Ignite (Cloverleigh Farms #6)(34)

“Smooth.”

“Fuck off.”

He grinned. “So what did she say?”

“Nothing. She just grabbed her stuff and left.” I ran a hand through my hair. “Then I took the girls home and picked a fight with Naomi.”

“You’re really on a roll with women, aren’t you?”

“Naomi’s used to my bullshit, plus she sort of deserved it,” I said defensively, “but this girl, Winnie, she didn’t.”

“So tell her you’re sorry.”

“I thought about it, but . . . do I have to? It was the truth—I’m not interested in dating her. That’s all I meant.”

“Okay, but you didn’t need to say that out loud.”

“I thought I was doing her a favor,” I argued. “I didn’t want her to get the wrong idea after the night before.”

“Which was totally your doing. You kissed her, right? Not the other way around?”

I didn’t answer.

“It’s like you took a bite of her dessert without being offered a taste, and then told her you didn’t really like it anyway.” Justin shook his head. “Dick move.”

“I did like it,” I muttered. “I’m just too fucking old for it.”

“She doesn’t know what’s in your head. Trust me, dude. I’ve got four sisters and a wife, and I know how women think. You insulted her, and you should apologize.”

I exhaled, afraid he was right. “I don’t even want to face her.”

“You live right next door to her. You can’t avoid her forever.”

“Why not? I lived in the same house as Naomi for years, and she claims I was excellent at avoiding her.”

“Just knock on her door tomorrow and get it over with.”

“Couldn’t I just leave her a note?”

“I guess you could. But that seems pretty chicken-shit.”

“I’m not chicken-shit,” I said, puffing out my chest.

“Then be a man and knock on her door, asshole.” He punched my shoulder as he left the laundry room. “Don’t forget the fabric softener.”





I spent all day Tuesday unpacking, organizing, and making a final few runs from my old place to the condo. After the apartment was completely empty, I turned in my keys to the management office and drove away from the Luxury Harbor Complex for the last time.

After emptying the final box, I grocery shopped, ran to a home improvement store to pick up some inexpensive plastic furniture and a little charcoal grill for the patio, and took a nap. After a shower and a frozen dinner, I called the girls to say goodnight, since I didn’t have them during this stretch of days off.

Both of them asked me if I’d seen Winnie. I said no and quickly moved on to other things, but when I hung up, I was still thinking about her.

I’d been fighting the idea of an apology for two days, but I realized if I ever wanted a good night’s sleep again, I was probably going to have to say I was sorry.

That thought was confirmed when I got a text from Justin that said, Did you do it?

When I didn’t answer, he followed up with a chicken and poop emoji.

“Dickhead,” I muttered.

Then I grabbed my keys and hustled out the door.





Ten





Winnie





By nine o’clock on Tuesday night, I was already in my pajamas, curled up on the couch with Piglet watching When Harry Met Sally for the one millionth time. I sighed heavily as I stroked her fur and watched the love story unfold in glorious autumn colors.

“That should be me right now, Piglet,” I said mournfully. “Walking the streets of New York City in a cute hat with someone who adores me, our feet crunching in the fallen leaves, our hearts destined to beat as one forever and ever . . .”

Piglet yawned.

“Listen. I’m feeling down about myself, okay? I’ve had a couple tough days, so just let me have tonight to wallow.” I grabbed a tissue from the box on my coffee table. “Tomorrow I’ll get out of my funk.”

As I was weeping my way through the final scene, a knock at the front door sent Piglet running for the pantry. Figuring it was Ellie, who’d said she might drop by after work so we could start planning our collaborative wine tasting dinner, I wadded up my current tissue, tossed it on the table, and hit pause.

However, when I pulled the door open, it wasn’t Ellie on the porch.

It was Dex, and he had a chocolate Frosty in his hand.

“Oh,” I said, touching my hair. “It’s you.”

He held out the Frosty. “I brought you something.”

“Why?”

He looked uncomfortable. “I don’t know. Because you said you really liked them the other night.”

I stood a little taller, wishing I wasn’t in bare feet and pajamas. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“You don’t want it?”

Of course I wanted it. I wanted him too. He looked hot as hell standing in my doorway in his jeans and T-shirt, his hair freshly combed, his scruff trimmed back.

But I didn’t want him to know that.

So I shrugged. “I’m not hungry. You can give it to the girls.”