The Ex Factor - Erin McCarthy Page 0,13

Angry sex wasn’t necessarily healthy, but that didn’t make it any less hot. Shifting on the hard-packed ground she ignored his comment. The man didn’t need his ego stroked. Or anything stroked for that matter.

“I don’t think we should write a breakup album. That’s not what our fans expect from us. They want love songs. That’s a formula that has proven to be successful.” Besides, she was afraid to write a bunch of songs about what had gone wrong between them. Her emotions were still confused and raw and if they couldn’t even articulate to themselves, let alone each other, what the heck had happened, how in the world could they write songs about it?

He made a face at her. “You want to write a bunch of love songs? That is not going to read genuine given our current dynamic. It will sound like drivel.”

“Are you doubting your songwriting abilities?”

It was a jab and she knew it, but she thought she had a valid point. It made sense to give fans what they wanted. Of course, because the suggestion was hers instead of his, he was going to argue about it. It was a completely irritating quality he had. Know-it-all. She felt the familiar prickle of frustration creeping over her.

He gave her a long look. “No. Of course not. But why not do something a little different, keep it fresh? Fans want our story. This is our story. Not a bunch of sappy shit.”

Wow. He was relegating twelve months of her life to the term “sappy shit.” “I happened to like that so-called sappy shit on our last album. And so did our fans.”

Chance threw a stick into the pond and Dolly chased after it, churning through the water vigorously. She created enough of a splash that it kicked back onto Jolene. She wiped her cheek of pond water.

“I’m not saying our first album wasn’t good. We wrote some great songs. I’m just saying I don’t want to fake it,” he said. “I want to write what I really feel.”

That hurt. In fact, it more than hurt. It was like the time when she had fallen out of a tree as a kid and had the wind knocked out of her. She had lain on her back, stunned, while Elle and Shane had stared down at her, looking fairly alarmed. Her sister had asked her if she was dead, which maybe she had looked like a fresh corpse, what with her eyes glassy and her breathing at a momentary stand-still. For a second she had wondered if she actually was dead, because she couldn’t seem to fill her lungs. There was no air.

That’s how she felt now.

And what really busted her hump was that she had thought that after four months of being apart, Chance didn’t have the ability to make her feel this way anymore. That his ability to hurt her had expired. But it hadn’t. His comment stung, as had the realization when they had broken up that despite similarities like both being unable to stay in a tree as a child, they were very different people, who had some serious communication issues. And that made her all kinds of pissed off.

So she said something that would hurt Chance. Or at least get him mad. She knew she shouldn’t, but it flew right out of her mouth before she could put the brakes on. “You’re right. No one likes to fake things. For example, I didn’t like faking all those orgasms. But sometimes we have to do what we have to do. It’s called being a grownup.”

Which was the exact opposite of what she was being right now.

He sucked in a breath. “Bullshit. You did not fake all those orgasms.”

“How do you know?” She hadn’t. Not a single one. But let the egomaniac sweat it. “You can’t prove it.”

“Don’t start with me, Jolene.” His expression was fierce, angry.

God almighty, how she hated that phrase from him. Why was it always her starting it? It wasn’t. But every damn motherfucking time he blamed her. Only now, she didn’t have to put up with it.

“I’m not starting anything! I’m trying to put forth a concept for our album and as usual you’re just steamrolling me.” Her daddy had been a steamroller and she knew without a doubt, it was a hot button issue for her. But that didn’t make her wrong. He shouldn’t get to fail the art of compromise every single time.

“Because I think my idea makes more sense,”