Page 91 of Rewrite Our Story

“His asshole personality is kind of endearing after a while. It’s a defense mechanism for him.”

I nod, still wondering why anyone would want to associate with somebody like that. He’s a total grump. Maybe even past grump and into straight up douchebag territory.

The bridesmaid and I are busy picking up the last of the boxes when Pippa squats down next to us and starts to pick up the cupcakes. “You know you’re supposed to actually have a big dick if you’re going to be this big of an asshole,” Pippa mutters under her breath, making a point to aim her eyes at his groin.

The douche in a suit’s jaw snaps shut. “I think you just ruined a thousand dollar suit,” he growls.

“Oh I get it,” Pippa barks. “You use expensive suits to cover up the fact that you’ve got the worst fucking personality on the planet. Not to mention,youjust ruined hours of hard work.” Pippa points to the colorful globs of icing lining the pavement.

A woman in white—who I’m guessing must be the bride—steps forward. “We’ll see what we can salvage,” she offers. “It really only looks like a few things got ruined.”

“Oh my God, you’re the bride and I just—well, this asshole—just ruined your desserts! I’m Pippa, the owner, and I’m so sorry.” Pippa looks at the van, her eyes connecting with mine for a moment. I feel bad, she looks flustered, and I know what she walked in on this morning between Cade and me probably doesn’t help things. “If I leave right now, I can replace the damages and bring them back in time…”

The bride shakes her head. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it. I think I severely over-ordered anyway.”

Pippa frowns as I hand over a box of cupcakes that don’t look like the best presentation wise, but they’re edible since they didn’t topple over on the ground.

“The strawberry ones are my favorite,” Pippa whines.

“I never really liked strawberry anyway,” the bride answers.

“You really should replace the cupcakes,” the asshole interjects.

The bride glares at him. Surely this can’t be the groom. The girl looks too nice to be marrying such an ass. “Camden, stop,” she says low.

The guy—Camden—doesn’t break eye contact with Pippa, the two of them locked in a heated stare.

Pippa takes a deep breath, her eyes glancing at me for a split second before she glares back at Camden. She smirks and the sight makes me nervous. “You know,Camden,” she begins, venom laced in her words. “I’m having a really, really bad day, and I’m just not in the mood to deal with a rich, entitled asshole.”

“Your bad day matters to me, why?”

Pippa throws her hands up in the air and turns to face the back of the van. She looks at the boxes that didn’t get ruined in the whole incident. Pippa takes a long, dramatic deep breath. “Other than the fact that I found out my brother and best friend are fuckingagainand quite literally ran into the same dick from the bar the other night who doesn’t give two shits that he ruined something I workedreallyhard on in the process? I don’t actually give a damn if my bad day matters to your not.”

“Pipp—” I interrupt, wanting to apologize for the part I played in the way her day has gone. I start to reach out to her, but I realize I have icing all over my hands so I wipe my hands on my jeans.

“Not right now, Mare,” Pippa interrupts. Not only does this Camden guy get a dirty look, but I do too.

“How about I take a load in?” The bridesmaid offers, obviously trying to ease the tension in the air.

Pippa’s eyes soften slightly as she takes a deep breath. She grabs a few boxes, and without saying anything, she follows the bridesmaid inside. I’m left watching her walk away, having no choice but to help bring things in.

The Camden guy steps next to me, and despite his obvious anger, he starts helping by grabbing some of the boxes.

He looks over, catching me looking at him. “What?” he asks, stacking one box over the other.

My eyes go wide as I turn back to my own task. “Nothing,” I say under my breath. “I just really thought you were such an asshole that you kind of surprised me by helping with the boxes.”

He grunts, creating a stack far larger than mine. “Your boss have a habit of spilling shit on people?”

I laugh, his question taking me by surprise. “She’s not my boss, she’s my friend. But no, apparently it’s just you.”

His dark, gelled hair doesn’t budge an inch as he shakes his head. “Lucky me.”

50

CADE - PRESENT

I’m placingbales of hay into the bed of one of the work trucks when Mare comes into view. I toss the bale I was holding into the truck bed before closing the distance to her.

---