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CHAPTER TEN

RORA WAS ON the elevator to go to Bruin’s room when the elevator door opened on the second floor to let someone on, and it was Stockton.

He saw her, and his eyes got huge, and then he acted like he was going to back out of the elevator, but the door was closing, so he tipped forward into it with her.

She blinked at him.

He scrubbed a hand over his face. “You… I’m sorry I acted like I didn’t know you.”

“Wait,” she said. “So you did recognize me. You used to date Maibell, right?”

Chagrined, he backed into the wall, tilting down his antlers, shaking his head. “Yeah.”

She nodded. “I thought so. I remember having a conversation with you once, when everyone went dancing, and it was just you and me sitting together at a table, watching everyone else. We were the only people not dancing.”

“Oh, yeah,” he said, giving her a half-smile. “Yeah, I remember that night. That was, uh, that was right after she told me she cheated on me. I was kind of drunk. What did we talk about?”

She remembered the conversation well. It was one of those conversations where she’d asked a friend’s boyfriend what was wrong with her. Now, it seemed utterly embarrassing, and she began to realize that she had probably been ruining every interaction she’d ever had with a member of the opposite sex by saying things like that. It made her look pathetic. She wanted to die.

“Oh, yeah, actually, maybe… I do remember,” he said. He lifted his head, his antlers rising. “Wow, and then I acted like I didn’t know you. That must have been…” He winced, shaking his head. He took two steps toward her. “Look, the reason I did that was because, like, you and those other women were standing there, with your tails , and I was thinking about…” He groaned, looking away. “Okay, so, this whole weekend, it’s the definition of awkward, and there you were, and I thought you’d see that I was being, like, I don’t know. Athos, he was being a dick, right? And I didn’t want you to think I was one of those kinds of guys, the kind of jackass guy who just thinks of a woman like a… an object. But, um, I was objectifying you, actually, right in that exact moment.”

“You were what?”

“And, you know, that night, when we talked,” he said, “you were really upset and feeling really low about yourself. And I was fucked in the head over Maibell at the time. I don’t know if I conveyed to you how totally wrong you were in those things you were saying about yourself.”

She let out a little gasp, horrified. “Oh, moon and sun, we don’t have to talk about any of that ever again.”

“Well, for whatever it’s worth,” he said with a shrug, “there’s literally nothing wrong with you. You’re fucking gorgeous.”

The elevator arrived on Bruin’s floor.

The door opened.

He started forward and then motioned for her to go first. “Are we both getting off here?”

“Oh, this is your floor?” she said.

“My dad’s floor, actually,” he said. The door tried to shut. He reached out and put a hand over it, holding it open. “I’ve been doing this thing this weekend. It’s like I’ve been a character in a really bad comedy movie, a character who keeps lying about stuff, and it never works out in those movies, and I think I’ve learned my lesson. I have a relationship with my dad. I know who the hell you are. I’m not hiding things anymore.” He let out a breath. “Well, that felt good.”

“I…” She retreated, back into the corner of the elevator. “I just remembered, it’s actually the floor up, not this one that I need. So, you go ahead.”

“Sure,” he said. “Next floor? Here, I’ll hit the button for you.” He gave her a smile. “Sorry for being a total dick to you. Really.”

“You weren’t a dick,” she said.

He shrugged. “Thanks for saying that, but I think we both know I was.” He let go of the door and exited the elevator.

It swished closed.

She stood there.

The elevator took off.

She went up to the next floor and then wandered the halls, trying to account for however long it would take for Stockton to go to whatever room he was going to so that she wouldn’t run into him when she went back down.

She didn’t know why she hadn’t wanted him to see her seeking out Bruin to apologize or anything. I’m being irrational, she thought. Tawny wouldn’t have approved.

She shouldn’t have ever thought that no man would ever want her, she realized. The thought had been so painful precisely because she knew it wasn’t true. She’d fallen into it, though, so deeply that it had become her identity.

This was what a guy like Stockton thought of when he saw her. He thought of her as the pathetic girl who hated herself. And then he felt the need to reassure her that she was attractive, and that was deeply embarrassing.

She searched back over far too many conversations with people about things like that, conversations where people dismissed her at first, telling her that there was nothing wrong with her. But she would push and push and—when they saw she wouldn’t back down—they would eventually agree with her.

I talked them into it! she realized in horror. I made them think I was damaged because I thought it.

