Page 19 of Rebel Bride
She waited anyway. Hell, she wouldn’t last long in the Kershaw house where no one waited for anyone. I needed her to eat—it felt important that she get some sustenance—so I finished up quickly and took a seat at the kitchen table.
I picked up my sandwich. She picked up hers and took a bite, chewed, moaned, swallowed, then took a sip from her own glass. I was fascinated by the bulge of her slender throat.
“God, I’ve missed cheese.”
“Cheese?”
“Yeah, I’ve been dieting, so I cut out dairy. Which kills me because cheese is my favorite thing in the world.”
I too loved cheese, but I didn’t have a raging hard-on for it. “What’s your favorite?”
“Triple crème brie.”
“This is a cheddar house. Though we have a soft spot for Pinconning, because, Michigan.”
“Might have to do a cheese-off.” She smiled and there it was again, that weird lurch in my chest.
I focused on my sandwich because the last thing I needed was to have that sunshine smile affecting me.
“Why did you help me?”
“Because you asked.”
“I expected you’d let me hide out at your condo in the city. But this …” She looked around. “This is better.”
“Sometimes you need distance to acquire perspective.” How wise I sounded. I’d tried for distance for years, for all the good it had done me.
“But I can’t stay here forever, can I?”
“Maybe you should sleep on it.”
“I’ve been sleeping on it for five years.”
My gaze snapped to hers. What did that mean?
“Or maybe I should say, sleepwalking. Through my life.” She shook her head, like she was arguing with herself. “I can’t believe I let it go this far.”
As the altar? A streak of anger bolted through me. All these people hurt, and she had made me an accomplice. This woman was something else.
I needed to get out from under the spell she had over me.
“Think I’ll take a shower myself.” I was still wearing my tuxedo pants and shirt. The tie and jacket had been dispensed with a while ago, but I needed to change and restore some sense of normality.
Or as much as I could with Summer here.
She watched me stand and put my plate in the dishwasher. Those violet eyes assessed me.
“You’re mad at me.” Not a question.
“Why would I be mad at you?”
“Because I’ve placed you in this awkward position. With a teammate. With your team. Maybe even with your family because you brought me here.”
“I’m not mad. I don’t feel anything about this situation.”
Her lips curved slightly. “Oh, you’re mad alright. Absolutely pissed at yourself for stepping in and at me for forcing your hand.”
“You were kind of sad and lost there, so how am I gonna resist that?”
