Page 38 of Bordeaux Bombshell
Sydney’s face flashes in my mind. There’s no way in hell I’m going to jeopardize the progress I’ve made with her for a roll inthe hay for old times’ sake. Besides, Manon never held a candle to Sydney, and she knows it.
I step back, and Manon’s hand drops. “Flattered, but I’m not interested.”
“Are you finally together with your sweetheart? With your Sydney?” Irritation turns to disappointment in her expression, deep furrows lining her forehead when she pulls her eyebrows down.
Shoving my hands into my pockets, my shoulders hunching, I head for the back door. “Not quite, but I’m making progress. I’m not going to fuck it up this time.”
If I haven’t already.
Waiting for her to follow, I hold the door open and check my phone, hoping to see a message from the woman in question. Once again, I’m disappointed. As she passes me, Manon peeks over the edge.
“If you want her, you should tell her.”
We walk down the path to the cabins. The big house is dark when we pass by, the windows black and silent beneath the gray skies. This afternoon’s rain shower left puddles on the ground. Mentally, I note where they are and which ones are vital for me to come back and level out before we open for the weekend.
“I have. Several times.”
“Have you really? You told her, ‘Sydney, I’ve been in love with you for my whole life. I never stopped loving you—even when I was fucking other women, I wished they were you. I was balls deep in another woman’s pussy, yet I called out for you and did not care that it hurt their feelings’?”
She doesn’t disguise the bitterness in her tone, and I wince.
“Jesus, Manon. When you say it like that, you make me sound like a fucking asshole.”
Laughing, she stops and turns to me, again resting a hand on my arm. “But youarean asshole. A delightfully grumpy one—with a cock that knows how to do its job—but an asshole all the same.”
The backhanded compliment takes me by surprise, prompting a deep belly laugh that startles a flock of birds in a nearby tree. They take off all at once with an ominous flap of wings that has Manon shrieking and cowering from the sound, which only makes me laugh harder. After a second, she joins in, pointing out the birds arrowing through the valley.
We’re still laughing when I open the door to my parents’ house. But as soon as I step inside, the laughter dies on my lips.
“Look who I found outside,” Mom crows, bumping the girl beside her in the kitchen. “She was wandering around in the rain like a little lost lamb.” Mom turns her gaze to Sydney, who’s standing beside her, slicing vegetables.
Now that I look closer, I can see the damp strands of hair sticking to the back of Sydney’s neck, her signature ponytail limp and scraggly. A familiar leather jacket and purse hang on the wall to my right, on the hook I usually use.
“Hello, Nate.”
She’s standing in my mother’s kitchen, smiling and greeting me politely. With a very large knife in her hand.
I am seriously fucked.
Sydney
WhenIdroveouthere, I had no intention of being seen. I was going to sneak in like a ninja, force Nate to answer my question, and get out again before anyone knew I was there.
I can already feel Jackie vibrating with excitement beside me. Ten seconds ago, so was I, or maybe that was nerves, but the moment Nate and Manon blew in the front door, laughing like old friends, all that anticipation turned to anger.
“Hello, Nate,” I grit out, smiling behind clenched teeth.
Nate’s eyes widen at my words, and I revel in satisfaction at his reaction. Good, he knows something is wrong. Let him stew in what it could be for a while longer.
I change my focus to the beautiful woman beside him. “Nice to see you again, Manon.”
“Again?” Nate’s gaze flits between us, his eyebrows creeping higher and higher.
Manon is the one who breaks first. With a fake chuckle, she lays a hand on his biceps. “Oui. We sat beside each other at the party yesterday.”
The petty part of me enjoys the way he flinches at her touch and shifts away. But mostly, I’m still livid about what I saw yesterday. Seeing how comfortable they are together makes me want to throw more gasoline on the fire raging inside me.
“Party?” Greg breaks the tension, oblivious to the silent conversation happening between the three of us.
