some reason, that bothers me. Angry Donovan is funny. Donovan upset…I guess, not so much.
“Listen,” I say to his back, “I didn’t mean to lead you on about the whole shower thing. I just didn’t have time to explain it to you. And it wasn’t all fake. I do find you physically attractive.” I swallow hard. “I always have.”
He turns around, takes another bite, chews and swallows before he answers. “Likewise.” His voice is neutral now rather than hostile.
My heart thumps painfully in my chest. “But obviously, nothing can happen between us. It wouldn’t end well.”
Instead of instantly agreeing with me with great gusto and mockery, he looks at me quizzically, arching an eyebrow. “Oh? And why’s that?”
He has to ask? “History.”
“Yes, we have history. We’ve grown up a little since high school, I’d like to think.”
Is he actually arguing that I should have sex with my husband? Namely, him?
“We have a very long, bad history, and whenever I believe a word that comes out of your mouth, I get burned.” I stare up at him, wanting to swim in those gorgeous green eyes. To drown in them. In the past, I almost have. “You have a habit of not keeping your promises to me. Exhibit A, prom night. For weeks beforehand, you acted like you wanted to reconcile, you were all sweetness and charm, I was stupid enough to believe you, and then you ghosted me the day before. And showed up with a date. That was fun.” I ended up going with one of Pamela’s older brothers, who got permission from his then-girlfriend, now-wife, to be my emergency standby date. He’d already graduated, so he didn’t care. Pamela had pre-arranged the whole thing because, as usual, she was smarter than me when it came to Donovan.
He winces, looking chagrined. “Yeah, I know. That was an absolutely dick move. I was working up the guts to tell my father that I wasn’t going to Oregon State and I wasn’t going to work at the vineyard, and I was freaking out. Things were terrible at home, and I just didn’t have the cojones to go through with it. I’m really, truly sorry for that. I was eighteen. I was a different person then. How can I make it up to you? Would you like to punch me?”
“Back then, I would have liked that. Very much.” I shrug, as if it didn’t matter at all. It did. It hurt for a long, long time. “Exhibit B, all the times that you harassed me in grade school and high school.” The two of us would spend months ignoring each other, and then he’d do something to reignite the feud. In grade school, he put tacks on my seat. The next day I broke into his locker, stole his lunch, filled his lunchbox with cow manure, then sat there at my table with my friends, eating his lunch and looking him right in the eye. As the years went by, we matured, but our pranks never did.
“You harassed me right back! In fact, half the damn time you started it! You and your terrifying girl gang. After…” He trails off.
“Yes. The harassment war started after…Exhibit C. Your tenth birthday party.”
I wait for an explanation for that one.
“We should get dressed,” he says, and spins on his heel and walks to the bedroom.
Chapter Nine
DONOVAN
As we drive into town, I’m mentally smacking myself upside the head for my clumsy approach. When it comes to business deals, I’m the ultimate smooth operator. When I try to talk to Sienna about something important, my tongue decides to tie itself in knots like a kid playing cat’s cradle.
What was I even asking her for? What do I want from her? Do I want her to forget all our history and…what? Suddenly decide she’s my wife for real? Not going to happen. Not overnight, anyway.
Do I want casual sex? Well, hell yeah, except sex with Sienna could never be casual. Not for me.
We pull up in the public parking lot at the beginning of the jogging trail. It’s a gorgeous trail, winding through the woods right next to downtown, with several trails that branch off of it so you can run various distances. It’s a mild, sunny Saturday morning, and dozens of cars are parked here already.
Sienna’s wearing a Ribaldi Winery T-shirt and pink jogging shorts, which hug her booty in a way that makes me jealous of the fabric, and crappy pink sneakers with ankle socks.
“What?” she says