She could pretend all she wanted, but the throbbing pulse on the side of her throat said otherwise. “Sunshine…” A smile split my face. “…that should tell you how much fun the ride is.”
I was seconds from leaning over, yanking her closer, and kissing her until she forgot about rides and Disneyland and that I wasn’t her type. Until I forgot that I was angry at her for backing me into this marriage, and even angrier that I wanted her more than the next breath of air in my lungs.
Then I remembered that she had too much to drink.
She might wake up with a nasty case of buyer’s remorse, and I wasn’t dumb or horny enough to risk having to live with a resentful wife for the next three years. Especially not one that argued for a living.
Pulling back, I straightened in my seat, my attention returning out the windshield to the moonlit landscape. “Go inside, Sydney…Go before I change my mind.”
Chapter Eleven
Sydney
The next morning, I woke up with a raging headache, a hankering for twenty gallons of water, and a vague idea of how close I’d come to humiliating myself. Three Long Island Ice Teas had laid me low. I’d been seconds from leaning in and kissing him when he sat back and ordered me to go inside. Ordered. How humiliating. He’d pulled out the floor beneath me, sent me face-planting right into desire, and want, and need with his hot words and long stares and then left me high and dry. Alone again. Alone again!
No sooner had I shut the door to the Ford than the engine started, and he peeled away to parts unknown. That bothered me more than it should’ve. I shouldn’t have cared where he was sleeping or with whom––and yet I did.
But as someone once said, if that was wrong, I didn’t want to be right.
I cracked an eye open to find my breath had mass. Little white puffs hung in the air, evidence that the furnace was broken again. Searching around for my phone, I located it under one of the dogs, both of which had graduated from sleeping next to me on the inflatable mattress to sleeping with me on the pull-out couch.
The screen read 6:30, and judging by the quiet, Scott was undoubtedly long gone. How he managed to be out of the house without waking me every single morning was a mystery. Then doubt reared its ugly head and smacked me between the brows. Maybe he hadn’t made it home.
A shiver rocked my entire body, reminding me how sore my legs were. Now was not the time for the furnace to be acting up. Thinking about Scott having to spend the Christmas holidays alone in a cold cabin didn’t sit well with me. He might’ve been an unmitigated jerk, but I’d suffered too much in the past to stand idly by while someone else suffered. I made a mental note to talk to Laurel about it. Luckily, Drake had given me his number, so I fired off a text.
Me: Furnace broken again. Please help. I’m freezing. Frozen emoji face.
Fifteen minutes later, after I’d washed my face and brushed my teeth, there was a knock at the door. In a hurry, I threw on black leggings, a chunky white cable sweater foregoing a bra, draped a few blankets around my shoulders, and made for the door. Drake stood on the porch just as gorgeous and sexy in the stark morning light as he looked in the moody dimness of the bar the night before. Even better, he was clutching a large monkey wrench in his hand. He’d come prepared.
“Thank you for coming so quickly!” I nearly screeched I was so damn happy to see him. “I have homemade pumpkin muffins and freshly brewed coffee.” I’d baked the muffins yesterday, before the unfortunate ATV ride into town. A quick glance at the tray on the counter revealed that a few were already missing. Someone had come home. My chest got warm.
Drake nodded and motioned that he’d take his payment later. Then he stepped back, indicating to the furnace and water heater located in the shed attached to the cabin.
“Drake,” I said, touching his arm before I was out of his line of sight. Facing me, his soft gaze fell on my mouth. “Have you seen Scott?”
Let’s be real, Scott had basically won. I couldn’t continue to live like this. I hated that he’d gotten the best of me, but my comfort was more important than my pride. My work was critical, and I couldn’t perform under these conditions. Not for much longer. Definitely not for three years. I was leaving today and needed to give him a heads-up that, upon my return, the living arrangements had to change. I was even willing to rent something in town and he could stay with me.
The confused, questioning look Drake returned was downright adorable. I, however, was too damn cold and hungover to delve into what it meant. Drake retrieved his phone out of the back pocket of his jeans and typed.
At his house
Blink. Blink. Blink. He might as well have dropped a bull on my head. I tried to measure my breathing, doing my best to control my reaction as I always did. Damn proud of myself too ’cause I was near to blowing like a Yellowstone geyser. Nevertheless, I couldn’t stop the heat that marched up my neck and covered my face.
My mind flipped through snapshots of Scott from all those years ago. My instincts had been right. This cabin wasn’t his style. He’d been gaslighting me all along. I was going to be sick––or homicidal. Not sure which yet. Probably both.
“Riiight,” I said, all breathy. It was hard to make the word come out when my thoughts were on a loop. That loop being unfit for public consumption.
“How do I get there again?” I asked.
He typed.
Follow the dirt road over the hill, make a right at the aspens, and keep going up. You can’t miss it.
I forced myself to smile at him. “Thank you.”
Drake tipped his chin and walked around the side of the cabin. The second he was out of sight, my smile dropped and I jumped into action. The blankets wrapped around my shoulders flew off, and I slammed on my purple Hunter boots. Then I marched straight for the shed with Romeo and Juliet trailing after me. I’d seen a mountain bike in there yesterday.
Straddling the bike, I glanced at my loyal fur friends. “Let’s go fuck some shit up.”
Twenty minutes later…
His home was magnificent. Around ten thousand square feet was my rough estimate. Natural stone, glass, and high-polished wood. It looked like a living thing growing out of the stunning scenery. And yet I couldn’t quite appreciate it. Not yet, anyway. Much, much, much later I would. At the moment, however, my lungs felt blowtorched, my hams and quads were on fire, and I still had a man to make pie out of.
Huffing and puffing, I pedaled up to the front door which was covered by an enormous overhang of wood and stone and dropped the bike in the driveway. In serious pain, I stumbled, my lungs burning worse than my quads. Grabbing a medium-sized stone, I weighed it in my palm and deemed it big enough to do some serious damage. Then I hurled it with all my might at one of his gigantic floor-to-ceiling windows, screaming in hollow satisfaction. It hit dead center, made a plunk sound, and dropped back to earth without even leaving a scratch. Which, of course, made me want to scream again.
Adrenaline and a hunger for justice willed my legs to move. Crawling up the stairs to the front door, I pressed my thumb on the doorbell and didn’t let up until a woman’s voice could be heard on the other side.