Page 63 of Pain in the Axe
I clutched my heart as it pounded out an uneven rhythm in my chest. “See? They’re especially daggery right now. Does the light of the moon restore you to full power?”
She shook her head, shoulders sagging. “I have so many reasons to be mad at you, Gus Hebert, but mostly, I’m deeply offended that you continue to surprise me.”
Chapter 17
Chloe
As I stirred, my aching back made itself known. That sensation was followed by a breeze on my face. I forced my eyes open and, for a moment, was confused by the scenery. The lake, the dock, the trees rustling in the breeze. I was laid out on one of my overpriced lounge chairs with a blanket draped over me. Huh.
With a roll of my shoulders, I pushed an arm up and checked my watch. Wow. Five fifteen.
Last night, Gus and I had argued for hours.
The sight of his empty chair beside me made me feel strangely sad. He’d probably gone home. It was for the best. Starting my fifth decade alone was fitting anyway, given how I’d spent my life so far.
“You’re up.”
Startled by the deep voice, I turned—shit, my neck hurt—and found Gus striding toward me, his long legs eating up the grass between us.
He had a large blue mug in each hand.
“I made coffee.”
I sat up and held out a hand, wondering how much of my makeup had migrated during the few hours I’d slept out here. I never went to bed without taking off my makeup and doing my skincare routine. What a way to ring in my forties—with total self-neglect.
“Wanna watch the sunrise?”
With a nod, I stood and stretched. I snagged the blanket and draped it over my shoulders.
We walked down to the edge of the dock and sat with our feet dangling over the water as we silently sipped coffee.
“Thank you,” I said, a little begrudgingly.
He hummed, holding his mug up. “I know you need coffee within ten minutes of waking.”
My stomach dipped in response to that comment. “I’m surprised you remember.” My mind instantly went back to those first few days of living together. We were kids, really, married and clueless, trying to figure out what we’d gotten ourselves into.
“You’re my wife,” he said, one brow raised. “I’d never forget.”
Okay, so he was probably also having the same flashbacks. Cuddled up under an old afghan, sipping coffee out of the two mugs we owned, dreaming about our future together. It turned my stomach.
“Ex-wife,” I corrected.
“Yes. But the only wife I’ve ever had. So I remember your little quirks.”
Continuing on with that topic would only lead to a field of emotional landmines, so I kept my mouth shut. I set my mug on the dock beside me and shook my hair out. The way his eyes widened when I threw back my head sent a shiver down my spine. I guess I’d forgotten how much he’d loved my hair all those years ago.
When we’d been together a few weeks ago, he had run his fingers through it, sometimes pulling it. And shit, I’d liked it.So much so that just the memory had a blush creeping up my cheeks.
It had been such a mistake to sleep with him again. Because the vague sexy memories had been replaced with bright, vivid ones.
He was still an ass man. That was clear. Which was convenient, as I had plenty to spare in that department.
Dammit, we hadn’t spoken in several long moments, yet I was fully turned on, sitting on the dock with him on my birthday.
Great. Two decades of growth. I’d spent two decades facing challenges head-on and getting stronger and tougher every day, just to dissolve into a puddle of goo when he raised an eyebrow at me.
Hormones, I could understand. I was a woman with needs. Though until a recent tryst with my ex-husband, those needs had not been adequately met in a very long time.
