I didn’t know what to say to that. It felt like he was saying the conversation we’d had back at Pollard months ago wasn’t important to him anymore. Back then, I’d felt safe doing this because he sounded just as disillusioned with love and commitments as I was. Now he was basically telling me he wasn’t sure about all that.

Were his words an invitation? If they were, I thought they were like an invitation to a trap. The only thing I felt certain of was that Dean Slater was dangerous for me. He was dangerous because I was getting closer and closer to thinking it was worth giving the whole relationship thing one last shot. But what happened with Eric had nearly broken me. I didn’t think I could survive something like that again, and I wasn’t sure if I was really reckless enough to unlock my heart and release it from the box I’d stuffed it in.

“This is really good,” I said to break the silence. I was talking about my food, but Dean made eye contact with me and smiled in a way that said he wasn’t talking about anything but me and the night we’d had.

“It was amazing,” he said.

18

DEAN

By the time we made it back to our hotel room, we were both tipsy from the wine. Pearl was in a rare and very enjoyably good mood around me. I kept finding myself smiling because I hadn’t had a conversation like that in a long time–maybe ever. Usually, the women I dated wanted to talk about the designers they wanted to wear or the exotic places they’d been or the people they knew. It was always a pissing contest.

Nobody ever stopped long enough to give a shit to ask about me or to be open when I asked about them. Talking with Pearl was refreshing as hell.

Pearl was holding my arm as we came in the room. We both laughed when the toe of her shoe caught on the metal partition beneath the door and she almost took a spill. I caught her and pulled her up, accidentally spinning her until her chest was pressing into me. One of my hands was interlaced with hers and the other was on the small of her back where I’d reached for her.

She felt good in my arms. Damn good. And not for the first time, it occurred to me that I didn’t like the idea of some other man holding her like this. Maybe what we had was supposed to be pretend, but I wanted to keep pretending, if only so I’d know I was the only one who got to hold her like this.

It didn’t help that I felt like I was getting to know her better, too. She might be a firecracker on the inside, but she was a bundled mess of nerves just beneath it. Knowing that made me want to be there for her down the line–to make sure she was taken care of. I sure as hell didn’t like the idea of her heading off to be with some other asshole who wouldn’t see her for what she was. He’d miss her value like the ones before apparently had. He wouldn’t treat her right, and the thought of it made me want to pull her closer and whisper that I wasn’t going to let her go, pretend or not.