Several different expressions
flitted across her face but he knew what rolled around inside her
mind. He bent and whispered into her ear, “You can tell her
whatever you like. She won’t help.” She snapped him a look of
complete rage. He shrugged. “Don’t be pissy with me. What were you
expecting?”
“That you’d have dropped dead by now.” She held
death in the grip of her gaze.
He smiled. “I thought we agreed to peace?”
“If you remember correctly, I didn’t agree to a
peace of nothing.”
He didn’t respond. “Thank you, Miss Deveraux. It all
looks delicious. You’re free to go.” He gave her a nod and she
disappeared in through the swinging doors leading into the kitchen.
He went to the head of the table and sat down as his stomach
growled. Grabbing his fork, he dug into the thick breast of chicken
when he realized Bronte was still standing near the door with her
arms crossed over her chest. Peering at her over the meat, he
thought she looked like a child who was throwing a stubborn fit. He
set his utensil back down and sighed. “What’s wrong now?”
“I’m not eating,” she stated defiantly.
“Come and sit. Try a bite. Miss Deveraux is an
excellent cook.”
She shook her head, sending tendrils of hair
whipping around her cheeks. “No.”
“Bronte, think of the baby,” he encouraged.
“Are you a complete lunatic? I’m not pregnant nor
will I ever be by you.”
“Suit yourself, Bronte.” He got up and went to her.
He easily lifted her into his arms and started for the double doors
leading outside.
“Where are you taking me?”
“Outside,” he answered.
“I’m not going out there. It’s pouring rain.” He
felt her body tighten as she clutched at his shirt.
“You won’t melt. Plus, it won’t hurt you to get
cooled off.” He pushed open the doors and with her still in his
arms, he ignored her protests and walked out into the rain.
“No! Oh my…this is ridiculous.” She snuggled her
body closer to his as she wiped the water from her face. They were
soaked in seconds. He lowered her to her feet, but she made no move
away from him. She brought her chin up and her gaze narrowed.
“You’re even crazier than I first thought.”
The anger was gone from her expression. Wetness
dripped from her eyelashes and she was beautiful. “It’s okay,
Bronte. Life is about enjoyment. When was the last time you played
outside in the rain?”
There was hesitation. “When I was about seven. My
mother and I used to run and jump in puddles,” she said as her eyes
sparkled.
He laughed. “Come along.” He grabbed her hand and
pulled her into the yard. Their bare feet sloshed in the grass.
“Let’s find a puddle for you.”
“I’m not playing in a puddle, Roark.” She buried her
feet into the ground as if to prevent him from moving her.
“Here’s one.” He picked her up again and ran. He
dropped to his knees into the water and it splashed up onto their
bodies. For the first time, he heard her laugh and it made him
happy, something he hadn’t felt in a very long time. “Are you ready
to go back in?”
She nodded. Together, they walked back inside. Miss
Deveraux waited for them with warm towels and a look of disbelief.
“Roark, how dare you take her outside. She’ll catch cold.”
“We needed to lighten things up,” Roark said as he
winked at Bronte who was now frowning, although he could see she
tried very hard to hide her enthusiasm. “Let’s eat.” He sat down
and Bronte made her way to the extra plate setting. “You’re hungry
after all,” he said. “Admit it, our body needs nourishment.”
She didn’t even glance his way when she said, “You
can take your chicken, stick it up your ass and see if you can take
a flying leap off the nearest cliff.”
He wanted to laugh but he didn’t. No reason he
should inspire any verbal assault. And he found delight in watching
her dig into her food. They ate in silence, but it was a different
quiet than he’d
flitted across her face but he knew what rolled around inside her
mind. He bent and whispered into her ear, “You can tell her
whatever you like. She won’t help.” She snapped him a look of
complete rage. He shrugged. “Don’t be pissy with me. What were you
expecting?”
“That you’d have dropped dead by now.” She held
death in the grip of her gaze.
He smiled. “I thought we agreed to peace?”
“If you remember correctly, I didn’t agree to a
peace of nothing.”
He didn’t respond. “Thank you, Miss Deveraux. It all
looks delicious. You’re free to go.” He gave her a nod and she
disappeared in through the swinging doors leading into the kitchen.
He went to the head of the table and sat down as his stomach
growled. Grabbing his fork, he dug into the thick breast of chicken
when he realized Bronte was still standing near the door with her
arms crossed over her chest. Peering at her over the meat, he
thought she looked like a child who was throwing a stubborn fit. He
set his utensil back down and sighed. “What’s wrong now?”
“I’m not eating,” she stated defiantly.
“Come and sit. Try a bite. Miss Deveraux is an
excellent cook.”
She shook her head, sending tendrils of hair
whipping around her cheeks. “No.”
“Bronte, think of the baby,” he encouraged.
“Are you a complete lunatic? I’m not pregnant nor
will I ever be by you.”
“Suit yourself, Bronte.” He got up and went to her.
He easily lifted her into his arms and started for the double doors
leading outside.
“Where are you taking me?”
“Outside,” he answered.
“I’m not going out there. It’s pouring rain.” He
felt her body tighten as she clutched at his shirt.
“You won’t melt. Plus, it won’t hurt you to get
cooled off.” He pushed open the doors and with her still in his
arms, he ignored her protests and walked out into the rain.
“No! Oh my…this is ridiculous.” She snuggled her
body closer to his as she wiped the water from her face. They were
soaked in seconds. He lowered her to her feet, but she made no move
away from him. She brought her chin up and her gaze narrowed.
“You’re even crazier than I first thought.”
The anger was gone from her expression. Wetness
dripped from her eyelashes and she was beautiful. “It’s okay,
Bronte. Life is about enjoyment. When was the last time you played
outside in the rain?”
There was hesitation. “When I was about seven. My
mother and I used to run and jump in puddles,” she said as her eyes
sparkled.
He laughed. “Come along.” He grabbed her hand and
pulled her into the yard. Their bare feet sloshed in the grass.
“Let’s find a puddle for you.”
“I’m not playing in a puddle, Roark.” She buried her
feet into the ground as if to prevent him from moving her.
“Here’s one.” He picked her up again and ran. He
dropped to his knees into the water and it splashed up onto their
bodies. For the first time, he heard her laugh and it made him
happy, something he hadn’t felt in a very long time. “Are you ready
to go back in?”
She nodded. Together, they walked back inside. Miss
Deveraux waited for them with warm towels and a look of disbelief.
“Roark, how dare you take her outside. She’ll catch cold.”
“We needed to lighten things up,” Roark said as he
winked at Bronte who was now frowning, although he could see she
tried very hard to hide her enthusiasm. “Let’s eat.” He sat down
and Bronte made her way to the extra plate setting. “You’re hungry
after all,” he said. “Admit it, our body needs nourishment.”
She didn’t even glance his way when she said, “You
can take your chicken, stick it up your ass and see if you can take
a flying leap off the nearest cliff.”
He wanted to laugh but he didn’t. No reason he
should inspire any verbal assault. And he found delight in watching
her dig into her food. They ate in silence, but it was a different
quiet than he’d
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