“Poe, you’re a rotten sleuth. Of course not. You think I have time to date after you went snooping through my bullshit on social media?”
I cock my head, staring up at him, hating how good he is at putting on the mystery man air.
“Then why are we here? Do you just like driving me bonkers?” I huff out a loud breath.
That twinkle in his eyes—the way the evening lights catch and shine—says he just might.
“I’m here to see Wyatt. You’re here because you’re a freaky little stalker.” He sighs, suppressing a laugh. “Can I be straight with you?”
I glare.
“Sure. I’m trying to think of a time where you’ve been anything less than blunt...” A breeze blows around us, fluttering more of my hair loose for him to fix.
“I don’t care that you followed me. I care about your safety. You came here once when I knew you’d have somebody around and I was expecting you. I wouldn’t have let anything happen. But if I don’t know you’re here and you come snooping around—”
My laugh cuts him off. “C’mon. I’m not some damsel in distress who needs Burns-man to the rescue.”
Again, his mahogany eyes darken with an overprotective look that makes me shudder.
“It’s not funny. You can take care of yourself, but you’re from a small town and you don’t spend much time in places like this. There are lot of good people here and a few fucking rats.” I should be touched at how uptight he gets about my well-being, I guess.
“But you just said it. I can take care of myself. You’re also my boss—not my freaking bodyguard—so what does it matter if I decide to take my chances?” I smile up at him sweetly.
He doesn’t roll his eyes, even if I can feel his frustration curdling the air around us.
“Dakota, coming here alone after dark to spy on me isn’t a choice. It’s dumb as hell,” he says bluntly.
Harsh. But I can’t say he’s wrong.
I knew this was a bad move the minute I rushed down the elevator.
“Would you walk in front of a charging bull for kicks too?” he asks. “You’re too smart for that shit. Too intelligent to get hurt, all because you have something to prove. That isn’t the woman I know—the one I hired who thinks before she trips over her own feet.”
He’s scowling, practically grinding his words, and it’s so hilariously intense I feel weirdly touched. Dallas was mostly a sleepy town growing up, and nobody ever got growly about my decisions or my safety. Not even Jay.
“Are you listening?” he bites off, his eyes still drilling through me.
“Yeah, daddy dearest. I heard you loud and clear through all that grumping.” I’m blushing the second it’s out, realizing how I’ve butchered my choice of words.
If there’s one man on the planet I should not be calling daddy, it’s the beast in front of me who has my entire future in his hands.
“I’ll show you real grumping, if I need to,” he says, scratching his face to hide a slight, adorable redness under his scruff. “If my right hand needs a lesson on common sense, so be it.”
“Temporary right hand. And I’m thinking the one that’s attached to you is just fine unless you’re like, into a sock or a fleshlight or something.”
He snorts and his lips almost turn up in a smile.
“Dammit, Nevermore. Are sex and murders all you think about?” He snorts again, shaking his head sharply. “And for your information, I only need to worry about one right hand. The other works just fine and it doesn’t fly solo. I put it to work on whoever’s getting me off.”
Gah.
My face is on fire. My next breath shakes me to my core.
How did we wind up talking about Lincoln’s sex life again?
I’m just grateful he doesn’t extend the torture when he glances around the park, looks at me again, and says, “Since you’re already here, come on.”
“Where are we going?” I ask, trying to catch up since he’s already moving.
“You’ll see.”
I follow Lincoln to the familiar row of tents spaced apart, but this time we stop before we get to Wyatt’s. We’re in front of a faded pink tent instead.
He bends down and places the flowers in an empty coffee can in front of it. As they’re settling, I notice there’s a tiny note attached to the wrapping paper.
“What are you doing?” I whisper, my brows pulling together.
In the distance, a grinning Wyatt waves to us.
“Burns? It really is you. Come on over. I brewed up something good,” he says.
I give Lincoln a puzzled look.
“Don’t say anything. They’re for Meadow, the only person besides me who bothers to check in on Wyatt. She’s young and kind of cute. I know he likes her, so what’s the harm in dropping a few flowers on his behalf?” He shrugs. “She likes plants. He calls her Miss Green Thumb.”