It's About Time (Blossom Peak #4)(43)

“That won’t be necessary,” I say, clearing my throat before taking a sip of my water. “So, what rules shall we institute to keep your blood pressure in check?”

Elliot reaches into his pocket and then holds his hand out with a black silicone ring pressed between his thumb and forefinger. “Here.”

My lips purse in confusion. “What’s that?”

“This is your engagement ring, remember? The one we told Tori that you left at the shop yesterday?”

“Oh. Uh, yeah.” Taking the ring, I squeeze it a few times. “Hey, that’s kind of cool.”

“Please don’t break it. I mean, it’s not expensive to replace, but…”

I awkwardly slide it down the ring finger on my left hand, curling and uncurling my fingers to get a sense of how it feels. “I could have bought one myself.”

“Well, since your memory isn’t great, I figured I’d take the lead on that detail.” He draws a line through something on his notepad and looks back up at me. “And it’s black, just like your soul, so…”

I flip him off before muttering, “Trust me, my memory is just fine, Elliot. I remember shit I wish I could forget.”

He squints at me for just a second, then returns his attention back to the paper. “Right. So, we can start with a few rules I took the liberty of drafting up.”

I reach over and place a hand on his knee, feeling him stiffen under my touch. “You’re not at work right now, Thorne. I told you to loosen your tie a little bit.”

“I’m not wearing a tie.”

“Jesus,” I say, retracting my hand while rolling my eyes. “Are you always wound this tight?”

“Are you always this argumentative?”

I huff out a laugh. “You should know the answer to that question already.”

“Ditto.”

We stare at each other and then Elliot breaks eye contact, tapping his pen to the paper. “Rule number one, no more sexual innuendos in front of anyone.”

“I’m sorry. What the hell do you mean by that?”

“Spinning your bra around your finger in front of Tori and my dad? Yeah, that doesn’t need to happen again. I’d like to avoid giving the impression that our relationship is just about sex.”

The request takes me by surprise. I don’t see why it matters what anyone thinks of our fake arrangement, but I got the reaction I wanted out of Tori, so I’ll let it go. “Fine. No more bra spinning.”

“Rule number two, we only show each other appropriate affection in front of other people, and only when necessary and agreed upon.”

I arch an eyebrow at him. “Define appropriate affection.”

“Is this your first time in a relationship, Dilynne?”

“Fuck you, Elliot,” I fire back while flipping him the bird. “First of all, you know that’s not true. And second? My idea of affection toward you wo uld be backhanding your balls, so forgive me for wanting you to be more specific.”

His jaw clenches as he composes himself before he replies. “No kissing with tongue, touching in private places, or backhanding unless we are in front of other people. Is that clearer?”

“So you want me to slap you in the nuts in front of people?”

He pinches the bridge of his nose, exhaling heavily. “I feel like I’m talking to a toddler.”

“Well, you’re treating me like one!”

He lowers his hand and leans forward, so close that I can practically count his eyelashes. And hell, Elliot has some nice lashes. Ugh. Why do men always get the lashes most women would pay good money for?

“I’m trying to make this easier for us so that we aren’t just flying by the seat of our pants, Dilynne.”

“What’s wrong with that? Sometimes the best moments are the ones you don’t plan every detail of.”

“Are you honestly telling me that you would go into restoring a car without a plan?”

“Well, no…”

“Exactly. This fake engagement is a project like that to me. I—I need to know what to expect.”

My brows furrow. “Since when?”

“What do you mean?”

Assessing his face, I’m caught off guard by how anxious he seems. “This doesn’t seem like something that would have bothered you so much before…”

“Well, that was before, okay?” he barks out, standing from the couch and tossing the legal pad to the cushion before he begins to pace. “I just…I need …”

I leap from the couch and walk over to him, reaching for his hand. “Elliot…” But he avoids my gaze, his jaw clenched tight. Reaching up, I grip his chin as he closes his eyes, almost as if he’s in pain. “Elliot?”

“Please just give me some fucking rules, Dilynne.”

“Okay,” I say quickly, loosening my grip on his jaw, looking up to find his eyes still closed. “Okay, you can have your rules. I’ll stop arguing with you, all right?”

We stay like that for so long, I begin to wonder if Elliot has fallen asleep standing up. But when he inhales again, I release him and he heads back to the couch, grabbing his legal pad. My heart is racing, and part of me wants to ask him if he’s okay, but he picks back up right where he left off. “Rule number three,” he says, like he didn’t just have a miniature panic attack. “No sleepovers in the same bed.”