Taming Hollywood's Baddest Boy - Max Monroe Page 0,48
bag of M&Ms and one of the high-calorie protein bars Earl packed in her bag.
She’s hungry. No doubt.
“What does that shrug mean? Are you not sure if you’re hungry?” I ask, and I can’t hide the smirk from my lips. “I can practically hear your stomach growling from over here, princess.”
Apparently, watching the fire is too interesting for her to respond.
“Well, how about I plate you some fish and green beans, and you can decide if you want to eat it or not?”
She shrugs again. “Whatever.”
Jesus. She’s got the willpower of an Olympic athlete.
I set to work on putting several hearty pieces of trout onto the reusable plates from my bag and add a helping of warm veggies. One for Bailey, one for me, and one for Ms. Cold Shoulder.
Bailey dives in like he hasn’t eaten in days, and thankfully, Billie actually takes the plate from my hands and doesn’t throw it into the fire.
Besides the snuffly snort of a canine scarfing down his food and the surrounding sounds of nature, the silence between Billie and me is omnipresent.
I let it go for a little while, discreetly watching her eat her food as I do the same with mine, but when she’s finished half the contents of her plate without saying anything, I decide to address the pink elephant in our nonexistent room.
“Are you mad at me?” I ask, and she lifts her eyes from her plate, chewing a fresh bite of trout.
“No.”
A soft chuckle escapes my lips. “Bullshit.”
“What? I’m not mad,” she refutes falsely. It’s the equivalent of a woman saying she’s fine when she’s so obviously not fine.
“Princess…” I pause and will her eyes to meet mine. “You’ve hardly said a word since you called my boner stupid on the trail.”
She purses her pretty lips. “That’s not true.”
“It’s true. You know it’s true, and I think it’s time I extend an olive branch your way.”
“An olive branch?”
“Yeah,” I answer. “I’d like to apologize for the morning wood—even though I couldn’t exactly help it—and for making you feel uncomfortable earlier today.”
She glares. “You were finding amusement in my discomfort.”
“Yes,” I admit with a soft smile. “Isn’t that what we do? We argue and tease and find joy in the other’s misery.”
“That sounds fucking terrible.” She snorts and resumes staring at her half-eaten food like it’s the most interesting thing she’s ever seen.
“I don’t know…” I remark with a smirk. “I’m pretty sure I’ve been enjoying it.”
Her gaze jerks up to meet mine.
“You’re just very cute when you’re all flustered,” I admit.
Because, fuck, she is cute, and not just when she’s flustered.
Though, I choose to keep the latter to myself.
“For the love of God, don’t get a boner over it,” she retorts, and I laugh.
“Smartass.”
Her face relaxes, and the first smile I’ve seen on her face all day starts at the corners of her lips and doesn’t stop until it consumes her whole mouth. A giggle follows.
Thank fuck.
“Is the fish okay?” I ask, trying to change the subject to less risky territory.
She nods. “My daddy used to make trout for us all the time in the summer. His favorite fishing lake was not too far from our house.”
I take her relaxed admission as a good sign and strive to keep on this path of conversation.
I’ll chat about anything with her at this point if it gets her talking again.
“He liked the outdoors?”
“Loved it. Hunting, fishing, you name it, and Daddy was a fan.”
I grin at the irony. “Your dad loved the outdoors, and yet you seem to hate it.”
Her laugh is infectious. “Obviously, those genetics weren’t passed down to me.”
“Where did you grow up?”
“West Virginia.”
“Really?” My eyes go wide in surprise. “I would’ve never guessed.”
“And I would’ve figured my accent tipped me off.”
I shake my head. “I thought you were from a southern state like Georgia or Alabama.”
“Nope.” She shakes her head as she finishes chewing a bite of fish. “Born and raised in West Virginia.”
“And now you live in LA?”
“Yep.” She nods and finishes another bite. “Been there for over four years now.”
“But your family is still back on the East Coast?”
“Not really.” She shakes her head, and I quirk a questioning brow toward her. “Most of my closest family have passed away, and my sister, Birdie, is currently in Nashville, working on her country music career.”
“Your parents aren’t alive anymore?”
“Died when I was nine.”
Damn, that’s fucking awful. And I feel like a dick for bringing it up.