Midnight Valentine(60)
“He bid on the restoration of my house too.”
“Are you hiring him?”
“I had his team do the electrical wiring after the fire—”
“Fire?” repeats Craig loudly. “What fire?”
I wave my hand in the air. “Long story. No one was hurt. My point is…” I take another deep breath. “I think there might be something going on between us.”
Craig lifts his brows. “You think? Are you saying you’re dating him?”
“No. I’m not dating him. In fact, I’m convinced he doesn’t like me at all.”
He squints at me as if to see me better. “I don’t understand. How could there be something going on between you if he doesn’t like you and you’re not dating him?”
I sigh, because out loud, it sounds as ridiculous as it is. “Believe me, I don’t understand it either. But…just look at him. Look at the way he’s looking at you. How would you describe it?”
Craig slices his gaze back toward the bar. After a few beats, he says mildly, “I’d say he wants to rip off my fucking head.”
“Exactly.”
After a moment, Craig quirks his lips. Then he glances back at me, his eyes sparkling. “Good.”
“Good? Did you just say good?”
“I did.”
“Okay, now I’m confused.”
“It’s a guy thing. Never mind. The more important issue is how serious this ‘thing’ is that you feel is going on between you. In other words, if he and I are in a race for your attention, who’s ahead?”
I lean back into my chair and stare at him. “My God. You’re unflappable.”
Craig breaks into a grin. “Thank you. It’s one of my better qualities. Answer the question.”
My expression sours. “You’re also bossy.”
“Not one of my better qualities. Please answer the question.”
“There’s no race.” I try not to look toward the bar to see what Theo’s doing, though I can tell by the pinpricks of electricity running up and down my arms that he’s shifted his gaze from Craig back to me. “Like I said, I don’t think he likes me.”
“But?” Craig prompts when I’m silent too long.
“But…I think…” I stare at the tablecloth, struggling for an explanation that makes any kind of sense. “He’s drawn to me. And to the Buttercup. And he doesn’t want to be.”
When I glance back at Craig, he’s gazing at me with a contemplative look, his head tilted to one side.
“I heard he was in an accident.”
I nod, chewing my lip.
“Do you think he’s dangerous? Mentally unstable?”
“No,” I reply firmly, but I’m only answering the first question. He’s definitely unstable, but that’s not something I’d tell Craig. Don’t ask me why, but some secrets of Theo’s I’ll always keep.
More softly, Craig asks, “Do you think it’s possible that he’s targeting you?”
The question startles me. “Targeting me for what?”
Still in that quiet voice, his gaze steady on mine, Craig says, “You’re a young, beautiful widow. Alone, in a new town, apparently with some financial means if you were able to afford the Buttercup Inn. The list of what someone like him might target you for is long.”
I don’t like the way Craig says someone like him, but I’m the one who started this line of conversation. I can’t back out now. “No, I don’t believe he’s targeting me for anything. Frankly, I think he’d be happier if I moved away and never came back.”
Craig looks doubtful. “Right. He hates you so much, he’s going insane with jealousy over there by the ice sculpture. C’mon, Megan. If someone gave him a baseball bat, he’d already be swinging it at my head.”
“How can you be so calm about that?” His smile is smug, and I have my answer. “Of course. Because you’re used to other men being jealous of you.”
He chuckles. “You say that like it’s a character defect.”
I prop my elbows on the table and drop my face into my hands. “I’m sorry, my brain is going on vacation now. You’ll have to talk to my napkin instead.”
“I have an idea.”
I groan. “I can hardly wait.”
“Let’s go talk to him and find out what the problem is.”
Horrified, I snap my head up and stare at Craig. “No.”
He grips the arms of his chair and rises a few inches from his seat. “Are you sure?”
I hiss, “Sit down, Craig, before I take my dinner knife to your testicles!”