The sad thing was, all she’d wanted was to be reassured that it wasn’t true, but in seeking that reassurance, she’d actually confirmed it, created it.

And not waking up Bruin, it was more of the same thing, wasn’t it?

Here I am, convinced that no one would move across a bed for me, she thought, shaking her head.

She marched back to the elevator and rode it down.

But when she got to Bruin’s room, the door was open and a maid’s cart was outside.

The maid was inside the front door, securing a door stopper to keep the door open. “You need something, sweetie?” she asked Rora.

“I was looking for the person in this room,” said Rora.

“He checked out, actually,” said the maid. “Saw him taking his suitcase out as I was going through to do my rounds.”

“Checked out?” said Rora, surprised by this.

“He left a nice tip,” said the maid.

Well, then. Rora guessed she was saved the issue of explaining herself to him, which was what she had wanted earlier. Now, however, she felt disappointed at the prospect.

“YOU,” SAID TAWNY . She was in the bar near the courtyard, drinking a mimosa. It was probably too early to get drunk, but she didn’t think she was going to make it out there into the field without some liquid courage. Then, she looked up to see that horrible Athos buck approaching the bar.

“Me,” he said. His gaze went to her white earring.

She fingered it, feeling as if he was seeing her without clothing or something. “What? Do I happen to look as if I’m exactly the right age to be desperate to get knocked up or something? Is that what you’re thinking?”

He let out a disbelieving laugh. “Lady, I was not the person who was aggressively insulting in our last interaction, hate to break it to you.”

She scoffed. “That’s what you think? You just live in your own brand of reality, don’t you, regardless of where everyone else lives?”

“Yeah, I guess so.” He was sarcastic. “I left a keycard here last night, I think. I don’t really need it, because they give you two, but I guess I just wanted to make sure someone found it and turned it in, because I think I’ll get charged for it if it’s lost, right? Where’s the bartender?”

She turned back to her drink, seething. Had she picked a fight with that guy last night? She didn’t think so. “You were openly leering at us last night,” she said to him.

He reached up to toy with one of his antlers. “So, you don’t know where the bartender is?”

“You’re not denying that, I see.”

“I didn’t deny it last night,” he said, and he was more heated now. “You come to a rite that’s about getting railed in a damned field, which means that the bucks in question need to want to rail you, am I wrong? So, we should pretend to not find you attractive? That’s what you want?”

“It’s about respect,” she said.

“Yeah, okay. Well, you’re the one who assumes the gaze was a leer and not respectful. I am incredibly respectful of this .” He gestured at her, up and down. “All you got going on there. This is the way I show respect for that.”

She rolled her eyes. “Seriously?”

“I mean, it’s dwindling. You’re fucking attractive, lady, but the longer you talk, the less attractive I find you, for some weird reason. On the other hand, whatever, I’m at this damned thing to get laid, so I got sex on the brain.” He blew out a huff of air. “What are the odds we can sit here in silence waiting for the bartender to come back?”

“I’m not interested in talking to you.”

“Great,” he said. “You know, the other thing is, with your type, it’s weird how all that respect-me business fades out when the guy who’s saying it is someone you find attractive. You could have just let me down easy instead of turning it into some morality lesson. We all know it’s not about men doing things the ‘right’ way, it’s about men being the kind of men you want. Women gatekeep mating. Always have, always will.”

“That is… what? ” She took a gulp of her mimosa.

“I mean, amongst swans—”

“Who gives a shit about swans?”

“Well, my ex-wife is a swan,” he said, shaking his head. “Whatever. You do not want me to come near you, and I got the damned message, so can we just be quiet now?”

“I never said I didn’t find you attractive,” she snapped. Okay, why am I saying that to him?

He straightened, gazing at her, looking at her earring again. “So, this is how you flirt?”

“No,” she growled.

He nodded. “Got it.” He shifted on his feet, looking her over again.

“Stop it,” she said. Her voice wasn’t strong.

“You divorced too?” he said, tilting back his head, tilting back that rack of antlers. “That why you’re here? You trying to have a consolation baby?”

“Fuck you.” Her voice shook.

“I just met this guy who’s here with his son,” he said. “A buck who knows his son.” He licked his lips, furrowing his brow.

It was quiet.

She sipped at her mimosa. “I thought swans, like, really mated,” she said.

“With each other, yeah,” he said wryly, looking away.

