Page 24 of All Jacked Up

“You’ve gone silent on me,” he drawled, then grinned. “Don’t close up on me now. Not when I flew all the way here just to see my friend face-to-face. Catch up in person rather than our usual texting.”

This wasn’t the end of the world. It was very unlikely he’d read my books. I’d once fantasized about this. Him seeing me now and what I’d accomplished. Being his friend in the real world, not just a texting buddy. Oh, who was I kidding? I never fantasized about being his friend. My fantasies were much more interesting. Mostly smutty. Like the scenes I wrote in books. The ones I had to do extensive research on because Arden wasn’t very creative in bed.

“I was going to tell you at dinner, but you …” I paused, then figured,What the hell?He’d shown up at my apartment, unannounced, and dropped this on me. Might as well state the obvious. “You were rude. It was startling. I’d not expected to see you or Opal. Arden hadn’t given me a name. So, when you were standing there, I was speechless at first.”

“Then I acted like a bastard, and you saw no reason to tell me anything,” he finished. “Yeah, I worked that bit out myself.” The tone of his voice was remorseful.

This was so weird. We’d talked about most of our lives via text, but standing in a room with him, it was different. Him knowing my face. Seeing me now.

“I … I should warn you that I’m better at writing down my thoughts. Texting is my preferred method of communication because of it. I, uh … I’m not a wealth of conversation in person.”

He cocked a brow. “You were at sixteen.”

I shook my head. “No, I wasn’t. We talked aboutRomeo and Juliet…” I tapered off on the last word, wanting to wince at having thrown out that reminder.

“I worked that out too, Shakespeare,” he replied, walking over to my sofa and sitting down.

He stretched his legs out in front of him and crossed them at the ankle, then reached up and took off his hat and placed it on the side table before looking at me again. His hair was a riot of messy that could only be described as sexy. While mine needed to have been washed this morning and was a bird’s nest on top of my head.

“Your pen name,” he added then. “You must have wanted to toss your glass of water in my face when I made my snarky comment about it at the bar.”

I shrugged. “I thought about it.”

He smirked. “You should have told me. Instead of sitting there and taking my shit.”

“I considered it. But then you pissed me off.”

Another chuckle. The deep, husky sound was hypnotic.

“In my defense, I’d been told you were a bitchy, spoiled diva that my sister was going to have to endure. It didn’t take long for me to realize she’d been lied to by your editor.”

My eyebrows shot up. “Arden told her that I was a bitchy, spoiled diva?” I asked, wishing I’d taken that ring and shoved it down his throat instead of letting it sit on the damn bar all week.

He nodded. “What, did he try and fuck you and you turned him down? Seems he has a vendetta against you.”

A hard laugh burst out of me as my eyes swung to the velvet box still in the same spot I’d put it on Monday. “No. We are—were—are—” I shook my head, reeling at the fact he’d talked about me like that. “Engaged,” I finally spit out.

When I turned my gaze back to Ransom, he was frowning—no, that was more of a scowl. “Engaged? To that fucker?” He didn’t try and hide his disgust.

I nodded.

“You never even told me you were that serious. I just knewyou were dating someone but you made it sound casual. I had pictured you sitting in a room alone, editing all the time.”

I tilted my head as the corners of my lips quirked. “What, was I also wearing a terry-cloth robe with cats covering every surface and a box of doughnuts beside me?”

The amused gleam in his eyes almost twinkled when he said, “Something like that.”

I laughed this time. “Surprise,” I told him, holding up both hands. “I’m allergic to cats and gluten. Actually, the gluten thing was why I was overweight. Once I cut it out, my nasal issues that I thought were seasonal allergies stopped, and the weight fell off.”

His eyes dropped back to my body again, and I was suddenly very insecure. I knew I wasn’t thin like Opal or most of the females I’d seen him with in the past. I had curves, but I was healthy. That was all I cared about. Starving myself to fit into a size two or four wasn’t happening. I was happy with my size eight jeans. For a while, I’d been set on getting into a size six, but I sat too much, writing, for that to be obtainable.

When he didn’t say anything, I crossed my arms defensively. “I mean, it didn’t all fall off, obviously. But I’m fine with the way I am now.”

His gaze snapped back up to my face. “You’re fine with the way you are now?” he said slowly.

Gritting my teeth, I tried not to be offended, but my weight was something I was sensitive about. When you grew up being called names like Tubby, Beached Whale, and Fatty Fatty Two-by-Four, it kind of stayed with you.

“Yes, I am.”

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