Page 43 of Curvy Cabin Fever

“I think we need to talk,” Aria says quickly, blowing out a nervous breath after her words leave her plump lips.

I stare at her before glancing around at the icy driveway. I dig the shovel into a heap of snow I’ve created and nod.“I guess we do.”

Her eyes narrow like she’s waiting for me to say something, the curl of her lips showing her disappointment in me.

But I have to say it.

Now.

“I owe you an apology,” I say, refusing to meet her eyes. I rake a hand through my hair, wishing I had worn a hat. It’s still freezing.

“You do,” Aria agrees, crossing her arms over her chest.

I stare at her as she raises her eyebrows expectantly.

Oh.

“I’m sorry,” I grit out, hating how difficult it is to apologize to this woman. “You didn’t deserve that.”

“Thank you,” Aria replies quietly, still watching me like I’m going to grab the shovel and hit her with it. “I need to ask you something.”

Here we go.

I can’t imagine what it is, but already I’m sweating. I scratch my head and glance around, trying to calm the erratic beat of my heart. Why does she affect me so much? This is insanity. I’m a CEO, for fuck’s sake. I can talk to hundreds of people in a room with authority, yet I’m a puddle of piss in front of this curvy goddess?

Jesus, Rhett, pull it together.

“Why do you hate me so much?” Aria inquires suddenly, and my breath leaves my body in a whoosh of surprise.

My head shakesnoof its own accord. “I don’t…” I laugh awkwardly, but she remains stoic, gazing at me while I bluster like an awkward teenager. But she thinks I hate her, and I shouldn’t be surprised after my little attack on her.

God, I was such a cunt.

“I don’t hate you; I’m sorry I made you feel like that,” I state softly, meaning every word. “I don’t know you to hate you or to judge you. So again, I apologize for my nasty comments. I was a little out of sorts, not that it’s an excuse.”

I heave out a sigh and meet her eyes.

She isn’t buying it.

Aria tilts her head, her brows pulling together. “You keep saying that, but you still haven’t explained why you act like you hate me, Rhett.”

Fuck.

I exhale sharply, reaching for the shovel and gripping it like a lifeline. “What do you want me to say, Aria?”

She lets out a humorless laugh, shaking her head. “I want the truth. Because I don’t think you were just ‘out of sorts.’ You don’t look at Morgan or Damien like that. Just me.”

I stiffen.

Is it that obvious?

Aria sighs, rubbing a hand over her face like she’s tired of dealing with my shit. “If you don’t hate me, then what is it? Because you’re the only one making this complicated.”

I fucking hate that she’s right.

I glance back toward the road. The path is clearing, but it’s still a fucking mess. I don’t know how to answer her, not without exposing things I’m not ready to face and saying something I can’t take back.

So, I do what I do best—I deflect.