Page 15 of The Rival (Looking to Score 2)
“This looks so good,” she says, then sighs happily. “Thank you for cooking. I’ve been living off freezer food for days.”
I shrug. “It’s no big deal.”
“It is, though. You can’t make a fancy dinner like this and expect me to banish you to the guesthouse.” She peers at me over the rim of her wineglass, and my pulse quickens.
“What are you suggesting?”
Maybe it’s the alcohol, but a little color blossoms on her cheeks. “Just that you should stay here in the main house. There are a bunch of other bedrooms upstairs to choose from.”
Sleeping within mere yards of Aspen? In the back of my head, I can hear Saint snickering and plotting out which tattoo he has in store for me. “I—”
“No arguing,” she says quickly, her eyes focused on mine. “You’ve done so much for me already, and there’s plenty of room for the both of us here. This place is massive. Say you’ll stay.”
Just say no, Braun. You can do this. Two little letters. N and O. Use them.
“Sure, I’ll stay.”
Dumbass.
Aspen smiles, wide and bright. It’s nearly dark outside, but her sunny disposition lights me up inside. “Good. Cheers.”
She raises her glass, and I mirror the movement.
As long as I keep my head on straight, it’ll be fine. Why ruin a perfectly good meal by disappointing a beautiful woman?
“Cheers.” I savor my first swallow, letting the smooth notes of cherry and tart plum rest on my tongue. I’m no sommelier, but this bottle tastes expensive.
Aspen cuts into her steak. “I hope you don’t mind that I took the master bedroom. In the onboarding email, Saint insisted that I set up in there, saying it would be ‘worth it,’ and he was right. That clawfoot tub has become my new best friend. And the king-size bed is out of this world.”
“Yeah, he’s got some pretty sweet digs.” I grunt, mentally batting away thoughts of Aspen naked in the tub, naked in the sheets. Damn it. “I’ve stayed in one of the guest rooms before, so I’ll take that room. The master is all yours.”
Aspen places the fork between her lips and moans at the bite of steak. “This is amazing.”
Shit, that’s a sweet sound.
“Good.” In my opinion, it’s a little overcooked, but if she likes it, I’m happy. If she keeps moaning like that . . . well, happy is no excuse for the sudden tightness in my jeans.
“You’ve been here before, right?” Aspen asks. “You were so familiar with the place when we were talking about it at the club.”
“Yeah, we came for Fourth of July weekend last year.”
“Oh, that was before I started working for the team. Did E—” She stops abruptly, clearing her throat. “I mean, um . . .”
“Did Eden come too?” I ask, finishing the question for her.
“Yeah,” Aspen says a little sheepishly. “Sorry.”
“You can say her name, you know.”
“I know that. She’s my boss and my friend. I just don’t want to make you uncomfortable or force you into talking about anything you don’t want to talk about. You know, with me.”
“I don’t mind,” I say, finishing my mouthful of steak before talking again. “She’s never been here. That one was a guys-only trip. I came one other time for a fishing trip, but by then, Eden and I had already broken up.”
Aspen nods. “It must have been nice to come here and get away from the world.”
“It was. It’s the perfect place to escape from reality.”
Normally, talking with someone about the breakup is difficult. They want all the juicy details, the stuff that didn’t make the tabloids. But Aspen isn’t giving me that impression. Instead, she seems to get it. She’s been working with Eden for months now, but she’s not picking sides, and I appreciate that more than she’ll ever know.
Unexpected questions about my ex teeter on the tip of my tongue. I’ve moved on, for sure, but sitting here across from Aspen, it’s only natural for the topic to shift to Eden.
“Is . . . is she happy?” My words come out quiet. Stilted.
“You mean with Holt?” Aspen asks softly, and I nod. “Yeah, she’s really happy.”
“Good,” I say, and I mean it.
Breakups suck, of course. But I’m glad Eden is happy. One of us should be after the hell we put each other through.
“So, what about you?” I ask Aspen.
I’m not sure if this is a door I should open, but she’s willing to listen to my shit without complaint, so I want to offer that to her as well. The least I can do is ask her about her own troubles.
“What about me?”
“I’m not the only one who had a rough breakup. Although yours is a lot fresher than mine. I guess I just wondered . . .” I pick up my wineglass, hesitating. Maybe this wasn’t the best topic to bring up. “You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to.”
