“Just get off me,” I said, squirming underneath him. Anger would be easier. Tears would be far more difficult to explain.
“I want to talk,” he said as he released me. “I don’t want you running out when we’re having an argument I don’t understand. I was trying to do something nice and you’re upset and angry and I want to resolve this.”
I didn’t move from where he’d left me. He was a jerk for calling my family leeches, even if sometimes it felt like my parents could do more to help themselves.
On a sigh, he grabbed the scarf and tossed it in the trash. “Sod the fucking scarf. I wish I’d never listened to Stella.”
My skin seemed to shrivel as if I’d been dunked in an ice-cold lake. I’d hurt his feelings, been rude to the one person who had my back. Dexter probably thought I was being spoiled. He couldn’t know that a kind and thoughtful gift would stir up so much in me. “It just felt a bit weird,” I said, my voice small. I slid my gaze sideways, barely able to look at him.
He was sitting on the edge of the bed, his back to me, raking his fingers through his hair. He was too gorgeous. Too kind. Too good to me. “I’m sorry,” I said, reaching for him and then pulling my hand away, concerned he’d flinch if I touched him. “Maybe I’m scared I’m going to get used to . . .” Him? Anyone other than Autumn being so good to me? A life that I knew I was going to have to walk away from? “You’re just really nice to me.”
“And you’re really nice to me. Normally.”
How could he even think that? What had I done for him? “I am not.”
“What do you mean you’re not?” He turned toward me, shaking his head. “Really, Hollie, you are. Otherwise I wouldn’t be here with you.”
“Come on, Dexter. Look at everything you’ve done for me. The job, the salary, now the scarf. It’s a lot. And maybe you’re right, maybe I’m not used to some billionaire saving my ass all the time. It’s not something many girls at the Sunshine Trailer Park are used to.”
“Don’t you see that you do nice things for me too? You make food for me most nights and you’re the most amazing cook. When you’ve been here, I always find a vase of flowers on the kitchen side or—”
“Dexter, the roses I buy cost me five pounds from Tesco and I’ve only done it twice.”
“The money doesn’t matter, Hollie. You’re being kind. You’re giving. I might buy you a Hermes scarf, but I have more money than you. It’s the thought behind it—the intention.” He sighed. “Maybe I shouldn’t have . . .”
I hadn’t thought about how the cooking and the flowers could be thought of as giving. It seemed like nothing in comparison to what he’d given me, though I supposed it was. But it wasn’t a big deal. I was happy to do it—I enjoyed it. “I like cooking. I like that you like it. And I didn’t even realize you noticed the flowers,” I replied. His flat was gorgeous, like something you’d see in a magazine. Cheap flowers probably made it look worse, not better.
“I don’t want you to freak out, but you just said yourself that you don’t even realize when you’re giving, when you’re doing nice things for people. It’s ingrained in you. You’re so used to it that you don’t even see it. Usually between people, it’s a two-way street—both parties are nice to each other. I’m just not sure that’s your normal.”
“Maybe that’s true,” I said. “And maybe the reason I was so upset is that I can’t be anyone other than who I am. I’m always going to be the girl from Nowheresville, Oregon. I’m never going to be some sophisticated city girl who went to college, majored in marketing and then got a job in New York City. Even if I got out of Sunshine someday, it wouldn’t erase who I am. For me, a Hermes scarf will never not be a big deal.”
“I think who you are is kind of wonderful,” he said and my heart lifted a little, trying to find a foothold to burst out of my chest and give itself to this man in front of me.
How had I found him?
“I’m really sorry for acting crazy.” I slipped my fingers into the waistband of his jeans and pulled him toward the bed. I didn’t want to fight anymore.
“You’re a good person, Hollie. And I’m really sorry. I wasn’t trying to cast aspersions on your parents—”
I couldn’t help but laugh despite feeling as if I were in a heap of limbs at the end of a fairground ride. “‘Cast aspersions?’ You’re so British.”