Page 35 of How to Break My Heart 1
“I don’t get you, Aston. One minute I think I can work with you, and the next, you remind me why men are assholes.”
“Jerk,” he corrects me with a serious expression. “I believe you called me a jerk. And by the way, I’d like to add that your so-called theory is incorrect. I can prove it if you’d like to join me in the shower.”
I shake my head in confusion. “Wait, what theory?”
“Guys who drive Porsches have small dicks,” he states smugly. “I’m more than happy to prove just how wrong you are.”
My eyes widen in disbelief, and at the same time, my cheeks burn with mixed rage and embarrassment. “We’re done,” I tell him. “I have a wedding to plan, and it’s obvious you get off on making my life hell. Goodbye, Aston.” I storm out of the room, rushing down the stairs with a desperate need to lock myself in my car.
The moment my driver’s-side door closes, I let out the breath I’ve been holding in.
He will be the death of me.
Despite my animosity toward him, I can’t ignore the fact my mind pictured exactly how he would look inside that shower.
My hand grips the steering wheel tight as if it holds some magic power to make this all go away the tighter I squeeze.
But nothing, I mean nothing, will erase my wandering thoughts.
My imagination has betrayed me, along with my body, but the rest of me refuses to let him win. Whatever game he’s playing, I’m going to beat him to the finish line. Make his life just as miserable as he enjoys making mine.
I glance out the window to the house’s first floor, where his room is located.
“Game on, Beaumont,” I whisper with a grin. “Payback is going to be sweet.”
CHAPTER 10
Eva
On my drive back from Beaumont Manor, I questioned everything the universe was throwing at me. Aston knows how to crawl under my skin and bury himself in there like a parasite sucking the life out of me. There was a chip on my shoulder the size of Jupiter, so I blasted angry-girl music to release my frustration with the whole situation. I belted out a song at the top of my lungs, trying desperately to erase Aston’s infuriating invitation to watch him shower.
The nerve of him.
And the worst part of all of this, a side of me, while minuscule, and I’m talking so minuscule you could barely find it with a magnifying glass, imagined what he would look like naked in the shower.
Yes, that image flashed before my eyes.
And my body reacted almost instantly.
Traitor.
On my way home from the manor, my gas light came on, and while at the gas station, Marco invited me to the Spice House for dinner.
I felt like the universe knew I needed a break.
What’s the saying, again?You can get over someone by getting under someone else?Or something to that effect.
Not that I’mtryingto get over Aston.
I’m simply trying to forget he’s an asshole.
Besides, Marco is friendly and handsome but doesn’t strike me as a man who would take a woman to bed on a first date. He has respect. Unlike the man-whore I know who would bed a woman in the first ten minutes of meeting her.
Nevertheless, my afternoon and mood have improved. I light my favorite strawberries-and-champagne scented candle and nestle into my favorite plush reading chair with a book. Billie suggested this love triangle romance will pull me out of my funk. I enjoyed reading, but not as much as Billie and Maddy. They easily binge read two or three books a week, making it impossible for me to keep up. There are a few book clubs in town, depending on the genre you’re into, but I realized I’m a slow reader and can’t keep the pace like others.
For me, I want to savor the moment, and the words. When I lose myself, I know the book will linger in my thoughts as I lie in bed falling asleep. Given that I have zero romance in my life, the next best thing is living vicariously through the characters.
Well, maybe not zero since Marco asked me out to dinner.
