“She does want me. She’s been protecting me. She thinks she isn’t smart enough to date me. She’s had issues with reading and writing, and from what she says I think she’s dyslexic. That’s something I can help her with. Once that problem is gone, she won’t worry about us being too different to make a relationship work.”
“She isn’t smart enough for you. Most people aren’t. For the love of all things Gucci, you have an IQ that reads like a phone number. People are queuing up to get at your latest code. You see holes in programming security most experts would never see. And she”—Rachel huffed in disgust—“works in a shop and likes to play in an abandoned mine. From what you say, I doubt she even knows how to turn a computer on. Have you thought about her in all of this? Mmm? If your intelligence intimidates her, how upset would she be around your friends? Your colleagues? You aren’t doing her any favours throwing her into a world she barely understands. It will only make her feel more inadequate.”
Harry thought about that for a minute as his stomach churned. Would it hurt her? Her self-esteem had taken a kicking these past few years. Maybe pushing her to deal with his overly educated circle of friends was a bad idea. He shook his head. Magenta wasn’t that easily intimidated. He wasn’t going to think like this.
“It will be fine,” Harry said. “Get the paperwork for the lease and I’ll sign it.”
“Are you sure?” Rachel cocked an eyebrow at him. “Self-esteem is a delicate thing. If your girl is worried she isn’t clever enough for you, then she may never get over that.”
“I’m sure.” Harry strode towards the door. “I’m going to help her. It will all be fine, you’ll see.”
With that, he left Rachel to deal with the lease and headed to the local high school to have a word with his old English teacher, Mrs. Adams. Maybe together they could find a way to fix the damage in Magenta’s past.
Magenta was in a bad mood. She was also late for work, which didn’t help her disposition any. She was annoyed that she’d caved and told Harry she loved him—even if it was true. It didn’t solve anything. She was still the village idiot and he was still the genius boy wonder. No matter how much she’d convinced herself that they had a future, she knew they didn’t. It was a delusion brought on by lust. Lust and his really talented tongue.
To complement her mood, she’d worn her “leave me alone” outfit to work. Black mini-skirt, black bat-wing top with the words “Back Off Bitch” written in red across her chest, a studded dog collar, studded belt, red tartan tights and black Doc Marten boots. She’d painted her eyes with even more eyeliner than usual and coated her nails with blood-red polish.
“Excellent, you made the effort to turn up. Well done,” Kirsty said when she arrived.
Magenta ignored the sarcasm. “I’m sorry.”
“Want to give me a reason for you being late?”
What was this? School? No, she didn’t want to give a reason. Especially when that reason involved her being in bed with Harry. The town already knew too much about her sex life without her adding to it.
Kirsty sighed. “I see you’re all decked out to be delightful to my customers.”
Magenta growled. “I was going to strap a knife to my thigh. I didn’t.”
Kirsty’s eyes went wide. “And that’s supposed to make me feel grateful?”
Magenta stomped over to the new posters that were to go up in the store window. Each one showed a perfectly stunning Victoria’s Secret model. She hated them all.
“Who put the bug up your bum?” Kirsty said. “Come on. What’s the problem?”
Magenta almost cracked a smile. Kirsty never said things like that. She glared at her friend. “Harry.” Magenta figured one word was enough.
Kirsty let out a dramatic sigh. She was going for a wood nymph look in a leaf-green chiffon top with long, billowing sleeves, over beige suede trousers. With her red hair and green eyes, she was beyond stunning. Exactly like the models on the posters. Not fair. Not fair at all. Damn, everything was getting to her. Now Magenta thought she didn’t look good enough for Harry. She growled at herself, irritated that her thoughts were so girly.
“Why won’t you date the guy?” Kirsty said. “You might be surprised and actually enjoy it.”
She was glad Kirsty didn’t know exactly how much she enjoyed Harry.
“Harry doesn’t want to date. He wants to get straight to the marriage and baby part. He’s come back for his soul mate. He thinks it’s me. He’s never done things by halves. So dating him won’t work.”
“Marriage? Babies? Did he say that?” Kirsty’s voice was an insulting squeak.
“More like implied it, with the ‘you’re mine forever,’ ‘we were made for each other’ comments he keeps making.”
“You and Harry, having babies? Children? Heaven help us. Miniature computer geniuses who dress only in black and hate almost everyone who crosses their paths. The world wouldn’t be safe. On second thoughts, don’t date Harry. Run from him. Run fast.”
“Funny,” Magenta told her friend and boss. “Very funny.” Magenta figured that with her being so stupid and Harry being so smart, their kids might end up with an IQ somewhere in the middle. They might actually be normal. She almost screamed. Why the hell was she thinking about kids? She was twenty-one. Too young to get married. Too young to have children. And definitely too young to deal with someone who thought he was her soul mate.
“He said he loves me,” she found herself telling Kirsty. Her mouth would not stay shut. It was like a compulsion, this sudden need to bare her soul.
She heard a thud, and turned to find Kirsty had dropped the box of hangers she’d been holding.
“I told him I love him too. It came out under duress.” She was still annoyed about that.