Last night, everything was exciting and hot and heavy. I guess that I didn’t anticipate things being this weird between us today.
Although Ridge seems completely fine. It’s only me who is acting like a stray, sketched-out kitten.
I’m not this girl. I’m bold and opinionated. I’m not bashful or dainty. And yet, right now, I can’t even look this man in the eye because I’m so freaking timid.
As I start to head out of the kitchen to go to the bathroom, he calls behind me, “Do you want chocolate chips in your pancakes or plain?”
The moment the words leave Ridge’s lips, I come to a stop under the archway that leads to the hall where the bathroom is. I stand there, frowning for a moment before I turn back toward him. I keep my clothes tight against my chest as I take in the sight of his back to me while he makes pancakes for our breakfast.
“Why are you making me pancakes?” I whisper.
He doesn’t turn to face me right away, but continues to flip them over.
“I mean, I woke up hungry and wanted some,” he says matter-of-factly. “Figured the nice thing to do would be to share them with the woman who had made me come so many times last night before I gave her a lift back to her place.” He turns to face me, shrugging. “But if you’ve got something against pancakes, more for me, sweetheart.”
I love pancakes. Plain and chocolate chip. But the thing is, I’m not even sure it’s the pancakes I want as much as it is to sit at the table and chat with the man who made them. And that right there is an issue because I’ve already crossed the line of professionalism, and now, the more we drag this out, the more complicated it becomes.
Okay, that’s an understatement. I took dynamite, and I blew up the freaking line altogether.
“The truce ended at midnight, remember?” I whisper. “I don’t think people who hate each other eat pancakes together. Do you?” His face falls, but before he even has time to answer, I sigh. “I, uh, should probably change and get going. But it’s not that far, so I think I’ll walk.”
His expression goes from bummed to aggravated. “It’s fifteen degrees outside.” He states the words almost like he’s taunting me. “I’ll give you a ride.” His eyes narrow like he’s challenging me. “But not until you eat a goddamn pancake.”
“That wasn’t the deal, Ridge,” I growl quickly. “What are we even doing right now?”
Putting a few pancakes on two plates, he sets them down on the table. “We’re eating breakfast, Fireball—that’s what we’re doing.” He jerks his chin upward. “Go change, before they get cold.”
Instead of arguing with him over why it’s a bad idea for us to drag our time out together, I walk down the hallway, keeping my clothes in my arms. I can’t stop wondering why he isn’t just letting me go. And why he cares if I walk home when it’s cold outside.
Him caring is making this whole thing messier than it already was.
I turn down the driveway, not bothering to say anything to my passenger because it’s obvious she doesn’t want to talk. I had to practically force her to eat my pancakes, and I know they were good because I’d made sure not to burn them today.
The short drive to Stella’s rental has been quiet and awkward as fuck. I knew, today, we’d go back to how we usually are, but how we usually are is more fun than whatever this shit is. She’s quiet and acting nervous. She’s fidgeting with her hands, and she’s never struck me as someone who fidgets. I guess because she’s always so confident.
Just before my truck comes to a stop in front of the house, I glance over at her. “What you said yesterday …” I pause. “About Tucker.”
“What about it?” she utters mindlessly.
“Would you really do that?” I press the brakes, shifting my truck into park. “You’d go to the one you think is the weakest link to try to get what you want?”
I expect her to leap from my truck like her ass is on fire, but instead, she turns toward me. Her eyes hold the same look in them that I saw at the tree farm yesterday. Only now, there’s a hint of anger too. Yesterday, there was only sadness.
“Ridge, no offense, but some of us have to do shit for our work that we don’t love. So, yes, if charming a client to get what I want, all while keeping my clothes on, is what it takes, I will absolutely do that.” She looks out the window, nodding toward the ocean in front of the house. “I don’t just … get to live in a beautiful home. I have to work for what I have. And guess what. Because I have a thing called a vagina, I have to work twice as hard.”
I know what she’s trying to say. She sees our beautiful houses and ocean views and assumes that our lives are easy and that we’ve been given everything we have just because our familyowns the wharf and the land our houses are on. But she couldn’t be more wrong.
“Do you think I love waking up at three in the morning most days to go to work? Or do you think I enjoy the fact that I have to go to the chiropractor a few times a month just because my back is fucked up from breaking traps aboard for as many years as I have? What about the weeks or months when there are absolutely no fucking lobsters out there, and the price of bait and fuel is through the roof, but I know my bills aren’t going to stop coming in the mail, and neither are my crew’s?” I’m pissed now, and I don’t even try to hide it. “And what about the rough days where I’m out there, constantly watching the two guys on the stern of my boat, worrying the worst will happen and it’ll be my fault? Do you think that shit’s easy?” I’m practically growling now. “I’ll give you the answer. It’s not. But this land? Knowing, one day, the next generation in our family will take this over and it’ll keep being passed down? That’s what makes it worth it.”
I look straight ahead. “You’re wasting your time, Stella. My family—Tucker included—will never give this up.”
My jaw tenses as all the fun we had last night disappears, and all that’s left is the hate for this woman who thinks she can insult us by coming here and throwing a check at us.
“My parents invited you to dinner to be nice, but there’s no reason for you to stay anymore. You should pack your shit and get the fuck out of town. Before you’ve made an enemy of more than just me.”
Now, I look over at her, holding her hazel eyes with my own. “Go home, city girl. You don’t belong here.” I should stop there, but I’m fucking mad. “Don’t bother trying to seduce Tucker; you won’t get anywhere with him. And besides, I had you the entire night, in every position possible, and I still wouldneverso much as consider taking your deal.”
“Fuck you,” she hisses, eyes narrowing. “You know what I think?”
