Free Deliciously Wicked by Robyn DeHart Page A

staring. A wide smile spread across her face.
    He scowled and looked back down to his box.
    She laughed heartily, and the sound of it warmed his insides.
    â€œYou like me,” she said.
    That caught him off guard, and he found himself struggling to suppress a smile. “Do I?”
    â€œOh yes.” She met his glance. “You don’t want to admit it. But you simply can’t help yourself. Rest assured, though, that it is a normal reaction.”
    That earned her a hearty laugh of his own. “Is that so?”
    â€œIndeed. Everyone likes me.” She nodded, and her red curls bobbed. “I’m a likable sort.”
    He found himself caught in a quandary. He wanted neither to confirm her audacious remark, nor to deny it. So he ignored her and returned to his work.
    â€œIt is all right though. You can pretend to dislike me and scowl. In our previous encounters it has made me scowl as well, but no more. I am a cheerful person, and I decided not to allow you to annoy me. It shall not hurt my feelings for you to pretend to find me annoying because I know that you do, in fact, find me utterly charming.”
    He could listen to her spout her attributes no longer. “I hate to be the one to tell you, but I find you utterly bothersome. You talk too much; you’re entirely too cheerful.” He ticked each comment off on his fingers.“And you really ought not wear such dresses around working men. Makes them think of things that would turn your face as red as your hair.”
    Her mouth opened wide. From shock or irritation, Gareth could not ascertain.
    And then she frowned. Tiny creases indented her forehead, and her nose wrinkled ever so slightly. He did find her charming, but he was too stubborn to admit it. He knew that about himself, it was an error of his character, not hers. But apologizing was out of the question. It was probably for the best if she found him beastly.
    â€œPrecisely what is wrong with my dress?” she suddenly asked. “It is rather fashionable, I assure you. I only recently purchased a closet full of new clothes. Or rather my father did.”
    â€œWhy did you need a closet full of new dresses? Didn’t you already have some?”
    â€œYes, but I did not have any suitable for working,” she said quietly.
    â€œWorking?”
    â€œYes, working. While my father heals, I told him I would assist at the factory.”
    â€œYour mother has no issues with her daughter working at a factory?”
    She didn’t look up from her work; instead she seemed to be more involved with it, holding the box closer to her face. “My mother died when I was a child. So I’m not quite certain how she would react to my working here. I suspect had she lived, they would have had more children, perhaps a boy, and I would have married years ago and would be living in the country with a house full of children while my brothers would work here. But I have no brothers,” she added with a tight laugh.
    He’d hit a tender area. She was trying to pretend he hadn’t, but it was there, under the surface. Pain. It was palpable, and he knew that if he reached out he would be able to touch it briefly before she was able to tuck it away. “I didn’t realize about your mother,” he said.
    â€œHow could you?” She waved a hand in front of her. “I remember plenty of things about her. She had red hair like I do.” Her voice took on a remote quality. “And she was short, but she was very mild-mannered. Although my father has told me on many occasions that I get my spirit from her.” She smoothed a piece of blue velvet on the inside of a drawer. “What of your family?”
    â€œWhat of them?” He didn’t want to give her too much information. She was clever, and it wouldn’t take her too long to figure out he had a secret. She’d already detected the difference in his speech.
    â€œTell me about them. It will