Seducing Mr. Grumpy

11. She can't. [Part 2]

"Can you pass me my bag?" she asks, so I take it off my shoulder and hand it to her.

I watch her pull out two bottles of water, she hands me one, followed by a dulce de leche muffin that makes me smile.

"Are you already going to eat the other one?" I ask, surprised when she pulls out the second stuffed bagel and unwraps it to take a big bite.

"I'm hungry," she says with her mouth full, covering it with her hand out of modesty, but her voice comes out so funny with all the food already stuffed in her mouth.

"I can tell," and I can't help but laugh, my chest shaking from the strength of my laughter, the sound even strange to my own ears. Summer laughs too, almost choking on her food, which only makes me laugh harder until I fall back from the lack of air in my lungs.

"Water," she groans, fumbling to open a bottle as she chokes again.

I laugh again, clutching my stomach as I struggle for air.

"Where does all that food even go?" I say, now just smiling. "You're barely half my size."

"I'm not a minion."

"More like a flea."

"Don't exaggerate," she shoots me a look, and I laugh again, unable to help myself.

I sigh, staring up at the sky while she finishes eating. I'm surprised by how funny Summer can be—she's naturally, genuinely amusing, even endearing. How did I not see it before?

Absentmindedly, lost in my thoughts, I pinch off a piece of the muffin she gave me and taste it, but immediately wrinkle my mouth and nearly spit it out when I realize something.

"You didn’t make this, did you?"

"Hmm?" Summer tears her gaze away from the city in front of her and turns back to look at me.

"The muffin, did you make it?"

"I bought it with the water at the bakery."

"Oh," I nod.

She makes a confused face but shrugs it off. Summer refocuses on her bagel, eyes on the city, while I set the muffin aside and lift my arms to rest my head on them, eyes on the sky.

"Can I ask you something?"

I lick my lips, look at her, and nod.

"Does your job make you happy, Nic?"

My first instinct is to say that jobs aren’t meant to make us happy, they’re meant to pay the bills and offer financial satisfaction, but her eyes are watching me so expectantly, as if my answer truly matters, so I take my time to give her something real. Something that will satisfy her.

"My job gives me peace," I say. "It calms me in the sense that I’m the one in control, not the other way around. Numbers are easy for me, finding logical solutions to equally logical problems is something I enjoy. It’s a good way to spend my time, and it doesn’t feel like an obligation. I like it. It even makes me proud. But happiness? I’m not sure a job can bring that. I don’t think that’s its purpose. Still, I can’t picture myself doing anything else. If I had to choose another path, there wouldn’t be one. There’s nothing else for me."

She smiles, seemingly happy with my answer.

"Then if you can’t picture yourself doing anything else, it means you’re in the right place."

"I guess."

"I’m happy for you, Nic."

This time I’m the one who smiles at her. Then I look back up at the sky—her gaze is too much to bear. Too much depth when I have nothing to offer in return.

Summer lies back down in the grass beside me, and I find myself enjoying this calm and peace. It’s been such a long, long time since I felt this at ease.

It’s true what she said in my office—I’ve been avoiding her all week. But it’s hard for me to have someone else in my routine, to get used to her, especially when she seems determined to open me up and examine every piece of my soul to try to fix it.

It’s hard to trade a monotonous, lonely life for one bursting with color, invaded by a butterfly that refuses to leave me alone.

The business trip I'm taking this weekend will be a breath of fresh air, a moment of normalcy—and a moment I need away from her. Summer makes me feel out of control, and I need to get that control back.

"I’m going to Dubai this weekend," I tell her, just as a barking dog runs past us, chasing after its owner.

"Dubai?" she asks, smiling at the dog, just happy to see it run.

Jesus, she’s too much for this world.

"Business," I explain, clearing my throat when a lump suddenly forms in it. "I’ll ask Heaven to stay with you at night, so you won’t have to be alone."

"Oh, that’s not necessary. I won’t be here either."

I nod, then freeze.

What?

"Sorry?"

"Hmm?" She looks at me distractedly, reaches for the muffin I didn’t eat, and starts eating it herself.

"I didn’t catch what you just said."

"Oh, I said I won’t be here this weekend either. I’m going to Lewes with Maggie and her grandson."

What?

Who?

Where?

"What are you talking about?"

"Yeah," she smiles, then licks her finger after it gets smeared with dulce de leche. "They invited me to George’s cabin for the weekend."

Who?

"George?"

"Maggie’s grandson. He’s really nice."

Ah, so he’s the i***t who was devouring her with his eyes the other day.

Shit, no.

I sit up like a spring and find myself saying, "No. You can’t."

Summer lifts her big, innocent eyes to me.

"Hmm?"

"You can’t."

She stares at me in total confusion.

"Why not?"

I swallow hard, looking for an answer.

Why can’t she go to Lewes, Dominic?

"Because—where are you going to sleep? Are you out of your mind? Are you going to ask him not to lock his door too? Worse, are you going to ask him to sleep with you? f**k, no. Besides, they’re strangers. You just found out they even exist—you don’t know what kind of people they are. After everything that happened, how can you…?" I run out of words, until I manage to growl, "How can you be so irresponsible?"

"Hmm?" She still looks completely confused.

"You can’t."

"Dominic, you’re babbling a bunch of nonsense."

I look at her, open my mouth, then close it again. I want to say so many things, but nothing comes out—only one final growl: "You can’t."

Then I get up, grab my phone, and call Laney.

She can’t.

[2/2]