Page 48 of Santa Baby Maybe
“I wanted today with you,” he said hoarsely. “I thought maybe we could find a way to be friends.”
I barked out a laugh. “You are so hot and cold, W.B. I don’t think I could ever be friends with you. Never knowing which one of you I was going to get. The guy who brought me veggie dogs and held my ankle up all night. The guy who took me hard against the door. Or the guy who came here today after he’d gone out with another woman the night before. Did you kiss her?”
His suddenly flushed cheeks gave away the truth. “I wanted to…”
“Forget me?” I handed him an answer when he paused. “Remove my taste for the taste of someone else? I hope it worked for you. I’ll be sure to give it a try as soon as possible. Now take the bag and go.”
“Joy,” he tried again, but swallowed.
“Go. Now.”
Reluctantly, he took the bag. “I’m sorry.”
“Me too. But I have pie and soy gelato to comfort me. On Monday you’re just the CFO of Kane Co., and I’m the head ornament designer. Unless you have design issues or budgeting issues, there’s no reason for us to speak.”
He nodded, as if accepting a punishment he thought he’d duly earned.
I didn’t follow him out, just waited until I heard the front door close before I started to cry.
Damn it! He wasn’t even worth my tears! There was absolutely no reason to be sad over a judgmental, stick-up-his-ass finance guy. I wiped my eyes dry and looked around the kitchen, thinking of the mess that needed to be cleaned.
Instead of doing that, I took the bottle of wine and the pint of gelato with me, and I went to bed at exactly two thirty in the afternoon.
