of wine. “The harpy thing is new. Why did you leave him? I’m certain you would have tried to make it work. For Elijah.”

She cuts her eyes at me, then unexpectedly softens. “He couldn’t handle Eli’s condition. He was embarrassed to have a son who wasn’t a big-time jock like he was. We fought constantly. Next thing I knew, he was sleeping with Peg.”

“Peg, the bug-eyed home wrecker.” I take another sip of wine, thinking. “So Elijah blames himself for what happened?”

“I don’t think so… God, I hope he doesn’t.” Her chin drops. “I did my best to shield him from it.”

“He’s smart, though.” I think about myself growing up. I knew everything that went on in my house, whether the adults told me or not.

“Why are you doing this?” Her voice rises, angry. She rocks back on the barstool, circling a finger in front of me. “You go from not giving a shit about me to now you’re so interested in my welfare?”

That does it. Placing my wine glass down, I round the bar to stand in front of her. “When did I not give a shit about you?”

Her brow lowers, and she pushes against my chest. “You took what you wanted, and you walked away. Now you’re trying to do it again.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m trying to help you. I’m not trying to take anything.” I’m between her legs now tugging on the knot in that white shirt. “Except this. Take this off.”

The knot slips open, and the shirt falls down her arms, leaving her in only that black knit dress that hugs her body. “Stephen…”