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“Who the hell is that?” his voice is a low feral growl.
As pissed as I am at his little show and tell in the diner, I’m still having to clinch my legs together to will down the heat that blazes in my core. He sets fires in places unimaginable. Pressing my fingers to his chest, I try to press him back, but he’s too solid to budge.
“I ain’t movin’, sweetheart’, ‘til you answer me.”
“Colton, you’re bein’ an ass.”
“Maybe so. Who the hell is HE, Carly Jo? Don’t make me ask you again.” He presses harder up against me, breathing his hot breath across my face.
“Luke Ashton.”
He takes a step back and looks at me with quizzical eyes, then laughs. “Bullshit.”
I cross my arms across my chest, popping my hip to the side just as the attitude starts to fly. “Bullshit, really? Go ask him. Hell, ID him. After this little act you put on in there I’m sure he will get a barrel of laughs out of that.” Laughter bubbles up in my chest, and I think it is clear that I am so stressed with my life that I’m truly on the breaking point. I see a pretty new pink jacket in my future. Ya know the kind that buckles in the back?
“THAT is Luke Ashton? The little, lanky white trash shit that used to live up Millers Branch?”
“One in the same, honey,” I sneer at him. If smoke could roll out of his ears right now, I’m sure it would.
“And just what the hell are you doin’ with that dick?”
“I ain’t doin’ nothin’, with any damn body.”
“Sure as hell didn’t look like nothin’, baby!”
We stand in the parking lot, passing the minutes by as Colton takes his sissy tantrum over Luke and I, ending up at the same place and the same time. It’s coincidence, but to Colton it’s anything but.
Finally having enough of his shit, I climb inside the car, daring him to touch me. Throwing his hands up in defeat, he stomps off to his truck. Mascara laced tears run down my face. I let the rumble of the Camaro settle my nerves briefly, before I streak the rubber against the road and speed towards home.
Chapter 27
By the time I get home, my food is cold, and my appetite is diminished. I put the food in the refrigerator, then climb the steps towards the bubble bath that’s calling my name.
I start the bath water, and turn it to a scorching heat that will surely singe my skin, before adding some cherry blossom bubble bath. I pull my hair up on top of my head, and strip the clothes from my body. I set the iPod on the docking station, letting Adele’s Rolling in the Deep fill the room. Grabbing my Kindle from the nightstand, I carry my tired, vanquished body towards the promise of a relaxing bath.
Testing the water with the tip of my toe, I jerk back quickly from the sensation of the heat, before stepping in and sitting down in the water quickly. I lay back in the bubble filled tub, stretching my limbs and allow the warmth of the water and the scent of cherry blossoms carry away the tension from this day. I grab the Kindle from the tub tray, and open Relinquishing Liberty by Maureen Mayer. This is the first book in her Second Chances series, and I’m totally swooning over Shayne Thompson. I’m anxiously awaiting the second release in the series, Unforeseen Heartbeat, because I hear that Hunter Bryant is just as sexy. These fictional men are so much more pleasing and less dramatic than the real jackasses in my life. Don’t judge me, I love my romance smut novels.
After reading seven chapters, I’ve soaked in the bubble bath until my skin reflects that of a shriveled prune, the scalding water has turned luke-warm, and the bubbles are no
w small suds dancing across the water. I pull the drain from the tub, and set aside the bath tub tray in the floor before starting the shower. I wash off quickly, leaving my hair for another day. I step out of the shower, and wrap a towel around my body, before padding through my bedroom for my favorite UK sweats.
Just as I’m getting dressed, the doorbell rings. My heart sinks to the bottom of my stomach, because I know on the other side of that door will either be an amused Luke Ashton, or a very pissed off Colton Weston. I take my time making my way down the stairs, as I try to steady the nerves that are threatening to jump right out of my skin. The doorbell rings again, just as my feet hit the bottom stair. I pad over to the front door, twist the locks and pull the door towards me. Before I can even peak around the door to see who is on the other side, Colton stomps inside. Should have known.
“Did slamming the car door in your face give you the impression that I needed a follow up visit from you tonight? Or are you a glutton for punishment?” I sneer at him, slamming the door shut. He’s one ballsy son of a bitch to show up here after the shit fit he took at the diner.
Colton’s head snaps up to mine, throwing daggers at me with his eyes. “What the hell was that back at the diner?” Colton growls.
“I’d love to know the same damn thing,” I throw back at him. He takes two steps forward closing in the distance between us.
“Really? ‘Cause I’ll tell you what I saw, Carly Jo. I saw some dick with his hands on my woman. I saw a smile on my woman’s face that only I should put there.”
“So you’re pissed because someone else made me smile?” I ask, laughter bubbling in my voice.
“No, I’m frickin’ pissed because he touched you, and you loved it. I’m pissed because after every damn thing we’ve been through, I’m here trying to love you, but you keep pushin’ me away.” He growls at me.
“My god you’re so frustratin’. You would turn somethin’ as simple as me pickin’ up dinner, into a nasty fight.”
“Simple? Tell me how Luke Ashton putting his nasty ass hands all over you is simple.”
