Page 101 of Seven Year Itch
“But you knew it.” She pulls away so she can look directly into my eyes. “And I knew you knew it. So I just kept being awful to you because you felt like a constant reminder of a bad life decision I was stuck in. I was married, and it felt like every time you saw me, you knew I was unhappy and lying to myself. I was waiting for you to screamI told you so.”
“I wasn’t judging you, Ace.” I slide my hands up her back, massaging her shoulders to calm her down. “Never.”
“It was easier to label you as the asshole who ruined my perfect wedding and my perfect house, but you were just a scapegoat to my bad life choice.” She licks her lips and tugs the lower one between her teeth. “I’m sorry I iced you out so hard. Truly. If I could go back in time, it wouldn’t be to not work with you. It would be to just have the guts to call off that wedding. Deep down, I knew I shouldn’t have married him.”
I move my hands up to cradle her face, my thumbs drawing a line along her jaw. “If it’s any consolation... I’ve never seen a more beautiful bride.”
Her head jerks back. “What are you talking about? You weren’t at my wedding.”
“But I saw you in your dress... before it was ruined.”
Her lips part as she lets out an audible gasp. “When?”
“At your house. It was the week before the pipe broke, and you were with Cozy and your mom. Cozy had Ethan with her. He was just a baby then. I came over to do some plumbing, and your momlet me in. I had just got in the door, and you were walking down the stairs in your dress.”
She inhales. “I remember this now.”
I lick my lips and shake my head in awe as I recall every little detail about her on that day. The dress hugged her in all the right places, and her skin glowed like an angel. The dress was simple but stunning, and her blue eyes sparkled under that veil she had on. She was a fairy tale.
“I couldn’t speak,” I confess, looking down and then back up at her awestruck expression. “I forgot what I was even there for. I couldn’t take my eyes off you.”
She frowns, her eyes flicking back and forth between mine like she’s trying to work out a puzzle. “I thought you hate weddings.”
“I do. But I liked you in that dress.” My shoulders shake with silent laughter.
She licks her lips and sighs. “It was a great dress.”
“I’m sorry I ruined it.” I tip her chin up to look at me.
She frowns and shrugs. “I’m not. In the end, Randal didn’t deserve that dress. Maybe no man did. That dress is a fantasy... and this... this is reality. Sex. No strings. No feelings. This is all I’m worth.”
My heart sinks at the words that have just spilled out of her. I open my mouth to tell her something that makes this not sound so cheap, but she cuts me off.
“Calder, it’s fine. It’s easier to just accept it. It makes life more tolerable to just call it what it is. Who knows if I’ll ever find my happily-ever-after again? But at least I can have some good sex along the way. Right, Killer?”
Using my nickname stings in this moment, and I feel my body tensing with irritation, my mouth opening to pick a fight. But I stop myself because maybe I need to hear it. Maybe I need to be reminded of what this is before both of us get in too deep.
Chapter 32
How Do You Like Them Apples?
Dakota
My heart races as I sit at the bar of The Mercantile in Jamestown where Calder told me to wait for him after work. I sip my appletini, which the older female bartender gave me a weird look for ordering, as I admire the atmosphere. I’ve driven by this place plenty of times in my journeys up to Calder’s, but this is the first time I’ve stopped in. I can see why he comes here so much. It’s cozy and relaxed and exactly where I would expect to see those Fletcher mountain men stop after work.
I eye the appletini she served me in a rocks glass because she didn’t have any martini glasses. It’s kind of ruining the aesthetic of my character, but I’ll be damned if I break now.
A deep, husky voice whispers from behind me as a hard object pokes into my back. “Miss, I need you to turn around slowly and show me what’s in that big bag of yours.”
I take a deep breath and freeze with my neon green drink at my lips. “Who are you?”
“You know who I am.” The object pushes deeper into my back causing a stirring in between my legs. “Now, what’s in the bag?”
My tummy trembles as I fight back a giggle and turn to face the man with an ominous looking umbrella in his hand. Not exactly a threatening object, but I’ll roll with it. I part my lips and blink coyly up at him. “Tell me who you are first, and then I’ll show you anything you want.”
His brows tip, and I notice him fighting back a smirk behind his beard. “I’m LaRon, and I own the cider house up the mountain, and someone’s been stealing all our good apples.”
“Oh no, that’s awful.” I gasp doing my best to give Betty Boop vibes. “But I’m allergic to apples.”
