“That’s if Eden can do it.”
“Eden will nail it.” Artie nodded ahead. “Come on and take a look at this outcropping. When I saw the pictures, I thought it would be perfect for the opening.”
I followed her, spent all of three seconds looking and knew immediately she was right. We’d pan up the cliffs, watch the wind whipping around the heroine’s hair, her clothes, witness the paper flying from her hand and spinning and tumbling over the edge. “You’re right.”
She grinned, clasped her hands to her chest. “I do love it when you’re honest with me.”
Honest, as in I often still woke up hard after dreaming about her all night? Or maybe honest as in I still jerked off to the little sounds she’d made when I’d licked her pussy?
Instead of asking her either of those questions, I brought us back to the previous topic, the one she’d so masterfully avoided. “So, what were you oh fucking about before?”
She sighed. “I hate it when you’re smart.”
“Lie.”
Another sigh. “I also hate that you have two older sisters that are younger than me.”
“Age is just a number.”
“Quoting my mantra back to me doesn’t discount the fact that I slept with their baby brother and they’re younger than me.”
My pulse picked up. We didn’t talk about our night together, didn’t even allude to it. Not ever. That she’d mentioned it—
“Who cares that they’re younger?” I asked carefully.
Artie shrugged. “I don’t, not really. Just that it’s the truth, and I’m a woman over forty, which means that half of society already hates me and the other half thinks that I’m a shriveled up prune.”
My brows drew together. “I’m part of society, and I don’t think that.”
“Okay, so one percent of society thinks I’m all right.”
“Artie.” I touched her arm. “You’re beautiful and capable and smart—”
She groaned, batted me away. “Don’t try to be logical when I’m having a weak moment.”
“You’re far from weak.”
She sighed. “And you’re too damned sweet and honest, but I’ll take the compliment anyway.” She visibly shook off her insecurity, replacing it with a mask I knew too well—calm and charming and totally superficial. “I’m just having a weird day. Must be all these hormones, you know how they flare in old age,” she added with a chuckle.
I hated it, hated the mask, hated the way she used it to prevent her from having to present herself to the world.
But it also wasn’t my place to push.
She’d chosen to put the distance between us, and that was where it would stay. I didn’t have any right to barge through barriers, not when our intimacy hadn’t extended to more than one night. Plus, now that we were working together, it was even more critical that the distance stay in place. We needed to be collaborators, friends, soundboards, but we also shouldn’t be anything more than that.
Not the right time.
Even if I wished it was.
“Just be happy you weren’t living here two hundred years ago,” I said, purposefully going along with the reappearance of Artie’s mask and allowing her to change the subject. Vibrant blue eyes met mine, and she proved that whatever chemistry we had that made us seem to always be on the same wavelength was still in effect.
“Because of the dresses.”
“Yup,” I said, reaching out for her braid and pretending to make it flap in the breeze. “The fabric would blow you and all this hair right off the cliffs.”
She grinned. “Just in time for a dashing hero to dive to my rescue.”
I snorted. “More like, she’d save herself.”
Artie laughed and leaned close enough that I could smell the soft, floral scent of her shampoo. “You’re learning.” She nudged me with her shoulder. “But alas, those dresses were heavy, especially when they got wet. I think she’d need that dashing hero to swoop in and save the day.”
“Should we test that theory?” I teased, giving her a mock-shove toward the edge. “I bet those jeans will absorb a lot of water.”
“Don’t you dare!” she said on a gasp, darting away from me.
“Come on,” I cajoled. “It’s not that far of a jump.”
“Not that far?” She swept out her arm. “It’s like fifty feet!”
“Meh.” I snagged her arm, lightly tugging her back to the cliffs. By now, we were a good ten feet from the edge, but she shrieked and yanked away from me.
“So not funny, Pierce.”
“From my angle, it was hilarious.” She rolled her eyes, spinning on a huff. “Careful,” I warned, seeing she was headed for some loose rocks.
“Nice try—”
She slipped.
What happened next was something my mind could barely process, let alone my body ever having hope of replicating it. I lurched forward, grabbing Artie by the waist, attempting to steady her so she didn’t take a header in the sharp rocks, but she was off-balance, limbs flailing . . . which meant that her fist flew up and clocked me right in the eye. I groaned, lost my grip on her, and our feet got tangled, propelling us to a painful collision with the rocky ground.
The only reason I was able to hold on to my man card in the clusterfuck of limbs was because I managed to grab her arm and spin us slightly, so I took the brunt of the impact, Artie landing hard on my stomach.
We lay there for a few moments, me with a smarting eye, an aching set of butt cheeks, and her . . . thinking who knew what? Eventually, though, I managed to squeeze out. “Are you okay?”
She groaned. “My ass.”
I could second that notion. “Want me to pick us up a pair of those donut pillows?”
“Hilarious,” she muttered. “This is your fault.” She started to push out of the circle of my arms then stopped, staring out at the cliffs. “Can you imagine how pissed our insurance company would have been if we fell off the fucking cliff?”
I bit back a laugh, heart settling now that I’d managed to get us out of the situation relatively unscathed—asses and left eye aside. “Probably really pissed,” I agreed, sitting up and taking her with me. “But I don’t know why you’re blaming me. I’m not the one who decided to tap dance through some loose rocks.”
“Oh, maybe because someone was threatening to throw me off a cliff in order to test his hero skills.”
I snorted as Artie slowly stood, stretching out her spine with a wince. “As if you thought I was serious.”
“Fair point,” she muttered. “Maybe I do need a hero to come in and save the day, since I can’t even walk on a flat surf—oh my God! Pierce. Your eye.”
I brought my hand up, gently palpated the skin around it. “It’s fine.”
“It’s already purple! Oh shit, I hurt you.” Her hands began flapping over my chest and face. “Oh my God. It’s already bruising, and I—”
“It’s fine.” I captured her hands. “Bonus is I’m going to have a hell of a story to lord over you the next few years.”