“Damn, you’re not bitter about it at all, are you?”
I shoved him. “Fucker.”
“If she didn’t tell you herself, how’d you know she dumped you?”
“Enough, already.”
“Did I hit a nerve? Don’t mean to. Aspen seems like a sweet, honest woman. I mean Christ, look who she’s on the run from. You’re ten times a better man than Casso Campbell.” Hollywood wandered down the path. “You should finally confront her. I’d sure want to know why she dumped me,” he shouted over his shoulder.
Son of a bitch, he was right. I should ask Aspen now that she was here. Force her to tell me what made her dump me.
I trudged back to the cabin, ready for battle.
When I entered, I didn’t see her anywhere.
“Hey Boxer, something wrong?” Jill asked.
“Where’s Aspen?”
She furrowed her brow. “Napping. Why?”
Dammit.
“No reason.” I went to the kitchen for some water. The way I felt, maybe it was a good thing Aspen wasn’t around. I might have made a fool of myself.
Yeah, I’d calm down, then get her alone and demand answers.
Or maybe I’d just avoid her.
As the week stretched on, avoiding Aspen didn’t work. Each day, she relaxed a little more. Smiled and laughed with Hollywood and Jill.
Her dazzling, sparkling green eyes seared my retinas. Jealousy bubbled in my blood, along with disdain.
I hated it.
Hated her even more for being someone I never wanted to lose.
She cooked and cleaned like she was feeling better than when we were at the clubhouse. Painted her nails with Jill and played cards. Her sweetness filled every inch of this shack. I’d have preferred to be stabbed in the eye than see her in those goddamn leggings. They curved over her ass like a glove. It didn’t matter if she was covered from her feet to her neck. My hands, mouth, and dick remembered every inch of her.
Dammit, I wanted to rediscover her. Memorize all her changes like fuller hips and tits. The young teenage body I’d been addicted to had developed into a drool-worthy, heart-palpitating, cock-torturing masterpiece.
After fifteen fucking days of having her back in my life, I was ready to throw out my pride just to get between her legs. Just to be with her because I’d been starved of her touch.
Christ, I felt so fucking pathetic.
Here I was dying inside to have her. And not once had Aspen acknowledged me beyond handing me a plate of food or muttering good morning. She didn’t have the decency to apologize for shredding my heart. Or own her shit while I risked my life to protect her. It was fucking messed up.
But did I really want to hear her lame excuses?
No.
Fuck, if the heart didn’t want what it wanted, though.
“Blackjack!” she squealed from the small dining table, raising her hands above her head victoriously. She wiggled her body in the chair, doing a happy dance like when we were together, playing board games.
“Seriously, woman. Are you counting cards?” Hollywood hissed, tossing his hand on the table. “How many is that today?”
“No idea. I’m not keeping track,” she tittered, shuffling the deck. “I don’t cheat. I play fair and square.”