Page 82 of Resisting the Grump

“Honestly? I thought if I went down a rabbit hole of rude things you’ve written, I might find you more resistible.”

Ouch.

“Unfortunately, it didn’t work because I actually find your writing really…”

My chest tightened in a way I didn’t recognize. Was this what if felt like to actually care about someone’s feedback?

“Funny.”

I tried not to let my relief show in my face.

“I mean, I get why you have the reputation you do, but how offended you can pretend to be by something like watery pea soup is…”

I turned an ear towards her.

“Surprisingly entertaining.”

Her comment felt like a confession. Did she feel guilty that she enjoyed my writing? It wasn’t like I was writing smut. And I wasn’t pretending to be offended by that pea soup. It was diabolical. A veritable insult to peas to everywhere. “You do realize the places I write about know I’m coming beforehand, right? I don’t just rock up when the pea soup guy’s having a bad day and try to make it worse.”

“I know.” She scooped some whipped cream onto a slice of strawberry and slipped it between her lips.

“So you don’t have to feel bad about liking my work.”

“I don’t.”

“Or foolish for liking me. Despite what my producers want people to believe, I’m not actually an irredeemable asshole.”

“I don’t feel foolish for liking you,” she said. “I feel foolish for wanting to trust myself with you when that’s led to so many messes.”

“That’s exactly why we should stick together. If we’d each had a place to go for a second opinion from the start, we wouldn’t need a clean slate now.”

She cocked her head at me.

“You could’ve just asked me if you should leave a bitchy note on your new neighbor’s doorstep, and I could’ve helped you blow off steam in a healthier way.”

“It wasn’t bitchy.”

“You imposed quiet hours and even made Simba feel unwelcome.” I followed her eyes to where Simba was watching her from beside his food bowl, his tail swatting slowly like he was as frustrated as I was.

“Yet he never retaliated,” she said, shooting a sideways glance my way.

“The cactus was kind of a nice gift, at least.”

“Yeah, pricks from a prick. It’s practically poetry.”

I groaned.

“What?” She threw her hands in the air. “I’m a monster, too. Is that what you want me to say? That we deserve each other.”

A slow smile lifted my cheeks. “That’s exactly what I wanted you to say.”

T H I R T YS E V E N

- Avery -

I couldn’t wait to tell Grace that Oliver had pulled off her tricky tart recipe. No doubt she’d be relieved. It couldn’t have been easy for her to suggest something so challenging. She knew better than anyone that something like her no-bake chocolate cheesecake, for example, packed as much punch flavor-wise without the cruel margin for error. Perhaps the fact that she hadn’t let him off easy was a timely reminder that I should think twice before I did.

Then again, if I didn’t give him the second chance he so earnestly appeared to want, he’d inevitably make some other woman very happy someday.

---