“I’m telling you because…” He opened his mouth and closed it just as quickly. Opened it once more before closing it again, the muscles in his cheeks moving, as if he didn’t really know why he was doing so. Hell, I didn’t get it. Finally, Aiden shrugged those massive, rounded shoulders and made sure our gazes met. “I like you as much as I like anyone.”
Damn it.
God damn it.
Diana had told me once that I had no backbone. Actually, I’m pretty sure her exact words had been, “You’re a sucker, Van.”
I like you as much as I like anyone shouldn’t have been a compliment. It really shouldn’t have. I wasn’t that dumb. But…
A rough laugh tore its way out of me unexpectedly, and then I was snickering, raising my eyes to the popcorn ceiling.
Coming from someone like Aiden, I guess it was the biggest compliment I could ever get.
I like you as much as I like anyone. My word.
“Why is that funny?” Aiden asked, a frown curving his mouth.
I slapped a hand over my eyes and leaned forward over the kitchen countertop, giggling a little as I rubbed at my brow bone in resignation. “There’s a huge difference between me not irritating the hell out of you and us being friends, Aiden. You’ve made that perfectly clear, don’t you think?”
His blink was innocent, so earnest, I had no idea what to do with it. “I don’t mind you.”
I don’t mind you.
I started cracking up—really cracking up—and I was pretty sure it sounded like I was crying when I was really laughing.
“You’re the most even-tempered woman I’ve ever met.”
Even-tempered. He was killing me.
This was what my life had come to. Taking half-assed compliments from a man who only cared about one thing: himself. A man who I’d tried to make my friend over and over again to no avail.
To give him credit, he waited a bit before saying carefully, way too calmly, and almost gently, “This isn’t funny.”
I had to squat down behind the kitchen cabinets because my stomach was clenching so badly.
“You’re asking me—oh, hell, my stomach hurts—to perform a felony, and your reasoning for having me do so is because you ‘like me as much as you like anyone,’ because you ‘don’t mind me,’ and because I’m ‘even-tempered.’” I held my hands up to do air quotes over the top of the cabinets. “Holy crap. I didn’t think you had a sense of humor, but you do.”
The best defensive player in the NFO didn’t hesitate with the opening I gave him. “You’ll do it then?”
I couldn’t even find it in me to be annoyed by his persistence after that. I was still laughing too much over my greatest attributes as a possible fake wife. “No, but this has been the highlight in my time knowing you. Really. I wish you’d been like this with me from the beginning. Working for you would have been a lot more fun, and I might have even thought about coming back for a little bit longer.”
It still wasn’t enough though. Working for him permanently wasn’t part of the plan, especially not after everything that happened, and everything he was asking of me now. Marry him.
He was out of his damn mind.
The plan after becoming entirely self-employed on my graphic design work was to pay off the terrifying amount of student loans I still had, buy my own house, buy a new car, and the rest… it could all fall into place in its own time. Travel, find someone I liked enough to be in a relationship with, maybe have a kid if I wanted one, and continue my financial independence.
And to make money, I needed to work, so I forced myself to my feet and shrugged at my old boss. “Look, you’ll find someone if you just try a little. You’re attractive, you have money, and you’re a decent guy most of the time.” I made sure to pin him with a look that emphasized the ‘most of the time.’ “If you found someone who you liked, even a little bit, I’m sure you could make it work. I’d give you one of my friends’ phone numbers, but they’d drive you nuts after ten minutes, and I’m not mad enough at you to give you any of my sisters’。”
I bit the inside of my cheek, not knowing what else to say, fully aware that I would more than likely never understand what had led him to this time and moment with me.
And what did he do?
His eyes roamed my face as his forehead wrinkled and he shook his head. “I need your help.”
“No you don’t.” Shrugging again, I offered him a reluctant smile, a gentle one because I was well aware he wasn’t used to having someone tell him no. “You’ll figure everything out on your own. You don’t need me.”
Chapter Seven
Flipping my grilled cheese sandwich over, I snickered into the phone. “I’m not going. I don’t think he liked me much anyway, either.”
“I didn’t like Jeremy until our third date and look at us now.” Diana’s argument was probably the worst one she could have chosen.
The five times I’d met him over the last six months was five times too many. I knew for a fact her brother felt the same way about him. We’d hung out with him for Diana’s birthday, and within minutes, we’d shared a ‘he’s a jackass’ glare. Neither of us tried to hide our dislike, and in this instant, nothing actually came out of my mouth, which said more than enough, I figured.
Not surprisingly, she knew what the silence was for and sighed. “He’s really nice to me.”
I highly doubted that. The times we’d gone out, he’d tried to pick a fight with someone… for no reason. He seemed high strung, moody, and way too cocky. Plus, I didn’t like the vibe he gave off, and I’d learned to listen to my gut when it came to people.
I’d told her enough times how I felt, but she continuously brushed it off. “Hey, I don’t have anything nice to say, so I’m not going to say anything,” I told her.
The big sigh that came out of her let me know she didn’t want to talk about Jeremy anymore—well aware it was a lost cause. Nothing would get me to change my mind about him unless he saved my life or something. “I still think you should go on another date. At least you can get a few drinks out of it.”
Why had I even told her my date last night had invited me out again? I knew better. I really did. “I drank about as much wine as my liver could handle last night just to get through two hours. I’m good.”
She made a “meh” noise. “There’s no such thing as too much wine.”
“Is there something I should know about?”
“I don’t know. Is there?”
“I don’t know, Betty Ford. You tell me.”
The person who was almost as much of a sister as she was my friend, barked out that familiar loud laugh that was about as close to home as possible. “Fuck you. I only drink two, maybe three times a week.”
“If that’s your way of trying to convince me you don’t have a drinking problem, it isn’t working.” I laughed.
She blew out a raspberry. “I don’t even know why I talk to you sometimes.”
“Because no one else likes you but me, your brother, and the boys?”