Page 71 of Forbidden Hearts
“Ice cream melts, Phoebe, it’s not bad luck.”
“I’m aware that it does, however, it wouldn’t have melted if I’d gotten home.”
He scoffs. “If you put gas in your car, you would’ve gotten home.”
I throw the carton on the ground and straighten. “I know this. I’m not stupid. I forgot, okay? In the midst of my already shitty fucking night, I forgot.”
“And if Olivia was in the car?”
“Then I wouldn’t be having this shitty of a night, would I? I would be at your house with her,” I snap back.
Asher runs his hand through his hair. “You go from fucking brilliant to a headcase in two seconds.”
“And you go from the hero who drove out here in the middle of the night to judgmental prick in the same time span!”
He takes two steps toward me. “Get in the truck.”
“Here we are again. You trying to order me into a vehicle!”
Fighting with him feels so much better than bursting into tears. This is the first time in hours that I’m not thinking of that girl or horrible men. Asher is not a horrible man, he’s kind, considerate, hot as hell, and when he’s angry, the fire burns hotter.
I am stoking it and living for the sparks.
“You called me!”
“Oops, my bad,” I say and move to the other side of the car to pull the rest of my groceries out.
He grabs my arm, spinning me around. “What is your issue?”
“Men. Men are my issue. You all think you can boss us around. You think you’re so smart and smug. Take what you want, and then what? What about what I want? Why is it all about what you want? Huh?”
“You don’t want to know what I want right now, Phoebe. Now, get in the truck so we can get out of the cold and you can get some sleep!”
“I’m not cold.”
Asher lets out a deep breath, which fogs between us like some silent punctuation to him proving his point. “You want to stay out here? Fine. I need to get back to my daughter. Brynn needs to work in the morning, and I can’t stand out here and fight with you about whatever has you pissed and has nothing to do with me.”
He’s right. My anger has nothing to do with Asher, and it isn’t fair of me to take it out on him. I also don’t want him to leave me here—not that I really think he would, but I don’t want to call him on his unspoken threat. As though nature can suddenly hear me, a coyote wails from somewhere that is way too close for comfort.
“Fine, I’ll get in the truck,” I say, as though it was my idea.
He huffs. “Great.”
I grab my purse from the front seat while he gets the rest of the groceries—without a bag ripping on him—and then gets into the truck.
I plug my phone in and then shoot a text off to Emmeline to let her know I’m okay and my dark knight has arrived to scold me all the way home.
He heads down Old Mill Road, and five turns later, we’re at the entrance of his farm. The road twists a little and then the sign comes into view. I sit with my arms crossed, my pouting at an all-time high of absurdity, but I am overtired, sexually frustrated, and pissed at myself, so there’s no pulling back.
When we pull up, Asher sighs. “Go on in and get to bed, I’ll bring your groceries up.”
My initial reaction is to cry, but I don’t speak. I’ve reached the stage of self-loathing where I’m so upset that I am about to break.
So, I nod, not wanting to lose it in front of him, and head inside.
“You’re here!” Brynn says when she sees me. “Is everything okay?”
“Everything is fine,” Asher explains as he comes in, carrying all eight bags as if they weigh nothing. “Car broke down, and it’s been a long night.”
