My heart sings and then stutters over one word. “What do you mean mylifestyle?”
Reno frowns a little. “You know, all this,” he says, circling his hand in the air to take in the cottage. The cottage I’d booked as a writing retreat. Is he talking about my books?
“Are you judging me for the spicy sex stuff?” I ask, a bit of a bite to my tone. I detest people who put down others for what they read. Or write.
His eyes widen a little. “No, not judging at all. People are free to do what they want. I just don’t want to be involved… personally.”
I. Am. Fur-i-ous.
Placing my hand on his chest, I take two giant steps forward, pushing him back. “You know what? I think I want you to leave.”
He jerks his head back in surprise and reaches for me, but I swivel away and yank open the door. “Juliette, I swear, I’m not trying to be an asshole here. Surely you understand that not everyone is into that.”
“Yep, totally understand. But I don’t want to be involved with those kinds of people…personally.” I throw his sentiment right back in his face with a sour smile on my lips and a sweeping gesture of my hand toward the door.
He looks crestfallen, but what did he expect? That he could insult mylifestyleand I’d be okay with it? I certainly wasn’t looking for any kind of relationship either—especially not with a hockey player—but he didn’t have to get all self-righteous on me.
Reno walks out onto the small porch and turns to face me, something akin to remorse on his face. “I’m really sorry, Juliette. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I thought we could just have, you know, a bit of fun doing the inspirational thing for your book.” He lifts his hands and lets them fall in a gesture of confusion.
Keeping my hand on the doorknob, I step into the doorframe until we’re almost chest to chest. “Oh, I’m feeling really inspired to write right now. In fact, I’m going to write a chapter where the woman kicks out the closed-minded jerk who went alljudgmental on her.”
I start to close the door, but on second thought, I pull it back open and leave him with one final parting shot. “You probably couldn’t handle what I like in the bedroom anyway.”
Then I slam the door in his stupid, stunned face.
The handsome asshole.
Chapter 10
Homey don’t play that.
Istandinbewilderedsilence for minutes. What the actual fuck just happened?
Through the door, I can hear Juliette’s footsteps stomp across the floorboards so hard the cottage rattles. Raising my hand to knock on the door, I lower it, raise it again, and finally let it fall to my side.
Maybe she needs some time to cool down. No, shedefinitelyneeds time to cool down.
An angry Juliette McNamara was a force. A beautiful, captivating force with aqua-blue eyes that seemed to flash with a life of their own. My cock grows an inch in my pants, and I glare down at my crotch.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I ask him, but he’s unashamed. “Read the room, man. It’s not going to happen.”
But why?That was the question that came from both my big and little heads. I was just trying to be honest with Juliette before we started so there weren’t any unreasonable expectations afterward. But I’d inadvertently gone and insulted her.
I stare at the door for another minute, willing it to open. Of course it doesn’t, so I turn and head next door to cottage five. Once inside, I go straight to my bedroom and flop onto the comfortable bed.
Goddamn, she was sexy when she got riled up… the pink in her cheeks… the fire in her gorgeous eyes. I like a woman with a backbone, and Juliette definitely has that. But she’s also sweet and thoughtful, and I like that side of her too. She’s easy to be with. It’s almost effortless.
The woman next door is on my mind when I fall into a restless sleep. Two hours later, I wake up feeling like shit, but I pull my carcass fromthe bed and take a shower. My stomach makes its needs known, so I dress and head for the dinner restaurant with a renewed sense of purpose.
Maybe she’ll show up for dinner.It’s a completely delusional thought, given her anger earlier, but I can’t help but wish. My breath catches each time a blonde enters the dining room, and then it puffs out in disappointment when it’s not her.
I have no idea what I even eat. By the time the waiter brings my dessert, my thoughts are still on Juliette. Is she okay? Has she eaten anything?
Plastering a smile I don’t feel onto my face, I say, “My dinner partner was unable to make it. Would it be possible to get her food delivered to her cottage?”
“Of course, sir. What would she like?” He whips out a slim menu on a small black board and passes it to me. I read over the selection of steak, chicken, vegetarian pasta, and a variety of seafood dishes. Fuck. I don’t know.
Glancing down at my own plate, I assume I had the shrimp since there are discarded tails there, though I don’t remember eating them. I have the impression it was good though.
