“Yeah, he’s the only friend I have,” I said, clearing my throat. “I’ve never really had girlfriends. When I turned eighteen, I wasn’t in college making bad decisions at frat parties. I was auditioning, going for every shitty job I could, along with hundreds of other girls who looked like me. Obviously, I didn’t make friends then, because we were all hungry, desperate, and willing to stab each other in the back if it meant we looked better.” I paused. “It hasn’t changed that much, even though I’m now surrounded by women who have found the necessary success to not sell pimple cream. But we’re all still hungry.” I glanced down to the cheese plate. “In more ways than one.”
Harriet was shocked, maybe. It didn’t make sense if she was. Anyone who spent even a little time with me, worked with me, could totally understand why I didn’t have friends.
Then again, I wasn’t that person at the ranch. I hadn’t been since the second I’d climbed out of the truck. I’d spent time trying to find that woman I’d been these past years, trying to put on my mask, protect myself.
But Duke—the asshole—was totally right. I couldn’t lie in this place.
“I’m a good person,” I whispered surprising myself. “I’ve been pretending to be a bad one for so long because it’s easier. And now I’m not sure I know how to be good. I think I’ve been pretending for so long that I actually am bad.”
She reached across the table to squeeze my hand. “This world is far too preoccupied with creating two columns of people. Good or bad. It’s dangerous, because we’ve all got a little of both in us. But for the sake of this conversation, I’m gonna go binary.” She sipped her wine leisurely. “I consider myself a good judge of character. I haven’t seen much of the world, so I’m not versed on many luxuries and such. But I know people. And honey, you’re not a bad person. You’re a good person who’s lost your way.” She squeezed again. “You’re findin’ your way back now though.”
I blinked through tears. “I’m not really Duke’s girl,” I admitted.
She smiled. “Oh, I knew when you walked in here that you weren’t. You’re a good actress, my dear, but my grandson has never had a good poker face. You might not have been his girl when you walked in here, but you sure as heck are now.”
I was eating breakfast at the breakfast bar. The sun was only just starting to rise above the mountains. The French doors were open, letting in the slightly frigid morning breeze. The lilies planted right outside mixed with the unique perfume of the outdoors.
I didn’t have the television on. No music. I’d never had a morning with such stillness, such quiet. It wasn’t at all remarkable. But it was the best morning I’d had in my life.
Especially since it started with me waking up in Duke’s arms.
This time, when I’d stayed awake to revel in his embrace, he didn’t wake up. It was our norm now, pretending we were a couple to his family. And when we were sleeping. It was creeping into the waking hours now too. Him brushing my hair from my face when there was no one else around. Forehead kisses. Oh, and the dirty talk about how he was going to fuck me.
My stomach dipped with the mere memory.
My stomach dipped even further when the man in question walked through the door to the kitchen.
Shirtless.
I made sure to sip my coffee so he didn’t see me all but drooling over him. How long had it been since I’d seen him like this for the first time? Why hadn’t the effect worn off yet? Then again, I had the feeling if I had a hundred years, Duke wouldn’t wear off on me. But I didn’t have a hundred years. Every single day was numbered. I wasn’t even sure if I had tomorrow. When had that stopped being a good thing and started being the beginning of a nightmare?
Duke’s eyes drank me in with that same look that had been glued to his face since…that morning, that very first one—maybe before. Hunger. Something else. Something softer.
His gaze flickered down to my plate, then his eyes widened in surprise. “You’re eating a bagel.”
Of all the things I’d expect him to say with that look on his face, that didn’t even factor into the top ten.
I looked down at the half-eaten slice of bagel, slathered in cream cheese—because it was absolutely criminal to eat a bagel without it. “Yeah, I am.”
No response when I looked up.
“Harriet has them flown in from New York,” I continued.
He nodded, leaning on a doorjamb in a way that should be criminal. No man should be able to make such a simple thing so damn sexy.