“Like an overnight thing?”
“Hmm.” He picked up an apple and held it out to her, and she accepted with a soft “thanks” before crunching into the ripe, red fruit appreciatively.
“That’s a really good idea,” she said around a mouthful of sweet apple, and when he didn’t respond, she looked up and caught him staring. Wiping self-consciously at her chin, where some of the apple juice had dripped, she lowered her eyes.
“So . . . uh . . . what exactly did you have in mind?” she asked, taking another, smaller bite of the apple.
“I don’t know; it was just an idea. Figured we could brainstorm together,” he said almost shyly, and she raised her eyes to meet his. His expression was hard to read. He really was the most frustratingly enigmatic man. It was weird how she could see that now, where before she’d simply dismissed that closed-off personality as a man without much intelligence, having nothing of note to say. An unfair assumption based on nothing more than the fact that he was good at sport, rarely spoke, and couldn’t flirt worth a damn.
“Well, it’s a start,” she said, and he nodded.
“That’s what I thought.”
“How do you feel about Mason and Daisy moving?” she asked, the words tumbling from her lips without warning. Maybe she wanted to see if Spencer was as affected by the news as his brother had said he was.
“I knew it was coming,” he said, his voice and face without expression, and Daff was about to dismiss Mason’s words of the other day as sheer bollocks when she saw it—the brief tightening around his eyes and mouth, the tense set of his huge shoulders. He looked like he was bracing for a hit.
“You knew it was coming but you were upset by it,” she elaborated, and he shifted uncomfortably, saying nothing in response. Not even a grunt this time.
“Not my place to be upset by it.” He shrugged, gathering up the empty containers.
“Bullshit, you’re his brother. I’m bummed Daisy’s leaving. I’ll miss the hell out of her. We were just starting to reconnect, and I think it sucks that she’s leaving just when we’re starting to act like sisters again.”
“You seemed sisterly enough before,” he said.
“Not really. We got along and loved each other, but we never seemed to have very much in common. It’s been a lot better since your asshole move last year.” He grimaced at the reminder.
“So maybe you can thank me instead of constantly bitching about it?” he suggested, and she laughed incredulously.
“You’re joking, right? Dude, you treated my sister like she didn’t matter.”
“Yeah, and I’ve apologized. More than once,” he reminded her through clenched teeth. Spencer Carlisle looked seriously pissed off and Daff—perversely—found herself mildly turned on by that. She was beginning to discover that she liked pushing his buttons. It kept her in control. She preferred being in control these days. She had allowed others to control her too often in the past. She was done with that.
“Anyway, I was saying that you have a right to be upset about your brother leaving.”
“It’s none of your business how I feel,” he muttered, carelessly dumping all the cartons into the large brown paper bag. He shoved to his feet, looming threateningly above her, and Daff was secretly thrilled by the deliberately intimidating display. Big, bumbling Spencer Carlisle seemed almost scary, and it was pretty damned awesome.
God, I’m so messed up, she thought, shaking her head slightly. One second wanting to be in control and the next thrilled because of his show of dominance.
“I’ve got to get back to work,” he snapped.
“Okay. Thanks for lunch,” she said in a sickly-sweet voice with a matching smile. He said nothing in response to that, just glared at her before slamming his way out of the store.
“Touchy,” she said softly, exhaling on a whistle.
How the hell did she always manage to get the upper hand like that? Spencer seethed as he walked the short distance back to SCSS. One minute he was staring at her luscious mouth while she devoured that fucking apple, and the next she had him on the back foot about some ancient history that nobody else even cared about anymore. And worse, why the fuck would she nose around about his feelings concerning Mason’s imminent departure? What did she care?
She was the most frustrating woman. He didn’t know how to converse with her, and it didn’t help that he was semihard every time he was in her general vicinity. He didn’t know why the hell he was so turned on by her. Sure, she was pretty, but she’d never been anywhere near civil to him. Maybe he liked being treated like dirt. It was familiar—it was how most people had treated him for the entirety of his life. And it was disturbing to think that he was still such a victim that he would willingly seek out this treatment from someone like Daff, someone he desired, someone he couldn’t seem to stay away from.