One Bossy Proposal: Enemies to Lovers Romance

I thought if I just stayed away—if I kept us apart—I could spare us the pain.

Wrong. This exile is killing me.

Dakota Poe, you scare me, and you also keep me honest.

My recklessness speaks for itself. The truth of how deep my feelings are for you.

You’re the spark I needed to come along, shine right through me, and show me that what’s truly frightening is spending my entire life denying my biggest passion—you.

Woman, I need you back in my life.

I’ll do whatever you want except walk away without another word.

Love,

Lincoln

Holy crap, holy crap, holy crap!

Hot tears run down my cheeks in rivulets.

God. How could anyone not cry after that?

And how am I supposed to stay strong when he’s sending love letters by raven?

I clutch the letter with one hand, wiping away my tears with the other.

I’m about to retreat into his office so I can get back to my desk and hide, but I see Anna, Cheryl, and Jane standing behind the glass door gawking at me. They’ve got what looks like a peanut gallery of twenty people behind them.

Just flipping great. There’s no escape.

My choices are stand on this balcony forever, fling myself over it, or slink back inside and deal with a barrage of awkward questions like I’m the President of Bad Decisions holding a press conference.

Diving off the building looks more appealing all the time. I’m joking.

Maybe if I just stand here long enough, they’ll get bored and go away so I can make my way in with my tail between my legs?

“Dakota?” A velvet voice vibrates behind me like distant thunder.

Uh-oh.

I know it’s him before I even turn around.

The few stray tears streaming down my face burst into a harsh sob that racks my entire body.

My hands shake. My being trembles. My heart knows this is it.

It’s either turn around and face him or run.

I’m not sure which is worse.

Until he says, “Nevermore, if you keep crying, at least do it where your head belongs.”

I turn toward his voice.

He comes at me with his arms outstretched. He closes the distance between us until his fingers brush my arms, gingerly clasping them, pulling me in.

It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done to bury my face against his wall of a chest.

Harder than wearing a wedding dress in a honeymoon suite with no husband.

Harder than sparring over cinnamon rolls.

Harder than watching that last pained look on his face as he told me to get out of his life.

But I push my face into him.

I lay my cheek against his warmth, his strength, his everything, and breathe.

I’m inhaling Lincoln Burns like it’s the very last time, because God, it might be. I take a few deep, rattling breaths of his masculine scent before I lurch back.

His eyes glow like dark amber, searching mine, asking so many questions.

The letter was sweet, sure, but it’s not a conversation.

I can’t just run back to him so easily.

“Dakota?” His face tightens and his arms drop to his sides. “I don’t blame you for being scared—for questioning me. You didn’t want to be hurt. We’re on the same page. I just do a better job of hiding my emotions.”

Why is he making this so hard?

I gather another reluctant breath into my lungs.

His eyes are so intense today, heat lamps that melt me into a puddle right here on the balcony.

But even if I’m boneless, I can’t go down this road again.

I can’t be stupid.

Dakota, find your strength.

Lincoln Burns shared his truth in that letter, and now, it’s my turn.

24

All My Soul Within Me (Lincoln)

Dakota takes another step away from me.

It might as well be a thousand miles.

My heart slams against my rib cage.

Fuck, what if she doesn’t care? What if she refuses to give me a second chance? What then?

“You—you had to force your way in with a trained raven? Seriously?” she spits, beyond exasperated.

I smile faintly and shrug one shoulder.

“Do you know how hard it is to find trained messenger birds in Seattle in the twenty-first century? Something had to drive home how much I care.” I flick my eyes to the window, where every woman in the office and even a few men stare out at us. I lower my voice so no one in our unwanted audience hears me. “Do you remember the night in my office when I traced your tattoo?”

She tries hard not to smile, but she can’t stop her lips from turning up as her face reddens.

Dakota gives me an awkward nod.

“You said it was a work in progress. The raven clutching a broken heart, something you added after that sorry little fuck threw away your love. Nevermore.” I come closer, taking her hand in mine and pinning it between us against her chest. “Let me give you fresh ink. Never more will your heart be broken in my hands. You have my word.”