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“I confronted North that evening. I told him I suspected him of sleeping with Maria and confessed that I’d followed him to work and to the apartment building. He wasn’t angry. He was sad.”
“Sad?”
“Sad. He said he wasn’t cheating, but he was ready to end our relationship. The only reason he could think to leave me was disinterest, and he didn’t know how to break it to me.” I swallow and force myself to continue, unable to stop now that I opened the dam. “He said the reason he hasn’t had sex with me was less about him being busy and more about him not wanting to lead me on. He was waiting for the right time to dump me, and since I broached the subject he took the opportunity to do it then and there.”
Moisture pricks my eyes and I bat my lashes. I cried Monday and Tuesday. And then I cried more on Wednesday and Thursday. I’m not crying today. I have a life without North and I’m determined to live it.
When I’m finally brave enough to lift my face, Barrett’s expression is neutral—he doesn’t appear pained for me or angry on my behalf.
“Need to revenge fuck someone?” he asks.
“That’s your suggestion?”
He shrugs. “It works. It helps. We’re both itchy.”
“You’re the one who's itchy, Fox. Probably from the last hostess you screwed who left behind an STD.”
He chuckles, unoffended.
“Have you ever been in a relationship that lasted longer than two minutes?” I snap.
“Yes.”
I blink. Really?
“How long were you together?” Now I’m curious.
“Six years.”
I know I look startled. How can I not? It’s startling. “Six years?”
“On and off.”
That makes more sense.
“Alternately, you could rub one out while I watch,” he offers.
My mouth drops open as his spreads into a smile. “That was a joke. Unless you’re considering it, in which case it wasn’t.” He points to the door. “That knob locks.”
I push out of my chair. He wraps a hand around my elbow and turns me. Now I’m standing awkwardly between his spread thighs, face to face with a man I am trying not to like.
But damn, does he smell good. With gentle fingers, he holds each side of my jaw. He studies my mouth for a prolonged moment before meeting my eyes.
“You’re going to be okay, Kitty Cat. He was holding you back. Guy who doesn’t care enough to cut you loose is a complete dickhead who doesn’t deserve your time. He was a coward. You’re the brave one.”
It’s such a tender comment, especially following the lewd one a few moments ago. Have I misjudged him? Under that bravado is he all heart—a muscly teddy bear?
“Do you at least want to make out while I have you here?” I swat his hands away but can’t hide my smile. He chuckles, pleased with himself at drawing one forward.
Unbelievably, I feel a bit better than before I came in here. But I have a role to play. So, when he slides off the edge of the desk, and hands me my coffee cup I take it, and then march out of the office ahead of him.
Chapter 9
Catarina
Date numero dos.
I wasn’t sure how Barrett was going to react to being thrust into a stuffy country club—and moreover, I wasn’t sure how he’d be dressed. He was a sports guy, not a golf guy. The differences between football and golf are too many to number.
