Considering Paxton brought me to that point three times last night, Matt was bound to hear something.
“I could boink every night for the next year and scream like a banshee the entire time, and it wouldn’t come anywhere close to what I’ve heard coming from your apartment.”
“So, there was boinking. I see.” He snorts a little, going for another dumpling.
“Why not? We’re dating.”
“So, is it true what they say?”
I shouldn’t ask. I shouldn’t even entertain him. “Is what true?” I ask against my better judgment.
“Is everything bigger in Texas?”
“You are such a pig!” But I can’t help the way my cheeks flush. It’s a sensation that spreads down my throat and to my chest.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” He laughs at my reaction. “Lighten up. It’s not such a big deal.”
“Then, why did you bring it up?”
“Don’t you know by now how I love to see you squirm?”
I look at Phoebe, who looks at me with her soulful doggy eyes. “Seriously, how do you put up with him?”
“So, how much longer is Prince Charming going to be in town?”
“He’ll go home this weekend.”
“So, I guess that would be the end of that. I hope you got enough information for your book.”
I glance up from my tofu and vegetables with a shrug. “Actually, he mentioned something about having me come out to visit him next week.”
“Oh, really?” There’s a flatness in his voice now. He’s not wearing that shit-eating grin anymore.
“Don’t worry; I’ll still be here to watch Phoebe. I already told him I have responsibilities this weekend.”
“It’s very generous of him to allow you to help a friend in need.”
“Considering I’m the writer, you have a way of being overly dramatic about things that even I don’t understand. And that’s saying something.” When he doesn’t fire back a snarky response, I add, “Is there something you’re not telling me? Something about him? Do you know more about his situation that I don’t?”
“You’re just going to get mad at me.”
“That’s a great start. I hope you know you’d better keep going, or you’ll get a chopstick through the eye.”
“Rumors make their way around.” He shrugs. “I don’t pay attention to most of what I hear. By the time I hear gossip about these heavy hitters, it’s usually already been passed through five or six different people. Like one long game of telephone. By the time news gets to me, there’s no telling how much of it is completely made up.”
“What did you hear? Seriously, tell me. I will lock you in this apartment until you do.”
“You do realize, there are worse things in life, right? I mean, it’s a pretty comfortable apartment.”
“You don’t think I could make your life miserable if I put my mind to it?”
He winces. “Fair enough. It’s just that I remember reading in some news item a few months ago that he was seriously involved with the daughter of some big oil tycoon down in Texas.”
“I was dating someone a while ago. So what?”
“I’m talking, merger potential. Both business and personal.” He lowers his brow, eyes boring into me. “You know what I’m saying.”
“He was engaged?”
“I don’t know for sure really.”
“Then, why even bring it up if you don’t know? Why would I care about what he was doing a few months ago? Unless he was serving time for murder or something like that, it’s none of my business. We’re only casually seeing each other.”
“Give me a break, Valentine. I heard you over here today, singing to yourself. All happy and stuff. When I came in, you were smiling for no reason. And now, your shoulders are up around your ears, and you’re defensive and upset.”
Why is it making me so uncomfortable, having this conversation with him? We usually discuss just about everything under the sun, and it almost never bothers me. But this? Maybe because it feels like an invasion of privacy.
Maybe because I don’t want to hear what he has to say about Paxton.
“That’s where the gossip comes in,” he continues. When he puts his food aside, I know he’s serious, so for the sake of not getting in a fight, I put my food aside as well and face him head-on. “Rumor had it at the time that he was dating this girl and thinking about getting married for himself and for the business. That’s where the merger part comes in.”
“So, what you’re saying is, he’s only interested in a relationship with somebody who’s going to help save his company down the line?”
“That’s the long and short of it. Hey, don’t shoot the messenger.” He holds his hands up in surrender. “That’s the way it goes for some of these businesses. These wealthy tycoons, they have to protect what’s theirs, and if there’s trouble or the potential for it down the line, they’ll do what they can to lessen the damage.”
Darn it.
Why does he have to do this?
Why does he have to make me unhappy?
I was flying high earlier; my heart had wings. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about last night—the heat, the tenderness, and the mind-blowing, toe-curling pleasure. He worshipped me, cherished me. We connected more deeply than I have with a man in just about as long as I can remember.
When the stinging starts behind my eyes, I know I’m in big trouble. Which is why I get up, go to the kitchen, and rummage around in the fridge like I’m looking for something. Really, I don’t want him to see me cry.
“You’re upset,” he announces from his place on the couch.
“No, I’m not.”
“Then, why are you standing there with your head in the fridge and your back turned to me?”
“You know, there are times when I’m pretty sure you get off on upsetting me. And it’s not enough to upset me, but you have to pick at it.” I probably slam the refrigerator door harder than necessary, but now, I’m mad. On the verge of furious in fact.
He has the nerve to look surprised, even offended. “I’m trying to be your friend!”
“No, you can’t stand to see me happy for even two minutes of my life. After everything I’ve gone through in this freaking experiment Maggie insisted I start with—much of which you’ve been aware of—I finally feel good. I feel like this could be right. This could go someplace. So, naturally, you have to come in with a big, sharp pin and stick it in my balloon. Do you take pleasure in this?”
“I should’ve known.” He gets his things together, closing up half-full containers and stacking them to take back to his apartment. “Some people can’t be helped.”
“Oh, you’re such a sweet person,” I snap. “What a generous guy you are. What a saint.”
“You’re being nasty and childish.”
“And you’re obsessed with my personal life because yours has gone down the tubes!”
I know the second it’s out of my mouth that it was the wrong thing to say. Sure, it felt good, coming out, but I regret it instantly.