Page 38 of Striking Heat

“You know Phil offered to give me a ride home. But I chose to walk.”

“Let me give you a ride home.” His blue eyes are pleading.

I watch him for a moment. I want to throw a smart-ass comment in his face or say something rude so that he lets me go on my way without him. I’m tired, and it’s been a long day. Instead, I sit down on the curb and wait for him to join me.

“What are you doing?” he asks me, bumping my knee with his.

“I thought I’d sit down for a moment and try to figure out what’s happening here.”

“What’s happening is that it’s nighttime and you should be getting home, but you’re not letting me help you with that.” He knows what I mean but he’s going for the lighter answer.

“You know I can get myself home just fine.”

“You needed me earlier,” he reminds me. His voice drops an octave, his words all low and velvety.

My cheeks heat and a shiver runs down my spine. I try to move a bit to put some distance between us, but he holds on to my knee.

“Don’t pull away from me.”

I sigh. “Why do you do it?” I finally ask the question that has been burning on my tongue since one of our more civil interactions.

“Why do I do what?” he asks.

“Why did you challenge me that first day in the pressroom?”

He laughs. “It’s what I do. Haven’t you ever seen my work?”

“So, it had nothing to do with me?”

“Nope. I always do that. I’m always hard on people,” he admits.

“Then why are you so nice to me?” I ask him.

“Because I don’t have to be an ass all the time.” He bumps our knees again and then asks, “Why are you so mean to me?”

I laugh. “You get what you give,” I tell him proudly.

“Your mama teach you that?” He laughs along with me.

“No,” I admit. “She didn’t teach me much of anything.”

He nods and doesn’t say anything for a while. “We kinda have this love-hate thing going on. I’m guessing you don’t like it.”

I turn to him, smiling widely. “I don’t know. It’s not that I don’t like it. It’s just that I’m trying to figure it out. Do you really hate me and the team? Are you going to write a fair article?”

He just nods. “I told you that you could read it before publication.”

“When do we start?”

“Are you trying to start now?”

“No, it’s late and I’m tired. I’m just wondering. It’s all so new, and I’m trying to figure everything out. Put the team in a good place and navigate this whole mess with you.”

“I’m something you refer to as a mess?”

“Yeah,” I say, turning my body so that I can face him. “You show up freaking everywhere. I’m never sure if I’m going to get the nice Danny or the Danny who has these witty one-liners. I guess with all the pressure, I would just like to know where I stand with you.”

We’re both quiet for a while. “That sounded like I was trying to say that we have some kind of a relationship,” I continue. “I know we don’t, okay? I know there’s nothing here or whatever, and you’re just being you?—”