Truth or Beard(81)

“To an extent?” I asked.

“Yeah, to an extent.”

He left me at the door and crossed to one of the file cabinets. I wandered in after him, glancing around as he fished in a drawer for a few seconds. “Be more specific. What do you mean to an extent?”

He then withdrew something wrapped in a plastic bag and poked a hole to rip it open. “Well, take you for example.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you. You’re almost too honest.”

I considered him and his statement for a beat, not sure if it was compliment, or an insult, or a complisult; when I couldn’t make up my mind I asked, “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

“A good thing, real good,” he answered with no hesitation, drawing a set of new coveralls out of the plastic bag. “I like it. I’ve always liked it. But I worry for you sometimes.”

Now, that made my insides feel soft and warm. I was walking toward him without realizing I was moving, obviously he had me caught in some kind of charming tractor beam. “You worry for me?”

“Yes. Most of the time what you’re thinking is on your face, like an open book for anyone to read. I guess…” He paused like he didn’t know whether or not to continue, but then eventually shrugged. “It reminds me of my momma and my sister. You’re guileless, trusting, and that’s great for me. But it can also make you a target.”

“I’m not that trusting.”

Duane’s eyes narrowed and he issued me a sly smile. “Yes, you are.”

“I’m not,” I protested, feeling my hackles rise.

“Okay, whatever you say.” He shrugged, handing me the coveralls, obviously making a half-assed effort to pacify me.

I clenched my jaw, liking and disliking the way his sly smile lingered. “You think I’m naïve. I am not naïve. I’m worldlier than you know.” Naïve had always sounded like an insult to me, akin to childish.

“I’m just saying, when you trust someone, you really trust that person. You’ve always been that way, ever since we were kids.”

I studied him, wondering why we were talking about this; therefore I eventually asked, “Why are we talking about this? Are you trying to tell me not to trust you?”

“I would never tell you that.”

“That’s not a satisfactory answer.”

His features cracked with an involuntary smile. Then he took six steps forward, walking me backward until I was against the wall. Though he was invading my space, he didn’t touch me. I had to lift my chin to keep administering the dirty look I’d adopted.

“Jessica,” he whispered, his gaze sweeping over my face like he was attempting to memorize this dirty look I was giving him. “My priority is making sure all your dreams come true. You can trust me on that.”

“But can I trust you not to push me into a lake while I’m in my Sunday best? Or switch out my travel magazines with Urology journals?”

He nodded and placed a gentle kiss on my nose, but as he retreated he said, “No.”

“No?”

“No. If I get a chance to push you into a lake, I’m probably going to take it, especially if you’re wearing that dress.” His eyes flickered down just briefly, then back to mine.

I huffed, felt my dirty look transform into a disappointed frown. “See now, I’ve been working under the assumption you liked me.”

Duane’s sly smile returned and his eyes heated; I recognized this look, it was his I’ve got plans look. “I do like you, Jessica. See now, that dress is white. And if it got wet, it wouldn’t matter if you left it on or took it off.”

I kept my eyes narrowed, though I felt my own involuntary smile tug at the corner of my lips. A lovely spreading warmth moved from my chest to my stomach to my thighs. I remembered the solemn promise I’d made to myself during church, not to fling my heart or my panties in his direction, to be circumspect and mindful.

He was making it very hard to keep my solemn promises, let alone be mindful.

Nevertheless, and even though I was starting to feel that uncontrollable, desperate, building sense of urgency, I managed to squeak out, “I’d like some privacy while I change, please.”

The light behind Duane’s eyes wavered, like I’d said something to confuse him. “You want some privacy?”

I nodded.

“Really?” He took a step back.

I nodded again.

His smile was gone and in its place was a thoughtful—verging on concerned—frown; he examined me for a bit longer then said, “You can trust me, Jess. You know that, right?”

“I know. And I do—”

“Good.”