One Bossy Offer (42)

Playing it cool isn’t working. There’s one option left.

Apologize.

I suppose I owe her one, and even if she takes her property to her grave, she’s crucial to finishing this project strong.

Boiling with nerves I can’t believe I have, I jump in my SUV and blow through the gate, on the way to her place.

It’s only a couple minutes of agonizing on the road, convincing myself I can sort this out without leaving her in tears or kissing her into oblivion.

Only, when I pull up, there’s a shiny red pickup truck parked in front of Bee Harbor.

God. Fucking. Damn.

The Playing Card.

I should tear back down the dusty road and go home, if only I didn’t see him so clearly in the house with her. Alone.

Fuck this. Why should this dolt in flannel run me off?

I came to apologize, so I will.

If Ace-hole has a problem with that, he can take it up with me.

I kill my engine and stomp to the front door, banging on it several times.

Coffee’s deep bark comes first. Cream is right behind him with shriller yips.

My heart hovers in my throat and my head is full of all the awful shit I might be interrupting when Jenn pulls the door open. Her eyes instantly pop with surprise.

“Oh. Do you need something, Mr. Cromwell?”

Ace strolls in behind her with that overly friendly golden retriever look on his face. I’d love to punch that blankness right off his ugly mug.

What the hell, man? She needs backup answering the door?

“Coffee,” I say as politely as possible, ignoring them both.

My old buddy bounds toward me and rears up to lick my face, chasing every bit of attention as I scratch behind his ear.

“Down!” Jennifer grabs his collar and tugs him back. “Do you have to get him so worked up?”

“I’m just saying hello.” I push the door open and walk inside.

She gives me just enough space to enter and anchors herself to the ground, folding her arms.

“Listen, I came to apologize for our misunderstanding over the paintings.”

“Paintings? What happened?” Ace butts in.

I shoot him a look straight from hell before my eyes flick back to her.

“I was rude to you. I shouldn’t have gotten so defensive and blown everything out of proportion,” I say roughly.

She staggers back with surprise and my eyes fall on the coffee table behind them.

There’s a fresh case of beer sitting there and—four handpicked roses beside it.

My heart fucking detonates.

This jackal.

This talking beef slab wrapped in flannel thinks he’s going to sink his dick in my kitten?

The whole world turns red, and I have to count breaths to keep myself from launching past her and grabbing his throat.

No, I’m not stupid enough to assault a man for no good reason. I’ve made it damn clear I have no claim to her.

But if I’m not careful, I might be dumb enough to turn this miserable apology into a screaming match.

I think those flowers also bother me because they’re so familiar. I’ve seen them before.

Then the chucklefuck leans in and whispers, “Jenn, if you don’t want to talk to this guy—”

She raises a hand.

“It’s cool. He’s just making more of everything than it deserves.”

Her comment pulls my attention away from him—away from the coffee table that tells me everything I need to know—and before those cool jade pools for eyes waver, I see a red toolbox beside the fireplace. My eyes naturally tick up to where the picture hangs.

Fuck.

Now I know where I’ve seen those flowers before.

What kind of shitbrained punk picks flowers out of a girl’s own garden to give her?

Scratch that. I don’t care. I shouldn’t.

I should shut my yap and finish what I came here for, and nothing more.

“I hope this isn’t a bad time.” It takes major effort to keep my voice light.

“No. Ace just dropped by to help me fix a light fixture.” She combs a hand through her auburn hair and glances at him.

I look at the oaf, who stands there like a stack of bricks in his always red shirt.

“I’ll help you. No charge. I need to make amends for what happened—”

“Cromwell, chill. There was no misunderstanding. I understood you perfectly. You don’t need to—”

“We were just finishing up.” Ace flashes a disarming smile and sends her a hungry look I want to peel right off his face. “You two need some privacy, I get it. I’ll be upstairs so you guys can talk.”

The way she smiles up at him guts me. “Thanks, Ace.”

It’s so different from the way she looks at me.

Even her tone is all butter.

I lift one corner of my mouth in a snarl, fighting the nausea swirling in my gut, counting every hellish second until he’s upstairs.

“So, I appreciate the gesture, but there’s no need for this,” she starts.

“Bullshit. I shouldn’t have lashed out earlier. The truth is I painted those flowers for your grandmother specifically because I admired her gardens. Nobody put in the effort like Lottie Risa.” A surface-level truth, but for now, it’ll have to do. I nod at the coffee table. “For the record, I’d never pick a girl’s own flowers for her.”