“Well, maybe next time wait until I get home to eat.”
“Touché.”
I take off my jacket, hanging it and my purse on the coat rack by the front door and head toward the kitchen. Turning up the broiler, I grab my prep things. Seasoning the chicken and onions, I place them on a baking sheet to broil to brown. While I wait on the chicken, I toss some broccoli with chili paste and oil, placing it onto the rack beside the chicken in the broiler. Now, for that delicate glass of chilled wine...
Pouring myself a glass of Chardonnay, I bring it to my nose and inhale. Perfect. It’ll be a few minutes before the chicken is ready, so I head toward the living room where Addison is still messing around on her phone.
“You talking to Reece over there?” I say peeking over at her phone.
“Yep, says his roommate came home flustered this evening. Apparently, someone pissed in his cheerios.”
“Well, maybe he deserved it. Some guys… seriously, think they’re the end-all, be-all to every woman’s fantasy…”
She looks up at me, noticing my frustration. “He really gets to you, doesn’t he?”
Blowing out a long breath, I accept the truth like it is. “Yeah, he does, I guess. I don’t understand his constant desire to flirt with me and tick me off. It’s like he gets off on annoying me.”
“You know what they say about people who pick on you, right?”
“He does not like me, Adds. He calls me the freaking Ice Queen.”
Her disapproving gaze meets mine. “Of course, he does. Would it kill you to try to be nice to him? Every time you talk about him, hate radiates off you in waves. Sometimes, I don’t want to hear about it.”
“Well…” I lower my eyes so I no longer have to see the expression on my best friend’s face.
“That’s what I thought. Look, you freeze him out with cold shoulders and he is sickeningly delightful because you all love the game. You know what the problem is though, right?”
“Oh, this should be good. Enlighten me.”
“You want him. So badly that it’s completely messed with your head. He’s wormed his way into your brain and now he’s stuck there. Every. Single. Day.”
I glare at her over the rim of my glass, but before I even respond the oven timer dings, a sharp sound that immediately cuts off all discussion.
Shooting one last scowl, I get up and head toward the kitchen. Setting down my glass, I grab a plate from the cabinet, load it with chicken and veggies, top off my wine, and head back to the living room.
“Weston Croix is the very last person I would ever want.”
Liar, my head protests.
The smirk on Addison’s face is almost mocking. She knows. “I think thou doth protest a little too much, Wyn. It’s okay to admit you like him, I won’t judge. We’ve known each other since college and you’ve never let anyone get under your skin like you let him. You normally simply ignore them until they go away or turn into enemies. All I’m saying is that there’s a very, very thin line between love and hate.”
I open my mouth to respond to her, but every excuse that comes to my mind falls flat. She’s right, my brain likes him, but I’m not about to let her in on the secret. “I feel nothing except extreme dislike for the ignorant man. We … don’t work well together.”
I hope and pray my heart doesn’t catch up to my brain.