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CHAPTER 13
Warrick
Surprise and shock cover Chip’s face. And if I didn’t hear about the valuation directly from Gunnar himself, I’d believe the stunned-stupid expression covering Chip’s features.
But I did hear about it from Gunnar, and what reason would he have to lie to me about something like that?
“Selling my house?” She sounds dazed.
“Yeah. Gunnar told me you were having your house valuation updated.”
“And you assumed I would be selling my house. That I’d be moving.”
I don’t know how to answer that. Yes, I assumed, but I’m also giving her the chance to set the record straight.
And she’s not taking it.
“Is that what this whole thing has been about? These dates. The charm. The full-court press over the last three weeks,” she spits out.
“What?” Now I’m the one confused.
“You thought I’d be moving and you’d miss out on your chance to nail the one person in town who hasn’t slept with you.” She shakes her head. “So you decided to make a final move and trick me into going out with you?”
Hurt pierces my heart with fangs and claws.
Is that how little she thinks of me?
Her eyes fill with tears, and the urge to drag her into my arms and tell her the truth—how I feel about her—wars with the insulted pride fighting the tidal wave of anguish at her accusation.
“Well, I hope it was worth it for you. You finally got me into bed. Maybe the memory of it can keep you warm until your next conquest jumps into the sack. I’m done.”
There’s nothing I can do except stand and watch as she spins on her heel and walks away from me.
What in the actual fuck just happened?
I start to storm out of the office and make it to the doors when I hear a car door slam and then the sound of tires on gravel fade.
Was I wrong? Is she not leaving? What other reason would she have for having her house appraised?
And then I remember what she said about me, about the time we’ve shared together, and her reducing it to less than nothing in the grand scheme of things.
I stomp my way back into the office, where the filing cabinets are set up and ready to be filled with the neat piles of documents we worked on for hours. Where, for the first time since I can remember, I can see the top of the desk and actually use the damn thing.
For all her attention to detail, she sure missed the signs that I was falling for her.
A sudden stop after a short drop; it’s over now. I doubt I’ll get her to listen to reason or get to the bottom of what just happened.
I didn’t even mean enough to her to learn her real name.
The thought pinches harder than I thought it would.
By the time I’ve worked off most of my anger, the only thing that I want is a beer, a shower, and my own bed.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I pull it out to see a message from Gunnar.
Gunnar: You coming to dinner?
