Ignite (Cloverleigh Farms #6)(36)
He took another drink. “Did I tell you the girls raised prices for the swear box on Sundays?”
That made me laugh. “Did they?”
“Yes. Because of Jesus. I now owe a buck-fifty if I say the F word on Sundays.”
“Smart girls.” I licked the spoon again, a little more seductively than necessary.
“Listen, Winnie, I need to tell you something.” His knee was bouncing up and down like he was nervous.
“Okay.”
“It’s not that I didn’t like the taste of your dessert.”
I tilted my head. “Huh?”
“I mean, it’s not that I didn’t like what happened the other night,” he said, agitated. “Between us.”
“Oh.”
“It’s just that I don’t date. And I didn’t want to mislead you. You’re so young, I felt bad that I—”
“You thought I might be too young to understand that just because you kissed me, you’re not my boyfriend now?”
He laughed sheepishly. “Kind of.”
“Well, you can relax.” After cleaning off the spoon once more, I stuck it in the Frosty and left it. “I’m actually not looking for a boyfriend at the moment. In fact, I’m doing the opposite—I’m purposely staying single for the rest of the year.”
“Oh yeah?” Slightly more relaxed—his leg had stopped the bouncing—he took another drink. “Why’s that?”
“I’m sort of a love junkie. I’m rehabilitating myself.”
“A what?”
I laughed. “A love junkie—someone who’s addicted to love. But the problem is, I get all caught up in the rush of a new relationship and ignore red flags. And the type of guy I’m usually attracted to comes with a lot of them.”
“What type of guy is that?”
“Handsome, smart, Prince Charming types. Confident to the point of arrogance. The guy every girl wants and every guy wants to be.”
“So you date a lot of selfish assholes?”
“Indeed, I find their narcissism irresistible.”
He laughed, shaking his head. “How is that possible?”
“I don’t know. I guess I like capturing their attention. I think to myself, ‘This guy could have anyone, and he wants me.’ Something about that feels good. But . . .” I looked at my left hand, fingers spread. “It doesn’t last, and I wind up disappointed.”
“Were you married or something?” He gestured toward my hand.
“Engaged. Very briefly.”
“To who?”
“To a very handsome and charismatic asshole named Merrick, who now lives in Manhattan where I imagine he is joyfully banging an array of hot models, which was what he told me he’d rather do than be with me.”
“Got it.” He took another drink. “So this stretch of being single—it’s going to cure you of your taste for those guys?”
“Hopefully.” I shrugged. “But if not, I will at least prove to myself that it’s possible to be happy without being in love.”
He gave me one of his signature grunts. “It’s definitely possible.”
“Oh, that’s right,” I said, amused. “You don’t believe in happily ever after.”
“Who told you that? Wait, never mind.” He shook his head. “Those two cannot keep their mouths shut.”
“So it’s true?”
“Yes.”
“Was your divorce that bad?”
“My marriage was that bad.”
“Ah.” A hot gust of wind ruffled my hair, and I tucked it behind my ear. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I wouldn’t change anything. I got Hallie and Luna out of it, and I can’t imagine my life without them, so I figure this was always how it was supposed to be.”
I tilted my head. “You think you were destined to be unhappily married?”
He took another sip. “I think I was meant to be a father, but not a husband.”
“Got it.” I looked up at the sky. It was too cloudy to see stars tonight. “I think I was meant to be a wife and a mother.”
“You’re young. You’ve got plenty of time.”
I chewed my bottom lip a moment. “Can I ask you something kind of personal?”
He gave me a wary sideways glance. “Okay.”
“Did you leave your marriage? Or did she?”
“She asked me to leave.”
“Oh.” A minute ticked by in silence, while my mind wandered between the past and the present. “My mom left us when I was two.”
He was silent a moment. “That must have been tough.”
“I think it was harder on my sisters. I was so young, I don’t even remember her living in the same house with us. I grew up hardly knowing her.”
“You didn’t visit her?”
“At first we did. She moved down to Georgia after she left, and my sisters and I would visit her there during the summer for a couple weeks, but we never loved it.”
He sipped his beer again. “I used to go really long periods of time without seeing my kids—months and months, when I was deployed. I dealt with it because I had to. But now I can’t imagine it. I fucking miss them when I don’t see them for five days.”