Page 62 of Bracing The Storm

Chapter Twenty-One

Ipretend to busy myself with polishing the already spotless counter to perfection as I steal glances at Patrick. He’s hesitating in the doorway, as though unsure whether to come in while exchanging a few words with Sinead. Even though she’s taller than I am, her head is tilted back to look up at him, and there’s a smile playing on her lips. Her hand is resting on her hip, the way it usually is, but there’s something about her stance that screams she’s flirting with him.

Narrowing my eyes, I try to look away. I really am. But it’s all a bit like a train wreck that forces me to keep my gaze glued to the unnerving display even though I can feel everything inside me crumbling into a dirty heap.

Why did I sleep with him?

Not once, not even twice.

It was five times throughout the night, and then again in the morning. He had made me come more times than I could remember, and then left with a lingering kiss and something about a trip he needed to make. His proximity had rendered me unable to form a coherent thought. My mushy brain didn’t even consider questioning him on his whereabouts.

It’s three days later. Three days without a phone call, text message, or smoke signal.

Where has he been? Why do I even care?

Because you’re falling for him, dumdum! And falling hard.

My heart sinks as Patrick laughs at something Sinead says. The chemistry between them is undeniable. I wouldn’t be surprised to find the café catching fire any moment. I should have known better than to get involved with someone like him. He’s not only rich and sexy; he has the female population at his feet, vying for his attention. Why would he go for someone like me when he can have someone likeher?

He must sense my glare because his eyes turn to me and his smile freezes in place. He’s probably asking himself the same question and is regretting our night of passion. Before I can come up with an excuse and dash for the back of the café to lock myself up in the kitchen, the rest room, or anywhere with a lock on the door, Patrick’s reached me in a few long strides.

“I’ll be in the back, if you need anything,” Sinead says and disappears into the staff room aka kitchen aka everything else.

Damn! I’m alone with him.

I fix my gaze on the already sparkling counter, polishing until my arm feels like it’s made of jelly, but the pain is welcome. I deserve all the torture I can get.

“Learning how to play hard to get? Or are you in the market looking to land a husband?” Patrick says. His voice is deep and low and sends shivers through me. A tingle settles in my lower abdomen, reminding me just how much I crave his attention down there.

I look at him, confused. “What?”

His brows perk in amusement as he points at the romance novel on the counter. The cover shows a woman dressed in a gown and some guy who looks like he spends way too many hours at the gym. He has his arms wrapped aroundher possessively while she’s trying to turn her back on him. Needless to say, it’s a romance book and so unbelievable, under usual circumstances I wouldn’t be caught dead reading it. But I’m in the middle of nowhere and there’s something about the story that’s strangely captivating. Besides, everything else was already on borrow, what with the bad weather and no new book deliveries in a month. And I was in the mood for a bit of romance after my night with the one guy I clearly shouldn’t have hooked up with.

My cheeks flame up.

“I wasn’t—” I mumble, leaving the rest unspoken. I can’t pretend that I haven’t been reading it when my flushed face has most certainly given me away.

“I don’t think I’ve read that one but there’s only two ways it could go.” A smile flickers across his face. “My mother was a huge fan of romance novels. Since I didn’t have a sister and with my father being away on business trips most of the time I learned more about this stuff than any teenage boy needs to know. And let me tell you, every guy gets the girl in the end, no matter how much she resists."

There’s something about his words that annoys me. Maybe it’s his confidence, his ego, the way he speaks the last sentence with absolute certainty, as though his statement is a fact. Or maybe it’s the insinuation that I could be that girl, that he could have me if he so wanted.

I set my jaw and take a deep breath to stifle the anger bubbling beneath the surface. He’s so infuriating. I feel like pouring an entire mug of hot coffee in his lap, but that’s beneath me. Of course, he’s making small talk instead of apologizing for ghosting me for three whole days.

“Why would you assume all romance novels are the same?” I ask.

“Because they are…in the end. Half of the time, the heroine plays hard to get and the other half is about getting married. And by the end of the book there’s often a ring or a happily ever after.”

I shake my head in disbelief. The arrogance. “I wouldn’t know since I don’t usually have much time for reading. Maybe your theory applies to this particular book. For your interest, I’m not in the market for a husband. No man is worthy of a woman’s loyalty and dedication.”

I know I sound bitter, but I can’t help myself. I feel angry and betrayed, probably because deep inside me I actually hoped I would be more than a quick hook-up for him. How stupid of me to set my expectations sky-high only to see them dashed and crushed under his expensive shoes.

“No man?” His brows shoot up. “Is that so?”

I jut out my chin. “That is a fact. I also don’t need to learn how to play hard to get.” I pause for effect, letting my words sink in. “Iamhard to get. Anyone who appreciates the wait will see I was worth it.”

“You’re right about that. I’m glad I didn’t persuade you to jump into bed with me on the first day. The wait was worth it.”

“Persuade me?” I laugh. “You couldn’t have even if you wanted to.”

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