Tripp shook his head a little more violently than was necessary.
He blew out a heavy breath and turned his scowl toward the window. Under no circumstances was he going to let his guarddown. Not even if he thought it would be in their best interests to revisit the idea of a truce.
Wendy was infuriating. She stepped over the lines of common courtesy more and more at each meeting they had and he refused to believe she didn’t have a reason in her own messed up sort of way.
One thing was for certain; he’d figure her out whether she wanted him to or not.
“What is your problem?” he growled.
“Myproblem?” Her voice went up an octave from its usually low, sweet, cadence. “My problem.” This time she said it flatly and her jaw tightened further. “That’s rich, coming from a guy like you.”
“A guy like me? What’s that supposed to mean?” He could hear his own fury seeping into every syllable of his demand. “You realize your prejudice against me doesn’t exactly work if I don’t know what it is I’ve done to make you hate me. You can’t just hold a grudge like that.”
Wendy scoffed. “Watch me.”
He tightened the hand resting on his leg into a tight fist. “Wendy,” he warned.
She stilled as if the way he ground out her name did something to her. Was he scaring her? Or was her reaction one of those so deliciously wrong it almost felt right? Did that mean he could get to her if he only tried enough?
Tripp turned his face toward her, his eyes narrowing. “What did I do?” he murmured so quiet, he wasn’t sure she could hear him above the old engine of her Ford. “Maybe I can make it right.”
That momentary stillness disappeared like morning mist that hovered over the mountain ponds the moment the sun came out. Her brows lowered and she let out a sardonic laugh. “It’s too late for that.” She shifted in her seat, not meeting his eyes. “But you know what? You could probably figure it out if you thought about it hard enough. So do that. Think really long and hard about the way you’ve led your life and if you get to the point where you’ve maybe figured it out, think some more.” Her now chipper voice sounded hollow and fake. “Because we both know you’resosmart.”
He wanted to throw his hands into the air and demand she pull over so they could hash this out once and for all, but he saw little evidence of that working. “You know what? Fine. If you want to let this little secret fester inside you and poison you to the point that it makes you sick, be my guest.”
Her surprised gaze found his just as she pulled into the parking lot of the tow yard. Her lips parted and all he could think wasgood. He’d taken her by surprise by his statement. She must realize that he had a good point. It didn’t help his own temper, though.
All this back and forth was messing with him in unbearable ways. Like a relentless mosquito always buzzing and nipping but never getting its fill. Or like when someone dragged their hand across commercial carpet back and forth making that noise that had him shuddering.
Tripp’s scowl deepened, his palm resting on the door handle. He didn’t know why he hesitated. Maybe he expected her to tell him to stop, to stay put so they could hash out all the bad feelings and start fresh.
But expecting that to happen was like expecting Leo to suddenly no longer be scared of the chickens at Sagebrush. Just like Leo, Wendy was set in her ways.
He shoved the door open, climbed out, and slammed it shut behind him. Inwardly, he flinched. He knew better than to slam a car door—especially one of such a run-down vehicle. His temper had never been an issue before. Maybe it was for the best that they each chose to keep their distance.
Only, how was he supposed to do that when they were practically assigned to each other for the wedding?
Tripp dragged a hand down his face and stomped toward the small relocatable that was situated out front of a fenced-in lot. His truck was already behind that gate. With the vase in hand, he trudged inside and tried not to think about Wendy or the things she’d said.
You could probably figure it out if you thought about it hard enough.
What did that even mean? He’d never met Wendy before that barbeque. That in and of itself was strange seeing as the town wasn’t exactly large. At some point he would have had to bump into her, right?
Maybe that was the problem.
Maybe he’d met her before and done something really stupid.
Tripp shot down that idea the second it arose in his head. He would have never forgotten a woman like Wendy. He’d noticed her the second she arrived at that barbeque. and he’d been thrilled to find out that she was the one he’d be spending most of his time with.
Oh, how wrong he’d been.
Tripp managed to get his truck released without having to pay a fee—more evidence that Wendy had been sinister just to get to him.
The whole drive home, his whole body seemed to simmer with heat. The leather casing of the steering wheel creaked beneath his tight hold. This was all Reese and Serenity’s fault. Yeah, they were the ones who dragged him into this mess. He wasn’t the wedding party type. He hadn’t wanted to be part of the charade in the first place. Why did he agree to do it? That day seemed so long ago.
He'd been blissfully unaware that someone as vindictive as Wendy even existed. He was torturing himself by agreeing to everything. They’d both be happier if he’d just step down, right?
By the time Tripp made it home, he’d all but convinced himself that was exactly what needed to be done. Clearly, Wendy had no intention of keeping her nose clean. And for reasons beyond his understanding, he couldn’t stay away from her either.
