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But I had no idea why she was being so hostile to me. It was obvious she had recognized me because she had dropped a fucking vase for crying out loud. One she wouldn’t let me help her clean up. I am very observant, I know she moved the lilacs from the front since this morning. I told her they were my favorite, she doesn’t seem forgetful, just a little unprofessional. I hadn’t done anything to her and she was treating me like flattened gum on the bottom of shoe.
The ride was uncomfortably silent to the floral shop in the city. I guess she had partnered with them for bigger orders. I wanted to break the silence so many times, but I was afraid she would scream at me or something. She was clenching her hands so hard, the color was fading.
“Is something bothering you?” I finally asked. I couldn’t take it, I was being attacked in secret or something. Did I look at her wrong? Some women can be sensitive about that. But we had already been very, very acquainted with each other so I doubt there is anywhere I could look that would actually bother her.
“No.” she answered, her voice short and stern. I glanced at her, all I heard were her shallow inhales over the rev of the quiet engine.
I can’t say I didn’t try. She directed me to the shop but that was it. Once I parked, I stopped her before we went inside.
“Look, I am not one for games. I know you recognize me from the ball last month.” I trapped her between my front and the passenger door. Her eyes widened as she looked up at me.
Those baby doll eyes undid me, my anger softened as I looked down at her. She was so beautiful. She doesn’t hide her beautiful freckles with makeup, or her flawless porcelain skin. Her eyes were so clear, with so much wonder. Just like that night. Her thin brows knitted as she looked through the sun at me. Her hair was like a wave of strawberry sherbet, framing her face with wavy curls.
“Do you not remember?” I smirked a bit. Knowing there was no way she could forget.
&
nbsp; “No. I remember.”
“Well, is that why you’re being difficult? We can still get along and get this done. If you don’t want to…” maybe she was nervous about being around me again. Sometimes it happens, you have sex with someone you don’t know and then you see them again, wondering what to do. “We can just be friends, we don’t have to have sex again.”
Her jaw jutted back in response as she scoffed. She held her hands up and backed away from the car.
“Whoa, you are seriously sick!” I furrowed my brow in confusion.
“Sick? How am I sick? Everyone has casual sex you know, even with strangers. Nothing wrong with that.” She stepped back, crossing her arms as if to shield herself from me.
“There is a problem when you’re engaged!”
Chapter Seventeen: Tristan
I stared back at her. Confused, very confused. Her cute button nose was scrunched up as she glared up at me, her eyes in narrow slits. I would be a lot more pissed at her accusation if she did not look so damned cute right now. And beautiful. The sunlight makes her ethereal.
“Sorry?” I finally managed to say something back. A smirk fought my lips, but I knew it would only make her angrier if I saw any humor in her utter confusion.
“Don’t play dumb, it’s unbecoming.”
A couple walked past us. We were too public, I was thinking of her reputation first. She was too angry to notice, but I did and I am not that much of an asshole.
“Come here.”
I did not wait for her to agree, I took her slender wrist in my hand and pulled her to the first private place I saw. A secluded room with a thick screen door. No one could see us. Once inside, I turned to face her she was still fuming.
“Look, Emilia, I don’t know what you think is going on here, but I’m not engaged.” I said with a simple, even tone. I thought it would convince her but, I guessed wrong.
“You’re a really good liar. Honestly, I just feel bad for your fiancé.”
I furrowed my brow and pinched the bridge of my nose like an old man. It wasn’t until I let out a heavy sigh that I could speak calmly again.
“I’m not engaged. My best friend is. He’s a lawyer and he doesn’t have time to do all this. I’m the best man and he asked for my help.”
“You said ‘the bride and I’ in your voicemail.” She interrupted my train.
“Yeah, but not my bride. Gabriella isn’t my type.” A nervous laugh escaped me.
“Oh yeah? What is?” She crossed her arms, making her breasts push against her collarbone, creating a swell I just wanted to run my lips across. I actively tried not to lick my lips.
“Strawberry blonde and sassy.” I smirked. Her eyes widened, her expression softened. She looked like my baby doll again.
