Page 12 of Cross the Line
Willow could get me there. She obviously knows her shit, and she’s got the degree to back it up. And, more importantly, she actually wants to see me succeed. This girl cheered for me and Oakley from the tiny stands at our karting races, and she’s still cheering for me now. What else could I possibly want out of a fixer?
She’s still talking, but the words leave my mouth before I can stop them. ‘I think I know how to fix this. All of this.’
She stops, scrunching her brow. ‘And how’s that?’
I take a deep breath. It’s now or never. ‘You, Willow. I needyou.’
CHAPTER 5
Willow
‘You, Willow. I needyou.’
The place my brain goes when Dev says those words is nowhere near appropriate for our relationship or current venue. I can only hope he can’t see the way I’ve flushed from head to toe or feel the heat radiating off me, because I’m practically the same temperature as the surface of the sun.
I’ve had such a hard time keeping it together since Chava and Mark abandoned us that I’ve resorted to rambling on about marketing and image recovery in an attempt to avoid awkward silence, but then he had the nerve to open his mouth and say heneedsme.
I think I’m going to faint. Or puke. Maybe both? Oh god, I don’t know.
He’s scrutinizing me, his brown eyes wide and his face hopeful. All I can do in return is gape at him like a fish.
‘Can you . . . repeat that?’ I request, amazed that the words are coherent.
I expect him to rephrase and tone down the way he’s looking at me, because he’s gazing like my face holds all the answers to the universe. Obviously, it doesn’t, so I’dloveto know what exactly is going through his mind right now.
But Dev’s expression doesn’t dull. Not one bit. And the next thing I know, he’s gripping my shoulders and standing even closer. His proximity sends the scent of his cologne and something uniquely him wafting around me.
‘You’re exactly what I need, Willow.’
Fourteen-year-old me would have absolutely lost her mind and collapsed into a puddle of goo at that kind of confession from Dev. Twenty-one-year-old me, however, takes a step back and puts her hands up. I don’t like where this is headed. We’ve already made our mistakes; we don’t need to make more.
‘I’m gonna need you to explain your thought process here,’ I say slowly. ‘Because you’re not making sense.’
That gets him to blink, and some of the reverence in his eyes clears away. Another second passes before he drops his hands from my shoulders and takes a step back too. ‘Oh, shit. Sorry,’ he blurts, glancing around, likely checking to see if anyone noticed the interaction. ‘Got a little caught up.’
‘Uh-huh.’ The heat of his touch lingers on my skin, but I do my best to pay it no mind. ‘So . . . explain, please?’
‘Yeah. Right. Okay.’ He inhales deeply, his hands lifted, palms pressed together like he’s ready to beg or pray. ‘Willow . . . I think you can fix me. I think you can fix my image. I’d like to hire you to do it.’
Once again, I’m lost for words as my brain tries to compute what he’s just said. He wants to . . . hire me? To fix his image?
‘Is this a joke?’ I blurt, leaning to one side to peer around him, waiting for a camera crew or some guy with a phone to pop out and saygotcha!‘Did Oakley put you up to this?’
Dev’s brows furrow, and he drops his hands to his sides. ‘What? No. I literally came up with the idea while you were talking.’ He wets his lips and stares at me like he’s searching for the right words to say.
He better search hard, because I can’t take many more of these vague statements about being needed.
‘I want you to help me do all the things you said would fix this. You’re perfect.’ Oh god, again with the compliments that make my heart tumble over itself. ‘You clearly know how to handle situations like this, and I’d be lucky to have you working with me. So, what do you say?’
Right now, I can’t say a single thing. There’s no way he’s asking what I think he is. ‘But why me?’ I finally manage. ‘Yes, I know what I’m doing. Kind of. But don’t you want someone with more experience? Someone with a proven track record? Someone who’s actually done this as a job?’
Dev shakes his head. ‘I’ve had that, and it didn’t work for me. Plus, I . . .’ He takes a breath, his eyes darting away from me for a second before coming back. The vulnerability in their depths surprises me. ‘I don’t trust many people right now, all right? The idea of handing myself over to just anyone scares the shit out of me.’
‘And you trustme?’ I scoff.
I feel a little bad when the corners of his mouth flick down, but he’s got to get this through his head.
‘Come on,’ I try to reason. ‘I’ve known you since we were kids. I know all the stuff you and my brother got up to. I could make what your old social media manager did look like child’s play. We both know I have more blackmail material than almost anyone.’
