Love Bug (The Prescotts Book 3), Tara Wyatt [best mobile ebook reader .txt] 📗

She blew out a breath, tension and frustration knotting together inside her. “Wonderful.”

“Are you claustrophobic?” he asked, and her gaze snapped to his at the concern in his tone. She always felt so off-kilter with him, never knowing when he was going to be a surly asshole or when he was going to pretend that he cared about her.

“No, it’s fine. I just have a meeting I’m going to miss, apparently.” She sighed heavily and pulled her phone out of her laptop bag, firing off a quick text message to Chris to let him know what was going on.

“Me too,” he said, pulling his phone from his pocket, his thumbs flying across the screen. He shifted and the scent of his aftershave hit her, making butterflies explode in her stomach. God, that scent. She’d never get enough of it.

Last week, she’d been walking through Saks, waiting for Brandon to clock out so they could go grab dinner, and she’d caught a whiff of the familiar scent of Max’s aftershave. She’d found the one he used, following her nose through the fragrance department, and she’d even sprayed some on her skin, imaging that it was there because of him. How pathetic was that? And it hadn’t smelled the same on her. It was as though Max’s skin added some secret ingredient that took it from sexy to mouthwatering.

God, this sucked. Not only because it was beyond awkward and shitty being stuck in an elevator with the man who’d rejected her multiple times, but because being close to him again shattered all of her illusions that she’d started to move on from him. It had been easier to delude herself into thinking she was getting over him when she studiously avoided him. But the second she was near him, the second she laid eyes on him, it all went out the window. She was back to square one, her pulse racing, her stomach dipping and swirling, her skin feeling tight and oversensitive.

She didn’t want to respond this way to him anymore. She wanted to take a knife and cut out the part of him that had burrowed inside her heart, no matter the carnage. She’d take messy and painful but finite over this endless wanting. This unceasing need to not only be around him, with him, but to care for him.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you,” he said, leaning a shoulder against the opposing wall, his ankles crossed, his hands in his pockets. The pose pushed his open suit jacket back, revealing his flat stomach and muscled chest. The memory of the taste of his skin flooded her and she swallowed, shifting on the spot.

“About? We’re very close on the BingeStack prototype, not sure if you saw that update.” She steered the conversation into safe territory because she didn’t trust herself to talk about anything more personal with him. She wanted him out of her system, and she knew how easily she’d get pulled back in.

“About my behavior last week.” He looked at her, meeting her gaze, holding her in place with his intense blue eyes. “I’m sorry. I never should’ve spoken to you that way. You were right to call me an asshole, because that’s exactly what I was being.”

Her pulse picked up a little, making her feel warm.

Summoning every ounce of strength she had, she forced a small smile to her lips, looking away, staring unfocused at the numbered buttons in front of her. “Let’s just forget about it,” she said, shaking her head.

“Willa, I—”

She whirled to face him. “Please don’t, Max. Just don’t, okay?” Her voice shook on the last syllable and she cleared her throat, trying to push down the emotion rising up inside her. The sense of loss, the frustration, the anger and disappointment. Squishing all of it down because stuck in an elevator with the man responsible for it all wasn’t the time and place to unpack it.

He didn’t say anything, just nodded slowly and then returned his attention to his phone. She wasn’t sure if she was relieved or disappointed that he didn’t pursue it further. Maybe he’d only apologized out of a sense of obligation, or because of the awkwardness of being stuck together. She didn’t know. She didn’t know what to think or how to feel or how to act around him. It was exhausting.

Looking for a distraction, for some sympathy, for anything at all, really, she opened the Blind Date app on her phone. Her communication meter with Mr. 23 was almost as full as it could go, a bright red heart appearing beside his name. She’d messaged a couple of her other matches, mostly just for beta testing purposes, but none of them held a candle to Mr. 23.

FreshPrincessOfChelsea: You won’t believe where I am right now.

Max’s phone buzzed, a pang of jealousy hitting her when he smiled at the screen. He was clearly happy to hear from whoever had messaged him.

BetaTestAccount23: Where?

FreshPrincessOfChelsea: I’m stuck in an elevator with the guy I told you about.

Max’s phone buzzed again, and this time he frowned at the screen.

BetaTestAccount23: That has to be the world’s biggest coincidence because I am currently stuck in an elevator with the woman I told you about. The one I’m hung up on.

When Willa’s phone chimed softly, Max’s head turned slowly in her direction, his features tight. She squinted at her phone as a creeping suspicion started to take hold. Holy shit, was Max Mr. 23? She couldn’t decide if she wanted that to be true or not. Couldn’t decide if that would be the absolute best or absolute worst possible outcome.

She flicked her gaze between him and her phone, then typed another message, her breath coming in quick, sharp bursts.

FreshPrincessOfChelsea: The world can be a really small place sometimes…

Max’s phone buzzed almost instantly, and for once she was able to read the open emotion on his face. There was anguish there, but hope, too. And need. So much need. It was all