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“If you want me to.”
“Stop saying all the right things,” she grumbles. “I’m mad at you.”
“Understood.”
“And we need to get together to go over some of the art pieces I found for your house. Won’t that be fun,” she says sarcastically.
“It definitely could be.”
“You’re being glib. Stop it.”
I laugh. “I don’t even know what glib means.”
“Figure it out and stop.”
“For you, anything.”
Another growly sound. “Your beard looked better when it was shorter.”
“I’ll get it trimmed just for you,” I say, more amused than anything.
“I’ll call you tomorrow and set up a meeting to discuss the art pieces and some general concepts I came up with. I’ll probably still be mad.”
“As long as I get to see you.”
“You do realize you said you love me, right?” she continues. “You just let that slip out all casually, but I know you know you said it.”
“I realize I said it, and I meant it.”
“The first time should be special, and you blew it.”
It’s all I can do to keep from laughing at her efforts to get in as many complaints as possible.
“Sorry,” I say.
“I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Try not to bet on any sexual conquests between now and then, if you can help yourself.”
“I promise it won’t ever happen again.”
“Bye, Pike.”
“Bye, Indie.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Indie
* * *
I muster my most intimidating mom glare as I ring Pike’s doorbell. Nothing like having to show up at the house of the man I’m furious with, laptop tucked under my arm so I can do my job and make his house pretty.
Asshole. I’d like to decorate his house with nothing but close-up photos of male anatomy. Hairy balls and uncircumcised dicks. That would make my day.
He opens the door and gives me a sheepish look. “Hey, come on in.”
“Hi,” I say coolly, walking inside the entryway.
Immediately, I tune in to what I’m hearing and I can’t really believe it. “Why are you playing Taylor Swift music?”
“I thought you’d like it. You said she’s your favorite musical artist.”
I roll my eyes. “Kissing my ass won’t make me forgive you.”
“Not even with tongue?” He gives me a devilish grin and my body heats in response.
“Ugh, no.”
I pretend to be disgusted even though I’m really not. I’m actually intrigued. Aroused, even.
“Can we sit at the kitchen table and discuss what I found?” I ask, all business.
“Yeah, sure.”
He leads the way into the kitchen, turning to ask, “Can I get you a drink?”
“No, thanks.”
I open my laptop and open the folder I have all my conceptual ideas stored in, forcing myself not to show all the emotions running through me.
Anger—there’s still a lot of anger. But, if I’m honest with myself, there’s also longing for Pike, no matter how much I reprimand myself for letting this man make me feel anything. It’s only been a few days, but I missed him a lot. I want to hug him and laugh with him. Kiss him. And more. I won’t let anyone treat me like a doormat, though.
Part of me wants to accept his apology and give him another chance. He gave me another chance after I made the stupid mistake of accusing him of being a thief and a liar.
The other part of me feels afraid, though. What if I make another mistake, just like I did when I fell for Dean?
“I thought you might like this,” Pike says, setting a pint of Ben and Jerry’s Caramel Chocolate Cheesecake ice cream and a spoon next to my computer.
Some of my anger melts away as I look up at him. “Where did you find this?”
“Overnight delivery from LA.”
“Really?”
“That’s one of your favorites, right?”
I smile, touched by the gesture. “It is.”
“I also bought a digital copy of Silver Linings Playbook. I’m hoping we can watch it together sometime.”
“Sure.” I turn my laptop to face him, determined to show him the art pieces I found and some other ideas I thought he might like. “So what do you think of these? You can just click the arrow to page through them.”
He sits down and I watch his face as he looks at the photos of nature scenes I chose. His expression changes when he clicks on one, his eyes lighting and his lips curling into a grin.
Turning to look at the screen, I see that it’s a photo of a wheat field with a vibrantly colored sunset in the background.
“This reminds me of home,” he says. “I love it.”
“I thought you might. I also found a vintage sign that has KCK written on it in a nice script. I was thinking we could do the main living room area in a Midwestern nature vibe, with a focus on Kansas City, Kansas. Lots of wood tones and earthy shades for the furniture.”
“That sounds perfect.”
I hesitate, questioning whether he actually likes it. “Because you really like it, or because you want me to forgive you?”
