True for You(29)

“Want some company?” I call out.

Bliss starts, then looks up at me and crosses her arms over her chest. “No.”

I grin at that no, wait another minute, and ask, “What about now?”

“No.” She tips up her nose and looks away. “And I won’t want company in five minutes either.”

I start to laugh, unable to help myself. “Ten minutes from now? I’ll bring some of those nasty hot snaps you like.”

“Maybe in eleven,” she grumbles. “And they’re not nasty. They’re yummy. You just have a delicate stomach.”

Victory is mine. Laughing at her opinion of my digestive system, I go inside, check on dinner, and grab the bag of candy, before heading to Bliss.

She scowls at me. “It’s only been five minutes.”

“But I brought candy.”

Her lips smash together and she hmpfs.

I sit down beside her, pour some hot snaps into my hand, and wave it under her nose. “You can’t say no to candy.”

“No,” she whispers.

“What’s that?” I ask, cupping a hand against my ear.

“You heard me.” She sighs. “I’m taking your advice by standing up to you, but you’re making it hard on me. I love hot snaps. Candy is my one weakness.”

I store that bit of knowledge in the back of my head. “Taking my advice?” I stretch out an arm along the back of the swing, my fingers brushing her shoulder. Bliss sits forward, then back, and loose curls fall on my arm. “Haven’t you figured out I’m an open-mouth-insert-foot type of guy?”

She turns my palm over and dumps the candy into her hand. I hide a smile. “No, you’re an always-used-to-getting-your-way type of celebrity.”

Well, she has me there. I am used to getting my way, with most people, because of my celebrity status. I don’t want Bliss telling me no because of it, though. I want her to say yes or no to me, the man.

“Care to have dinner with your husband?” I shake the bag. “You can eat dessert first, if you want.”

She looks at me, calm and steady. “And if I say no, then what—you’ll throw more things around in the kitchen?”

I flush. “Heard that, huh?”

She nods. “Your hands gave it away, too.”

“It’s all cleaned up. Did you come out here because you were scared?” Of me, I want to add, but I don’t. I’ve only made a jackass of myself one other time, with the temper I’d inherited from my dad, and Bliss had been the one to witness it. Our conversation had been nearly identical to the one earlier.

“Go away, Jackson.” She says the ck portion of my name softly, unlike the hard x of my stage name. I blame my ears for picking up on the nuance.

I’m not sure what to make of her using my given name. She’s never done it before. “Bliss—”

“I said, go away.” She bites off the thread and stands, hanging up the shirt before smoothing it out. Then she packs up her supplies.

“Just wanted to make sure you’re all right.”

She turns to walk past me, head down, like she’s all defeated. “I’m fine. Thank you.”

Thank you? My temper snaps. “Grow a damn backbone, Bliss, and tell me off.”

Her head snaps up, full lips mutinous. It’s the first hint of anger I’ve ever seen on her face. “I’m not about to give you a reason to feel better.”

“What?”

“Most people think that turning into some screaming banshee somehow proves you’re this strong woman who doesn’t take crap from a man, but from what I know, it only gives the other person the right to feel better.”

In some weird, twisted way, her logic makes sense. I had wanted her to yell at me, to cuss me out, or even throw something at me, because I know how to deal with that. It would make me feel better if she got back at me.

But this way… I feel worse than ever.

Maybe I underestimated her.

“Or hit them,” she adds softly.

That stops me cold, colder than when Violet caught us. “Hit them?”

She nods, holding the small, plastic container in her hands out in front of her, like a barrier. Or a shield.

“I scared you, didn’t I?” The last thing I’d ever want to do is scare her, even if I’d already done it. I’ll never do it again. I’ll find another way to express my anger and frustration.

She shakes her head, sending dark, curly hair swaying. “Not really.”

I don’t want to ask, but I do it anyway. “Why is that?”

“Because I’ve lived through worse.”



“A little,” she says softly, mercifully pulling me out of my head.