Page 60 of Vicious Arrangement
The burst of jealousy is so sudden I can’t breathe. And it overrides common sense.
“Why?” I snap. “And how?”
“I imagine she’s a little bored with your soft demeanor and wants someone snarky and standoffish and unreasonable to talk to,” he says, which does nothing to improve my mood.
Then he sighs.
“We ran into each other earlier. She was back from a run, and I was filling in time waiting for Josh’s playdate to finish.”
“In Manhattan?”
“In Manhattan. Greenwich. Some group thing. And we got chatting. Sasquatch is adorable by the way,” he says.
I clench my hands as I speed up. I don’t like them running into each other, and for some reason, I don’t like his tone about the dog, as if not only he likes the hellhound and pillow destroyer, but the hellhound likes him.
And I don’t like that they had coffee.
Actually, I really don’t like any of it. The whole thing stinks. It sits like lead inside me and makes me want to kick things.
“That’s great,” I snarl.
“Don’t worry, I’m not moving in on your girl or anything, though she is a catch,” Asher jokes.
“She’s not my girl,” I say, grinding out the words and trying to keep my temper under control.
“Sure, you just keep telling yourself that, tough guy,” Asher says.
I clench my jaw. He’s fucking smirking, I can see it in my head. The smirk soaks his words. I don’t have to see him to know the asswipe’s smirking.
“Whatever, man,” I say. “Bring cupcakes. Josh loves those and he can choose something vile for himself and you choose the grown-up ones.”
“Great. See you tomorrow. Look after your girl. Say hi to Angus.”
I growl as he hangs up.
The music starts again. Truth is, though, I don’t know because as much as she’s been avoiding me, I’ve made it easy by working alot, and avoiding her, too. I call it giving her space, focusing on the business but…
Yeah.
It’s also called avoidance.
I can be man enough to admit that.
And the closer I get to home, the more I can admit I’m not ready to go in. She might be home. She might not, but… fuck. I turn off the music and head into a bar. My plans, however, of just getting a glass of courage is ruined by some blonde with fake tits, long legs, and a short skirt with too much makeup and jewelry.
She sashays up, making eyes and sliding her fingers down my tie.
The antithesis of Aria, and I think I prefer the real deal to doll-like. Aria doesn’t wear much makeup, or jewelry, and her nails are short. She’s no fashion horse, either, not that I have anything against girls dressing up. I like eye candy. I just seem to know like certain eye candy.
“Sorry. Taken,” I say, holding up my hand to show her the ring.
The girl shrugs. I remove her hand and look about the crowded bar and decide this is enough courage for me.
I just leave.
This is what’s out there? It hasn’t changed, so maybe I have, and what’s at home is a hell of a catch. Maybe I need to stop ignoring her.
I stop dead in the street, and someone bumps into me, muttering nasty words that I ignore.
