“Tiffany is displeased with me,” he said, tossing his hair out of his eyes. He was wearing jeans and a dark green T-shirt, very casual.
It was some kind of game to him. Or maybe he was just mocking me. But either way, I despised being made uncomfortable. It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t honest, and just because I was the hired help, and the poor girl to boot, didn’t mean I deserved to be treated that way.
“Tiffany doesn’t like being yelled at for no reason,” I told him, tossing his stupid use of third person back at him.
His eyebrows shot up. “You think that was yelling at you?”
I nodded, closing the door to the dishwasher and brushing my hair out of my eyes. Crossing my arms over my chest, I met his gaze, chin up, nostrils flaring. “No. But you said I’m annoying.”
“I did not.” He gestured to the sink. “All that banging around of pots, the water… it was distracting. You are not annoying. In fact, you are so not annoying that I want to talk to you, which is why the whole dishwashing thing was annoying. And you don’t strike me as the overly sensitive type.”
I didn’t think I was, but sometimes you can only be made so aware of your place before it makes you angry. “Everyone has feelings.”
“And I’m sorry if I offended yours,” he said quietly. “Leave the dishes. Come sit down with me. I demand your company.”
My eyebrows rose.
“I’m requesting your company,” he amended.
“Why?” I asked boldly.
“Because I want to hear what you have to say. I’m surrounded by vain and silly people all the time and I’d like to have a decent conversation with someone.”
“And you think I’m capable of that?” I wasn’t sure I was. It wasn’t like I had much experience talking to thirty-year-old men, but I did have an education and frequently made free with search engines. Part of me wanted to go a few rounds with him and see if I could hold my own. But mostly I was terrified I’d sound like an idiot.
“I think you’re capable of just about anything you set your mind to.” Devin shifted closer to me and for a second I could have sworn his eyes dropped to my mouth for a fleeting glance. I had to be imagining it.
But it wasn’t my imagination that he brushed his arm against mine when he reached around me for another cupcake. His eyes challenged mine as his tongue plunged into the frosting. “You survived growing up on that rock, didn’t you?”
Then he was gone, out of my personal space.
But the effect of it lingered in my body.
I had smelled him. Seen the stubble on his chin. Felt his hot breath. Watched his tongue dip suggestively into the creamy white frosting.
There was a burn starting deep inside me that he ignited, and I knew it was stupid, knew it was wrong.
So I met his gaze head on as he backed away, my voice steady. “Yes. I did survive. Sir.”
Something about the words drew him closer to me again. His head went slowly back and forth. “But at what cost? You’re not naturally a hard ass any more than I’m naturally an ass**le. Yet look at us.”
He put the cupcake up to my mouth. “Bite?”
“No, thanks,” I whispered.
“Come on. Wine for me, milk for you. Is that what you’d like? Milk and cookies, little girl?”
If he wasn’t naturally an ass**le, he was doing a damn good job of being one.
Moving past him I bumped my shoulder against his before stomping over to the island to grab my cell and go down the hall.
To my room. Alone.
Where I lay on my bed on top of the covers and clutched my pillow to my chest, wondering why Devin had come back to Richfield. Why he had dragged himself away from Brooke’s amazing abs to show up and ruin my contentment.
And to wonder if I would see Devin tomorrow and why my photo was being delivered via express mail to his isolated Maine compound.
The majority of my life I’d been wary, physically and emotionally protective of myself. The last month I’d had been able to relax my personal security system, had stopped doing figurative sweeps of the world around me with floodlights.
But now I felt not in danger exactly, just at risk. Of… something.
Falling for Devin. Losing control of my life when I had finally just achieved some.
My phone buzzed in my hand.
Figuring it was Cat, I was about to turn it completely off when I realized it was Devin.
My bark is worse than my bite. Good night, Tiffany.
All my anger disappeared. It wasn’t a direct apology, but it was contrition. For a guy who walked around having everyone kiss his ass, it was a big deal.
So I texted him back.
Good night. Devin.
Using his first name felt good. Intimate.
My Google Alert went off.
Apparently Amazing Abs Brooke had gotten into a confrontation at the Prada store with Gold Daddy’s ex-wife earlier that day. Entertainment news had the store video. You couldn’t hear what they were saying but it was clear that Kadence was the instigator and when she lunged at Brooke, Devin intervened, stopping her from hitting his girlfriend. He then appeared to be calmly and rationally talking to Kadence, even putting his arm around her when she started crying.
The video cut out, apparently the story over now that the women were no longer scraping, and I was sorry I couldn’t see the conclusion. Devin seemed compassionate, calm. Was that because he was still in love with his ex? Or was he a nicer guy than he liked to admit?
Or was I just trying to see what I wanted to see?
Either way, I was regretting my impulsive defection to my bedroom.
So I went back out into the kitchen, but it was quiet, dark. No sign of Devin or Amelia. I wondered if the Prada fight had been the catalyst for his early return to Richfield. The lights on the bottoms of the kitchen cabinets were on so the room was softly glowing. I saw the envelope sitting in the wastebasket and I fished it out, wanting to look at the pictures of Devin again. The beautiful women he spent time with. Remind myself that I was of no importance to him. He was being polite with me. He was bored. He was naturally curious. Nothing more.
But I flipped through the stack of photos twice before I realized one was missing. The picture of me.
He’d put one in his pocket. Had folded it up and slid it into his jeans pocket, right in front of me, and I had wondered at the time which one it was, and why. There were no other pictures missing but the one of me.
Devin had put me in his pocket.
I shivered, putting the envelope back in the trash and retreating to my room, shooting a glance towards the stairs, half expecting Devin to be standing there watching me.