Page 66 of The Love Interest
Then I decide to take Beowulf up on his offer to join the writers’ retreat at his family’s place upstate. The place “with six beds.” One would assume that because he mentioned six beds, he meant there would be at least six people there. He did not. He only invited me.
It was awkward.
I left about ten minutes after he finally told me that no one else was coming.
And I had been so excited about getting shots of Goliath around this cute little town, but it’s raining and I didn’t want to wait at Beowulf’s place for a cab, so I’m walking back to the train station with a four-foot metal cock in my arms. I don’t even know when the next train back to New York is because I haven’t checked on my phone.
Everything has been terrible ever since Emmett booted me out of his office.
I blame Emmett Ford for Christmas being cancelled. I blame him for me being stuck in New York for the holidays without even being able to make any extra money. I blame him for Beowulf being a creep.
I have also missed him so, so much, and that is obviously all his fault too.
I wonder what horrible thing will happen to me next.
I can’t wait to hate Emmett even more for it.
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice a black BMW slowing down as it drives in my direction. It’s a sleepy town on December 26th, so I guess that’s not weird. Beowulf drives a Prius, so I’m pretty sure it’s not him. It’s a little weird that the BMW pulls over just ahead of me. And that the passenger-side window rolls down.
“Fiona.” I hear a man’s voice over the rain. It’s Emmett’s voice. “Fiona!”
Whaaaat is happening?
I veer over to the farthest edge of the sidewalk while also pausing to look into the car. It’s Emmett. Emmett is driving the car. Emmett’s grumpy face is scowling at me from the driver’s seat.
“What are you doing here?” he demands.
“I’m going to the train station. What areyoudoing here?”
He shakes his head. “Get in.” He leans over to push the passenger-side door open. I don’t move. “Get in, Fiona.”
I don’t like being ordered around but I alsolikethat he’s ordering me to get in his car, and it’s exasperating. It’s cold and raining and the sun is going down and my arms are getting tired. So I start to place Goliath on the floor in front of the passenger seat.
“Put the cock in the back seat.” He shakes his head.
Again—I do not like being told what to do. And again, I am annoyingly aroused by his tone. I toss my backpack into the back seat and sit Goliath up and put the seat belt around him—in the front seat. Then I shut the passenger door and get into the back seat with my backpack.Take that, bossypants.
He stares at me through the rearview mirror. “Good. I was going to ask you to get into the back seat, but I figured you’d think that was rude. Less likely anyone will see you back there.”
I glare at his reflection as I remove the hood of my padded coat from my head and let the water drip onto his leather seats. “How did you even recognize me?” As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I know the answer.
He glances over at Goliath in the front seat. He doesn’t even roll his eyes at me. He’s totally stoic. He doesn’t drive. “Fiona. Why are you here, and why are you walking to the train station in the rain? With Goliath?”
“What the hell are you doing in Cold Spring?”
“I’m going to my cabin. I was in Connecticut. I just bought groceries, and now I’m going to my cabin to write for a few days.”
“Oh!”
“And you? Why aren’t you in California?”
“My parents won an Alaska cruise. I decided to go to Beowulf’s writers’ retreat, but…” I can’t decide if I should tell Emmett about it or not. Beowulf might have him as a prof next semester, I have no idea.
“But?”
“There was no one else there, okay? He only invited me.”
The anger in Emmett’s eyes is strangely satisfying. He’s gripping the steering wheel so tight. “So you left? You were going home by yourself? In the rain?”
