She inched another step closer. “You’re avoiding the fact that you said something nice about me.”
“Pfft.” He fluttered his lips and stalked back, needing to space to think. “I say all kinds of nice things about you.”
Rosabel folded her arms. “Sure you do.”
“I do. You’re just never around to hear it.”
Her eyes softened in a way they never had before, revealing the vulnerability he’d sensed the minute she’d stepped in. What was going on? Typically, she was all claws-out, ready to spring. “Why not?” Her voice was deathly soft.
“What?”
“Why don’t you ever tell me nice things?”
Duncan cleared his throat. “I don’t know.” He hurried to think of something to douse the heat in her gaze. “Look. I’m heading out of town and …” Now or never. For some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to ask her. “And … I need you to pick up my dry cleaning. I have to start packing.”
“Dry cleaning?” Her jaw quivered, and the sight of tears welling in her eyes took him aback. “If you had any idea what I just—” She slammed her eyes closed, holding a hand to stop him as though he were in the process of advancing toward her. Rosabel drew in a slow breath and gradually lifted her long lashes. Her jaw was set. Her eyes were fire. He couldn’t figure out why this set her off. Picking up his dry cleaning was a regular thing. “Fine. You want me to quit? I quit.”
“What?”
Rosabel stormed from his office without answering, her hips swaying, her heels clacking on the floor.
Duncan felt as though a brick struck him. She wasn’t supposed to accept. She was supposed to quip back the way they always did. Against his better judgment, he called after her, too loud to be inconspicuous. “Rosabel, wait!”
She spun, nostrils flaring. Gopher heads popped over the tops of cubicles once more. Duncan’s ears flamed. Usually, their nosiness didn’t bother him—he could snap and crackle, and they would pop right back to what they were doing before. This was different somehow. He got the feeling he’d hurt Rosabel, and he wasn’t sure what to do about it.
“Don’t go yet,” he said, shifting his gaze around at the eavesdroppers. “Come back in my office. We can talk there.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
Her jaw clenched. Too late, he realized he had reached for her. Rosabel shook him off. He’d never manhandled a woman that way before—never mind what people thought of him.
Her shifting gaze told him she felt the weight of their avid audience.
“Don’t you all have work to do?” Duncan snapped toward the onlookers.
Rosabel jutted her chin, fury raging in her expression. “I’ll come, but because I want to. Not because you’re demanding it of me.” She brushed past him, sweeping her perfume in his direction.
Duncan trudged after her, cursing the onlooking eyes. If there weren’t rumors about him and Rosabel before, there certainly would be now. He slammed his office door for good measure.
“What was that about?” he snarled. “You can’t just up and quit.”
She pierced him with a glower.
“Come on, Rosie. I can tell something is bothering you. What’s going on?”
“My father has Alzheimer’s.”
Duncan’s mouth dropped. Serious conversations weren’t what he was after, but he couldn’t dismiss this. Rosabel had never been open with him about anything personal before. If he was being honest with himself, he hadn’t ever really considered her personal life. She was only someone who was fun to argue with.
But Alzheimer’s? No wonder she appeared to be hanging on by a thread.
“He has Alzheimer’s,” she repeated, brow pinched and tears seeping down her cheeks. “He needs constant care, and I can’t be there for him if I’m here working for you, the Jerky Beast Boss who can’t be bothered to compliment me to my face. Do you have any idea how much I do for you, and you can’t even say ‘thank you’?” Her voice climbed in pitch.
Duncan gestured to the chair in front of his desk. “Maybe you should sit down.”
“I don’t want to.”
He lifted his hands. “Okay, then. Quit. See how well you’ll care for your dad when you’re too broke to feed yourself.”
“You have some nerve.”
“Just putting things into perspective for you.”
She bared her teeth. “Believe me, I have plenty of perspective. I’m stuck. I’m totally stuck. You clearly take me for granted. So give me one good reason why I should stay.”
“Because I need you—”
Eyes wide, she lifted her chin.
He thought quickly, hurrying to remedy what had almost sounded like some kind of romantic admission. “I need you to come to Arkansas with me.”
He wanted some way to smooth things over with his family. Maybe if they met and liked Rosabel, their approval could iron out his family’s years-long mix-up. He’d been in a sort of battle-of-the-sexes association with Rosabel since she’d started working for him. That was a relationship all on its own, wasn’t it? The only unknown was Rosabel. His family would never accept that he was dating his assistant. Would she consider a change to their relationship? Taking things between them up a step?
Duncan blamed Maddox. If his best friend’s fake relationship with his model hadn’t turned out so amazingly, Duncan would never have given this a second thought. But a fake relationship might be what both he and Rosabel needed.
Duncan strolled to the window and parted the blinds with two fingers. The street below was noisy with cars and traffic—which, for a small town like Westville, Vermont, was saying something. “My grandmother is turning ninety-five.” He spoke with his back to her, knowing innately that she was still there, still listening.
“Congratulations.” She didn’t sound like she meant it.
Duncan smirked and faced her. “I’ve been invited home to celebrate her birthday, but I’d prefer not to go alone.”
“What does that mean?”
“I want them to think I’m seeing someone.”
“Aren’t you?”
If he was, she would know. She knew his schedule better than he did.
Duncan scraped a hand behind his neck. “Yeah. You.”
Rosabel shook her head. “You’re so full of yourself.”
“I may have mentioned I’d bring someone to the party, and since I didn’t tell her who, my mother may have misconstrued the nature of our relationship.”
“Your mom thinks we’re dating too? Is there anyone who doesn’t?” Rosabel folded her arms. “What exactly have you been saying about me to give her that impression?”
“Nothing,” he said, too defensively. “You just come into my mind more than I realize, I guess, so when she asked, I assumed you’d come.”
“And why is that?”
“Because I’m stuck being around you all the time.”
Her almond eyes thinned to slits. “If you’re about to ask something of me, you’re not off to a great start.”
“I’m just saying, well, enough people think we’re dating. Why don’t we?”