“The boy in that picture in your office, I bet he cares about you.”
There was something between them—two dirty, homeless boys on the street—that screamed loyalty.
“And who cares about you?”
I didn’t hesitate. “My papa.” I knew it was true. No matter the secrets he withheld from me and the anxieties of abandonment, I knew he loved me.
Ronan found something unpleasant in my response. “You have a soft heart.”
I didn’t say anything because, as annoying as it could sometimes be, it was true.
“Don’t,” he said, as if I could simply change it. “The soft ones are easier to break.”
I wondered who gave this man such a jaded view on life, who cast him out into the cold street. Whatever happened to him, he was still kind and generous, and I couldn’t help but find that incredibly attractive.
“The soft ones are the most loyal,” I countered.
“And naïve.”
“If you mean trusting, yes.”
“I meant naïve,” he deadpanned.
“It’s not a crime to look for the best in people.”
Albert grunted from the driver’s seat, apparently eavesdropping.
I raised a brow. “If the world’s so bad, then why did you help me, a stranger?”
My words strangled the air as we held each other’s stares. I had to look away—needed to give in to the physical pull to avert my gaze before a click or a pop sounded against my head—but I didn’t. I didn’t want to. Somehow, this had turned into a challenge. He didn’t like it.
Or maybe he just wasn’t used to it.
His gaze narrowed. “Don’t play games you can’t win.”
“I’m not a sore loser,” I said, unwilling to give in just yet.
“You’re altruism’s poster child, aren’t you?”
“Of course not.” So many things said otherwise, but the defense that slipped out sounded superficial to my own ears. “Sometimes I eat dairy when there’s no other option.”
As if he couldn’t help it, he laughed softly. “That’s a concerning issue, kotyonok. I don’t think I’ll be able to look at you the same way again.”
All I got from that was he might want to see me again.
I ignored the annoying blush on my cheeks, but he must have noticed it because his expression went grim.
“You’re too sweet for your own good.”
“You can have some. There’s plenty to go around.” The offer escaped me without a single thought to how it might come across.
All of the playfulness in the air drowned beneath the intensity of his eyes. His stare burned me with the hot lick of a flame. My heart tightened at the tension, resolve wavering. But then he ran a thumb over the scar on his bottom lip and looked away.
I released the breath I was holding, a smile pulling on my lips.
He didn’t even glance my way, but he must have felt my triumph because he said with dry humor, “Not so gracious a winner though.”
Amusement filled my stomach again, but suddenly, with the motion of the car, a bout of dizziness hit me.