"This isn't about our romantic history," Calder objects. "If someone's listed as 'Dipshit' on your phone, I don't think I'm overreaching to think his call might be unwelcome."
"I can handle it, I promise," I say. "I'm a big girl."
"How often does he call you?"
"I can handle it," I snap. I yank the dress over my head and shove my arms through the sleeves. I can't believe I'm having this argument with him. Why does he care who calls me?
For now, at least, he seems content to drop the issue. Neither of us speak as we pull on the rest of our clothes. The fuzzy, post-coital glow is gone, and now I'm only cold, wet, and annoyed. I reach around and tug on the zipper of my dress, but it gets stuck halfway up.
"Here," Calder says. Before I can object, he steps behind me and pulls my zipper up the rest of the way. His hand lingers at the base of my neck.
"I wasn't trying to push you," he says, so softly that I can barely hear him over the rain. "I was just worried, that's all."
I turn and glance up at him over my shoulder.
"I don't need you to protect me."
"We all need people to protect us sometimes."
"And sometimes," I say, stepping out of his grip, "we need the freedom to fight our own battles."
He doesn't say anything as I bend and grab the rest of my bag off the ground. I wonder if he thinks I'm going to climb back in the car. To be honest, I’m tempted. I don't want to admit defeat, even now. But this time the sensible side of me wins out.
"Let's go," I say, moving back toward the gate. "Unless you want to stay out here in this weather all day."
It's not until we're inside, dripping in the foyer, that I raise the issue of the bet.
"Looks like you'll be fulfilling your father's pledge to the Center after all," I say.
He freezes, frowns. "What?"
"Our bet," I say, surprised I have to remind him. "You lost."
He shakes his head. "I'm afraid you lost, Ms. Frazer."
"You were the one who dove into the car and grabbed me," I say, reaching up to rub the back of my head. "I still have the bump from where I hit the window. You made the first move."
"That wasn't our bet." He steps toward me, dripping water all over his fancy silk carpet. "Our bet was who would be the first one to give into their baser instincts."
"Same thing."
"Not at all." He's only a few steps from me now.
"You," he says softly, his breath caressing my cheek, "You were touching yourself."
"That wasn't part of our bet."
"It fulfills the conditions. You admitted that you were thinking of me."
I jerk back from him. "That's not what we meant by the bet, and you know it."
"Perhaps that's not what you understood it to mean, but it's what the terms dictate."
"No," I say, shaking my head. "You're not going to trick me into letting you win. You grabbed me. You kissed me. You told me you couldn't control yourself."
"If we're arguing that detail," he says, closing the distance between us again, "then you were the one who gave me complete permission to lose control."
"This is ridiculous. You just don't want to admit you've lost."
"Should we consult a third party? I can call my lawyer if you want. He has experience dealing in matters like this."
I roll my eyes. This is getting absurd.
"You owe the Center two years of the pledge money your father promised," I say.
"You won't get it."
I'm going to punch him. I'm actually going to punch him this time. He'll probably sue me or something, but it'll be worth it. What else do I have to lose at this point?
Calder must read the violence on my face because he takes a step back.
"I'm sorry, I truly am," he says. "I told you that I always keep my word, but I'm not in a position to throw away huge chunks of money just because someone misunderstood something I said."
From where I’m standing, he’s most definitely in a position where he can—and does—throw huge chunks of money at any number of things, but I can see this line of argument is going nowhere.
"Fine," I say. "Then why don't we make another bet? Double or nothing."
His eyes flash. He's intrigued.
"What did you have in mind?" he says.
Honestly, I don't know. But I'm not about to let this opportunity slip through my fingers. I glance around, desperate for ideas, but I can't even begin to think of the options in a house like this. Should I challenge him to another splash fight on the roof? Suggest a round of pool or darts in the game room?
Something he mentioned in passing during our tour pops into my mind.
"You said you used to play hide and seek with your sister?"
He raises an eyebrow. "Are you suggesting we bet on a game of hide and seek?"
In reality I have no idea what I'm suggesting. But Calder seems excited by the idea, so I decide to push it a little further.
"Perhaps," I say, making a show of glancing around. "It's fitting for a stormy day like today."
"Am I to be the one to hide or seek in this scenario of yours?" he says, drawing near me again.
I don't know what to say. He has the advantage either way. On the one hand, if he hid, then I—
What the hell am I thinking? How old am I—six?
"Forget it," I say, shaking my head. "It’s a stupid idea."
He moves toward me, and suddenly the wall's at my back. Calder leans over me.
"It's not stupid at all. In fact, I like the idea very, very much."
"That's just because you know all the good hiding spots," I say lightly, trying to make a joke of it. I don't trust the way my heart is beating. I don't trust myself when he's so close.
He chuckles and props a hand on the wall beside my head, closing me in.
"We can bend the rules easily enough," he says. "Make it a little more even for you."
I look up at him through my lashes. "And how, exactly, do you suggest we do that?"
His eyes darken as they hold my own.
"I'll give you a massive head start," he says with a wicked smile.
"That's not an advantage. That should be a standard rule in a house this size. It probably takes half an hour to walk from one side to the other." I frown up at him. "And who's to say that I'll be the one hiding?"
"As you pointed out, I know all the good spots already," he says. "Besides, I rather like the idea of chasing you down. It's very… primal, isn't it?"