The Lucky in Love Collection - Lauren Blakely Page 0,2

I was literally thinking about other uses for this blanket before you showed up. I know we haven’t had sex outdoors, but we should try new things in the bedroom and out of the bedroom.” I take a deep breath and go for it. “After all, I love you and I want you to move in with me. Isn’t that where we are headed?”

Not exactly how I planned to ask him, but clearly I have to launch the parachute quickly and try to save our plane from tumbling out of the sky.

He smiles even more sympathetically, quite possibly full of abject pity for me. This isn’t going to end how I want it to at all. I am the biggest fool in the land.

“Look at you. So good to me up until the end. That’s why it took me so long to say this. Because you treat me like a king, and you’re so damn sweet. It almost makes me want to stay.” He sighs. “But you’re too vanilla.” He pats my head like I’m a pet, and evidently I’m the Maltese he’s not taking home from the pound instead of the chocolate lab he really wants.

I jerk my head away from him. “Don’t pat me like a dog.”

“I was just trying to be nice.”

“Oh, don’t even use that word with me right now. ‘Nice,’” I hiss, even as tears threaten my throat, clogging my voice.

He ignores me, gesturing to the picnic spread. “Food looks good. Can I grab some cheese and crackers before I go? I do love Gouda.”

Shock slams into me, radiating to every pore. I can’t even speak or scream—no, you can’t have the Gouda, you jackass—because I’m so floored by his callous request.

The hungry jerk takes my silence as a yes and helps himself, bending to grab a few slices of cheese from the basket and a couple of crackers. My eyes burn with tears, and I want to smack his impromptu snack out of his hand, but I can’t because my blood has turned sluggish.

David turns to go, and I’m in quicksand, unable to move or speak. As his footsteps fade, something new replaces the shock.

Anger.

He took my cheese.

He took my freaking Gouda cheese.

“You don’t deserve cheese. You don’t deserve chocolate. You don’t deserve vanilla,” I shout between sobs, then grab the bottle of wine, open it, and guzzle a needy gulp.

A crunch of leaves sounds from the trail, and my heart speeds into overdrive.

He’s returned. He realized his mistake. He’s going to ask me to stay with him. I fasten on a smile, swipe my cheeks, and prepare to let him grovel.

First, he’ll apologize for taking my Gouda.

Second, he’ll take back that stupid vanilla comment.

Third, he’ll say he’s sorry he never piped up before about all these naughty bones that need tending to.

Then, and only then, will I let him enjoy the picnic of me.

I peer down the path, searching for my man.

But he’s still gone, and I’m still alone, dumped at a picnic lunch, when I planned to ask him to move in with me. My only company is a bird, an industrious robin, scouring the trail.

Why should he suffer because I’ve been ditched? I toss him a cracker and he pecks at it.

“Have a snack,” I mutter.

Another robin swoops down, joining his buddy on the dirt to enjoy the unexpected snack I’d planned to share with David.

The bastard.

How does he know I’m too sweet? He never asked me to be naughty. I wouldn’t mind trying. But he didn’t say a word about what he wanted. Am I supposed to be a mind reader? I don’t think so.

“You could have asked,” I mumble.

But I’m not in the mood to mumble. I’m in the mood to shout and stomp and throw. I don’t give a damn if this is childish. It’s cathartic, and right now I need to let go. I spin around, grab more cheese slices, and fling them in David’s direction, even though he’s probably miles away now.

“Take that.” I catapult one through the air.

“Here’s another.” I launch a cracker, then a slice of cheese.

More. I need more. This feels good. This feels so damn good. I bend to grab another hunk of cheese, then spin around and slingshot my arm to send it down the trail. Like a gunslinger, I fire, sending the dairy flying.

Only it doesn’t land on the trail.

The Gouda lands square in the middle of a chest.

A man’s chest.

Oops.

I cringe, lifting my gaze. I’m greeted by the sight