She dragged her upper teeth over her lower lip. “Sorry. I was in an interspecies marriage, too. I wanted kids. He said he did, but apparently…”

“Sorry,” he said.

It was quiet again.

The silence went on and on, but they were staring at each other. So, even though they weren’t speaking, some sort of communication was still happening.

She wasn’t sure what they were saying to each other, saying by staring at each other, by the expressions on their faces, by the way they were holding their posture. She wasn’t sure at all.

But…

They were saying something .

He moved closer to her.

She could have told him to back off. She could have moved away. Instead, she stayed put, holding her ground as he got closer and closer and closer.

“You’re invading my personal space,” she managed. Her voice was fucking breathy.

“Real sorry about that,” he said. His voice was kind of scratchy. He reached up and fingered her earring.

“What are you doing?” she said, and her voice wasn’t demanding or insulted, though she could have sworn that was what she was trying to convey. “Do you just touch other people’s jewelry without permission all the time?”

“No,” he said. “I don’t. Usually.” He did not let go of the earring. “ I’m going to give you the consolation baby, how’s that?”

“You… I don’t like you,” she said.

“No, I get that,” he said. “I don’t like you either. But I think you want me to be the father of your fawn.” He paused, waiting for her to deny it.

She didn’t deny it. She didn’t even breathe. She froze and fixed her gaze on the way his antlers jutted up into the air.

His voice grew even more scratchy. “I think right now, when I’m talking about how I’m going to run you down out there and how I’m going to fight off any other buck who thinks he has has chance at getting between your pretty thighs and how I’m going to pin you down and breed you, I think you’re getting all warm and bothered.”

“Is that what you think?” She was shaking. Damn this guy, because whatever he was saying was hot, and she was turned on. She sputtered, searching for something to say, something to restore some shred of her dignity. She finally breathed, very softly, and she sounded turned on: “You’re a real asshole, you know that?”

“I think you just bring it out of me,” he said with a shrug. “I think you want me to be an asshole.”

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.” She was whispering.

“You could stop this right now,” he said. “Tell me to move away. Tell me not to touch your earring. Say, ‘Athos, I would not have sex with you if you were the last buck on earth.’ Tell me no.”

She swallowed. “Don’t tell me what to do,” she gasped. Fuck, I am flirting with him. This is how I flirt. What the hell is wrong with me?

His lips curved into a smile. “You going on the run this morning?”

She nodded. Her breath was noisy and shallow.

“I’m going to find you,” he said.

“That a threat or a promise?”

He chuckled. “I really don’t like you.”

“Ditto.”

“What’s your name?”

She dragged her teeth over her lower lip again. “Tawny.”

“You’re the most infuriating woman I’ve ever met,” he said.

“Ditto,” she said again.

“I’m going to kiss you,” he said.

“No, you’re not,” she said. “You’re going to catch me first.”

He sucked in air through his nose. “Okay, that was hot. That was really fucking hot. So, I’m going to catch you first.”

“And you’re going to back off now,” she said.

“Okay,” he said, letting go of her earring. “I actually take direction well, Tawny,” he said with a little smile she would probably call wicked, as he backed away.

Her heart was pounding in her chest. She had just forgotten how to flirt. That must be it. That was the only excuse for whatever this travesty was right now. How did… did she somehow go from ripping him a new one to him thinking she was a sure thing?

I am a sure thing, though. I wanted him the minute I turned around and he was looking at me like a piece of meat.

The truth was, it had been a long time since a man had looked at her like that. When she and her ex-husband had first started dating, when they’d first started living together, they’d barely been able to keep their hands off each other, like any typical relationship, after all. But by the time they had gotten married, that whole phase of the relationship had already cooled, and she hadn’t really missed it at the time.

Truthfully, until she turned around at the bar and found herself caught in that gaze of Athos the arrogant jerk, she hadn’t even realized it was a thing she missed very much.

Maybe she’d lashed out at him in annoyance with herself as much as with him. She had felt like some part of her—some long forgotten part—had been jerked awake, and she hadn’t even known how to react to that sensation.

He was still backing away now, still giving her that wicked little smile, and she was torn between going after him and slapping it off his face—no, she wouldn’t hit him. Okay, torn between expressing some kind of righteous indignation and between encouraging him.

Damn everything.

She jerked her gaze from him and turned all of her attention back to her mimosa.