“He’s a tough nut to crack, I agree.” And I wasn’t going to waste my time trying. He might look like a grown man on the outside, but he had the temperament of a stubborn brat. “Thanks for the leftovers. Breakfast was delicious.”
I went back to the cottage with every intention of changing into my bathing suit, grabbing some sunscreen, a towel, and my book, and sitting in the sand for hours. I’d earned it, hadn’t I? I’d read, I’d swim, I’d relax—what I would not do was waste one more second thinking about Jack Valentini.
At least, I tried not to think about him.
I put on the suit, rubbed in the sunscreen, and sat on the towel with my book, but all I did was stare at the same page, cursing his name and letting my anger fester.
I mean, what an asshole! How dare he treat me that way! How dare he make those shitty remarks after I’d tried so hard to please him yesterday! And after that kiss—which he’d initiated! I’d been doing a good job keeping my hands to myself. This was on him, not me. Tossing my book aside, I crossed my arms and scowled beneath the floppy brim of my sun hat.
That’s what his problem is. He’s mad at himself, and he’s taking it out on me. This isn’t just about weddings on the farm. This is about him being unable to handle the fact that he’s attracted to me—someone he sees as a spoiled rotten rich city girl who always gets what she wants. And even if he hated all my ideas, that doesn’t give him the right to be rude.
Even a swim in chilly Lake Huron couldn’t take the hot edge off my anger. That asshole owed me an apology—and he needed to hear what I had to say! Maybe the old Margot would have stayed cool, brushed it off, taken the high road, but she had been replaced of late by New Margot. And New Margot didn’t hold back! She spoke her mind. She threw scones. She stood up for herself.
So after spending the entire day dying to tell Jack Valentini just what I thought of him (and the entire evening drinking wine and eating leftover French toast casserole), I showered off the sand and sunscreen, threw on some clothes, and stomped through the dark to his house to do just that.
Fifteen
Jack
I was lying on the couch, drowning in misery, when I heard someone approaching the cabin. Immediately on edge, I sat up and listened. My windows were open, and I heard a voice. A female voice.
It was quiet at first, as if she were muttering to herself, but grew a little louder as she got closer. “…so you can go to hell, asshole. I’ve never been so mad at anyone in my entire life. How dare you say those things to me after what you did yesterday? You should be ashamed of yourself.”
Margot.
Was she coming here to tell me off?
If so, I deserved it. I’d been way out of line this morning. But she had me so fucking worked up—I’d tried so hard to do what I said, look her right in the eye and feel nothing, and I’d failed. Everything about her got to me—the long blond hair, the blue eyes, the fair skin, the pearl necklace, the graceful hands. I couldn’t see her legs beneath the table, but they drove me crazy anyway. Then there were other things, not even physical—the lilt of her voice, the excitement in her smile, the confidence she had in herself and her ideas, the genuine enthusiasm for our farm. Other than a few nervous glances early on, she’d hardly seemed rattled by my presence. And I’d been a fucking mess.
So I’d taken it out on her, on all of them. Tried to make them feel guilty for distorting my dream, when I knew they were just trying to build on it. But dammit! I didn’t want things to change around here. I didn’t want the farm to be something new and different. I didn’t want to be someone new and different. And Margot, who’d never been told no in her life, didn’t understand what it was like to feel like you were losing control of what mattered to you. None of them did! This wasn’t just about weddings at the farm. It was about everything in my life feeling so slippery all of a sudden. About being unable to hold on to what mattered.
I sighed, closing my eyes as she drew closer.
But I shouldn’t have treated her that way. It wasn’t her fault I was so drawn to her. She had no idea that she was part of what was making me feel so unsteady. I owed her an apology, but after that, I needed to stay away from her.
I opened the door before she even knocked, and her mouth fell open in surprise. I was surprised too—she looked so different. Her hair was wet, and although she wore a flowery summer dress, she had no makeup or jewelry on. My heart knocked against my ribs. She’s so beautiful.
Beautiful and fucking furious.
Her mouth snapped shut, her eyes narrowing. “I have something to say to you.”
“So say it.” I joined her on the porch, shutting the door behind me so the cat didn’t try to get out. I figured I owed it to Margot to let her bitch at me. What could she say that I hadn’t said to myself?
First, she parked her hands on her hips and then she poked a finger in my chest. “You’re not nice.”