Page 5 of Monsters, Vows, and Growls
I rolled my eyes. “You say that about everyone who feeds you.”
She’s the only one who gets away with bossing you around, he replied, and then a bit quieter,besides, she’s not wrong.
I didn’t respond to that.
Instead, I wished Carol agood morning, rest of the night,whatever,then stared at the empty coffee mug in my hand and wondered how I’d gotten here—sleep-deprived, haunted by memories I hadn’t thought about in years, and having a heart-to-heart with the grumpy creature living in my chest.
I pulled my phone closer, opened my messages, and stared at Ella’s name, still sitting in my contacts like it belonged. I hadn’t texted her since high school. Even yesterday’s meeting had been a Carol-mediated ambush with business folders and not-so-subtle matchmaking tension. With a heavy sigh, I began typing:
Let me know when you’re free to look at the site.
I stared at it.
Deleted it.
Rewrote it.
The build is ready for a walk-through if you’re still interested. Let me know what works.
Still too stiff.
I deleted it again.
I can meet you in Cedar Hollow this week if you want to go over the layout in person.
Better.
I stared at the blinking cursor, thumb hovering over send.
Oh my God, Thorne groaned.Just send it. You’re not proposing. You’re scheduling a meeting. You used to fight wild boars without flinching, and now you’re afraid of punctuation.
“I’m trying to be professional,” I muttered.
You’re trying not to feel anything, he said.Big difference.
I hit send before I could second-guess myself again. The message whooshed away.
Too late now.
I tossed the phone on the desk and pushed away from the computer, heart thudding harder than it should have been for a simple text. Thorne was quiet for once—watchful, like he was bracing for something.
I was, too, I just wasn’t sure what I was bracing for.
But I had a feeling Ella Lambert was going to tear through whatever walls I had up like she’d never even left.
I ignoredthe ding of a message. My hands were elbow deep in yeast dough, and sweat trickled down the back of my neck. It was four-thirty in the morning, but I hadn't slept a wink. At three, I finally gave up and drove toSalt & Flame. We had plenty of frozen dinner rolls in the freezer, but the idea of making fresh ones and changing them up a bit sounded better than continuing to roll around in my bed, thinking of a man I shouldn't be thinking of.
"Damn him," I pushed my hair back with my forearm, aware that I'd probably smeared dough all over my face. But the rage I was cultivating in my gut didn't let me dwell on it. Instead, I punched the dough harder than it deserved, added more flour and butter, and worked it over as if it were Carol's neck. Damn her. Why the hell did she do that to me? Tears burned in my eyes. Shewas supposed to be my best friend. Best friends didn't hurt each other. And her stunt yesterday?
It hurt like nothing had in years. Seeing Patrick had done things to me, brought things back up that I had thought I had successfully labeled and mailed off. Like a Santa letter from a kid, this package was supposed to have been sitting somewhere unopened and lost in the North Pole, not marinating in my brain like Pandora’s box, ready to explode wide open at the smallest push. Damn Carol, she was the writer, not me, and here I was creating metaphors like a walking heartbroken poet.
Punch, punch.
Maybe I should write a sports romance, too, that would teach Carol about getting involved in other people's lives.
Punch, punch.
I even had the perfect story for it.Top football player breaks his neck and loses his ability to ever play again. Ten years later, he runs into his high school sweetheart.I laughed dryly and wiped a tear off my cheek.
