Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 134746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 674(@200wpm)___ 539(@250wpm)___ 449(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 674(@200wpm)___ 539(@250wpm)___ 449(@300wpm)
Determined, I set the basket down, rip the blanket off the top, and spread it on the sand before plunking down with the basket at my hip.
Honestly, it’s a barrier. So we can keep a little space from each other.
August stands at the edge of the blanket, looking down at it skeptically.
I point at the free space.
“Sit,” I command. “Eat.”
With another long sigh, August steps on the blanket and sinks down slowly to sit cross-legged. He keeps his eyes on his hands as he pulls off his polished dress shoes and shakes sand out over the side of the blanket.
“We’re here. You want to explain what the hell’s going on?”
I mutter under my breath, then dig out one of the wrapped sandwiches inside and thrust it at him. “We’re going to sit and eat lunch. That’s all. Capisce?”
He doesn’t say anything or take the sandwich.
He just sets his shoes down on the blanket, his long feet angular inside black dress socks, and looks at me strangely.
Eep.
I can’t do this if he’s just going to stare at me like I’ve got two heads, and not even let me use the pretense of eating to work my way up to what I want to say.
My hand on the sandwich trembles, and my outstretched arm starts to dip a bit.
Just take it, I plead silently, making myself watch him. Take it so we can pretend everything is fine for a few seconds. Just eat and relax and take the olive branch, call a truce.
But all he does is look at me.
Until he says, “I’m sorry.”
I blink.
It’s so abrupt my hand drops, the sandwich wrap crinkling as it lands on the blanket.
“Huh?” I don’t understand.
This time, August’s sigh is more patient. He’s still giving me that hangdog look, but at least he’s looking at me.
“I said I’m fucking sorry,” he repeats. “We did something without thinking. And then, instead of talking to you about it, I shut you out and left you flapping in the breeze for days.” There’s a hint of scorn and disgust in his voice, and I think it’s directed at himself. “I shouldn’t have treated you that way.”
My mouth opens and shuts.
My heart does that weird compacting thing again, but I don’t know if it’s relief or fresh hurt coming up as I remember that night, or—
“Why did you?” I ask.
“Because I’m an idiot, Elle. I panicked,” August retorts bluntly. “When I don’t know what to do, I shut people out.”
“Asshole move,” I quip.
“Yes, I’m aware. I’ve been trying to figure out how to address it all week.”
I blink at him again.
Then I throw the sandwich at him. “Not by ignoring me, dude!”
“Hey!” August’s arms come up. The sandwich bounces off them and lands next to the basket. “I deserved that, but why waste good food?”
“Asshole,” I repeat. “Stupid, awkward asshole.”
“Yeah,” he grunts, hanging his head. “The kids would say, ‘I never figured out how to people.’”
“I’ve kinda figured that out by now,” I huff, folding my arms over my chest and looking away. “Asshole.”
“You don’t have to forgive me, Elle. That’s not what I’m asking for.”
I shrug one shoulder, turning my nose up. “It’s not like we’re really dating. You can’t exactly break my heart.”
I’m such a bad liar.
“I suppose that’s good news,” he says, sounding dejected.
God, I really wasn’t far off the mark when I compared him to an angry outcast boy.
Grown-ass man can handle global billion-dollar business matters but can’t handle talking about his emotions.
. . . but I guess I’m not being much better, huffing and puffing at him, all up in my wounded feels. He did apologize before I had to ask for an apology. That’s more than most men give.
I try to relent a little.
“August?” Exhaling, I glance back at him.
“Yeah?” There’s the puppy dog again. Head coming up, ears practically pricking. Never would have imagined this the first time I met him.
Dammit. I can’t stay mad at this absolute grumpy goober of a man.
But I will not let him make my heart flutter.
I won’t.
“We can be friends, you know,” I say. Maybe that will be the olive branch that smooths this out so we can go back to pretending. And so I can forget how he felt inside me, practically hollowing me out and making me burn in ways I felt the next day. “We can talk about things without making something formal about it. It’s okay to just talk to me about what you’re thinking. And . . .” I swallow. Yeah, I’m a bit nervous. “And we can talk about what we did.”
August tilts his head, considering it, before he says, “I appreciate that. More than I can tell you.” There’s a way he talks when I know he’s sincere, bringing that panther purr back to his voice. “I do like you, Elle. I respect you.”