Page 93 of Every Time My Heart Breaks

I’d gone too far.

Stupid, idiot Luke, I silently berated myself. I’d been getting so goddamn close, and then I just had to go and bungle it, didn’t I?

I wanted to pound my forehead a couple of times against the edge of the tub in self-punishment.

Only an inconsiderate, horny jackass would try to get fresh with a woman who was still recovering from what Chloe was still recovering from. She had fully thought Freston was going to rape and then kill her. Sex had to be thelastthing on her mind. And yet there I’d been, trying to push it on her like the idiot I was.

When I glanced up, Chloe was still in the room, poised in the opening and staring at me with narrowed eyes that saw too much.

I didn’t even bother to apologize. She could see the regret on my face.

With a bitter sniff, she hardened her jaw and left.

“Stupid,” I hissed to myself. I was stupid, stupid, stupid. Things had been going well. I’d found her sweet spot. All I’d needed to do was just fuckingstaythere. Why the hell had I pushed for more?

Savagely pulling the plug on the drain, I continued to sit in the tub as the water level lowered around me. Bubbles clung to my legs and the side of the cast iron, unable to let go of the fun timethey’dbeen having.

But I told them, “It’s over, fellas. Pack it up and move on.” And then I started to rinse them away with cold water.

After cleaning the drained tub and blowing out the candles, I dried off and shucked my wet underwear before jerking on the jeans to go commando. Then, I yanked on the shirt with a couple of savage, bitter tugs, and I swooped up the wineglasses, draining them both with two hearty swallows.

I fully planned to return the empty glasses to the kitchen, but the moment I stepped from the bathroom, something huge came flying at my head.

Okay, fine. It was probably aimed more at my chest, but from the corner of my eye, it felt a lot like it was going to take my damn noggin off.

“Whoa!” I dodged out of the way, barely missing getting hit by a boot box. It slapped against Chloe’s dresser instead and fell to the floor, where two brand-new, fancy boots spilled across the carpet toward my feet. I blinked at them a moment before looking up and across the room, where an irate Chloe was standing in the doorway to her closet, apparently just having discovered the new boots I’d stashed in there for her to find.

She slapped her hands onto her hips and hardened her jaw with accusation.

“What the fuck?” I roared, gaping at her.

“Did you buy me new boots?” she demanded as if I’d just killed her favorite pet or something.

“Yes, I bought you new boots,” I snapped back. “Why is that bad?”

She sniffed acerbically and shook her head. “Because I don’twantpresents from you. Or special bubble baths to make me feel important. It’s fake. It’s all just…fake.”

“The fuck if it is,” I started, beginning to get pissed.

But she just kept railing. “This ends now.” Pointing toward the floor sternly, she growled, “You’re going to stop this stupid, insane mission of trying to marry me. Right now.”

I lifted my brows at her command, then met her gaze calmly and set the empty wineglasses on the dresser top beside me before saying, “No.”

Surprise glittered in her eyes, but then they just as quickly frosted. “Then get out of my house.” This time, she pointed toward the door. “Go! You are no longer welcome here.”

I merely sniffed and repeated, “No.”

Chloe growled and stomped her foot. “Get out. Right now. Or I’m calling the police and telling them I have a trespasser.”

My lips parted as the breath left my lungs. Then, I gritted my teeth and shook my head. “You are such an aggravating pain in the ass,” I told her bitterly. “So I bought you a pair of fucking boots. You lost yours; they meant a lot to you. How was that so fucking evil of me to want to replace them for you? Were they the wrong size or something?”

“No,” she snapped irritably. “They’re perfect. That’s not the point.”

“Then what’s the damn point?” I shouted. “Because I don’t understand any of this.”

“I don’t…want…gifts…from you,” she shouted back. “Do you understandthat? I don’t want kind words or nice deeds. I don’t want anything. Nothing.”

“Fine. You don’t want anything from me. Then why are you letting me stay hereat all?” I argued.

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