Page 10 of Ambrosia Kisses
Unfortunately for me, I just can't figure out how to leave it there. She isn't mine and never was. But seeing her again has me realizing that I'm still fucking hers, and there's not a damn thing I can do about it.
Chapter Two
Paisley
"What is his problem?"I mutter, my eyes trained on Ridley as he spots me walking toward him down the path that runs the length of the vineyard, and immediately mutters what looks like a curse. The scowl on his face says everything.
He hates me. I'm just not entirely sure why. If anyone should be pissed here, it's me. He's the one who left the freaking country while I was still asleep in his bed!
Funny how that hasn't stopped me from thinking about him incessantly over the last three years. No matter how many times I try to tell myself that I'm not going to be that girl—that sad, obsessive girl who can't move on—I've been her all along.
Ridley Goodson broke my heart and my stupid brain. A week later, my whole life detonated.
Three years later, the proof of just how deep those fissures still run is staring me in the face. He's back…and seeing him hurts like hell.
Unfortunately for me, in the forty-eight hours I've been here, I've seen him everywhere. It's like he's making a game of being exactly where I plan to be. Dinner with Lucy? He's at the bar. A walk around the vineyard? He's working in the field. Lunch in town? Guess who strolls his fine ass through the door?
The man is haunting me, and he didn't even have the decency to drop dead first.Rude.
I briefly consider turning around and going the opposite direction, but that scowl on his gorgeous face changes my mind. I didn't do anything wrong. If anyone should run here, it should be him.
I've had three years of pain and heartbreak to forge armor. And what life and loss turned to steel, law school tempered. He can't hurt me now unless I let him, and there's not a chance in hell I'll be letting him. Been there, done that, will not be repeating that mistake.
I lift my chin, shove my hands into my pockets, and keep walking. It feels like I'm wading into battle. The man helps run a vineyard, and he's more intimidating than opposing counsel could ever hope to be.
His scowl slips, dark amusement curving his lips at the corners as he stops directly in the center of the path. Why can't he be normal instead of a giant pain in my ass?
And why does he have to look so damn good? It's really unfair. Life and law school added twenty pounds to my already curvy frame, and Italy added about the same amount of muscle to his. He's even bigger, even more ridiculously sexy, and somehow that smile is just as devilish as it was back then.
My stomach flutters, and I don't even have to check to know my nipples are diamond-hard. He may be the last person I want to see, but my body still remembers him, dammit.
He doesn't even attempt to step out of my way, his big body blocking the entire path. My only options are to speak to him, walk into the vines to avoid him…or plow through him.
Hell will freeze over before I touch him. And it's June in California, so I'm not holding my breath on it freezing anytime soon. Pity, really. He could do with a little frostbite, preferably in his nether regions.
I don't really want to break through the vines like I'm Jill of the Jungle, either. If they were only his, I'd be tempted to do it, but the vineyard belongs to his entire family. I'd rather not mess it up for them just to spite him.
"Excuse me," I snap. I tried being polite to him when I got here. He was a dick, so now, he gets attitude and aggression.
He doesn't say anything, not a single word. He just continues to smirk at me like the little devil on his shoulder has taken the reins. Not that it needed to take them or anything. Oliver swears he's his brother, but Oliver is a saint. This man was forged in the bowels of hell.
Huh. Guess that's how God feels about Lucifer and Raphael.
"Ridley, I'm not in the mood for whatever stalkerish crap you're pulling today. My head hurts," I growl. "Move."
"Stalkerish crap?" One dark brow rises toward his hairline. "You're mighty full of yourself, Dimples. Some of us are working, not following you around like your little acolytes."
"Donotcall me that. Just get out of my way and go back to not speaking to me, please." I attempt to step around him, but he moves with me. "Ridley, I'm serious."
"So am I. I'm not fucking stalking you, Paisley."
"Whatever you say. Now, move."
"You in a hurry to go meet someone?" His expression darkens. If I were more delusional than I am, I'd think it was jealousy. "Got some stupid motherfucker waiting to fall at your feet somewhere else on the vineyard?"
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Right." He laughs without humor. "You're up to the same old tricks, aren't you, Dimples? Who's the sucker you've got your sights set on this time? Jax? Gabe? One of the farmhands?"
