Page 76 of Flirting with 40

And then she walks out.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Slade

My legs burn and my muscles are definitely feeling last night’s alcohol and possibly the killer sex I had as I jog the last quarter mile back to the cabin.

Mission accomplished.

Get a run in. Scope out the best fishing locations for the “competition” we’re supposedly having today. Get back in time to see just how well Blakely kicked Heather’s ass.

Thank god. It’s all I can think as the cabin comes into view through the thick of the trees.

This is what I came here for. The outdoors, some clean air in my lungs, and a little distance from everything. A distraction to pass the time while I wait for the call to reinstate me.

And it can come any fucking time.

The one thing I didn’t see coming was Blakely becoming part of that expected reprieve.

Out of breath and feeling that much better for it, I jog up the steps and am surprised when I find Blakely back already from her morning meetings.

“Hey . . .” I say, but my words fade the minute she turns her back to me and shoves away what I can only assume are tears because I can’t see them. “What’s going on, Blake?” I ask, my voice softening as a million fucking things that bitch Heather could have said or done run through my mind.

“I’m fine. It’s nothing.” Her voice is muffled as she rummages through her suitcase aimlessly to avoid me.

“You crying in our cabin isn’t nothing.”

“You just—you don’t understand.”

“Look at me,” I say. It takes her a second, but when she does, it guts me. Her eyes are rimmed in red, and even worse, the spark is gone. “Why do you put up with her?” I ask without knowing an iota of what happened. All I do know is this is the second time in as many days that Heather has put tears in those emerald-green eyes, and I’m sick of it. “Because the no-nonsense woman who I first met in that bar, the one who had me laughing and then wanting? The one who had me plotting and planning on a napkin after pretending to be something we weren’t? The one who was laughing so hard she couldn’t stop yesterday when we were, god forbid, breaking all the yoga rules . . . that no-nonsense woman would tell her boss to go to hell.”

She shakes her head. “That woman isn’t me.” The laugh that falls from her lips is loaded with doubt. “She’s a fake who is trying to prove her worth and is doing it miserably.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. That is you. You’re refusing to see it.”

“Says who?” she demands.

“Says me.”

“You don’t even know me.” Her words are soft yet biting.

I do believe that Blakely Foxx is angling for a fight, and maybe if I give it to her . . . maybe if I piss her off enough, she’ll turn around and direct that anger where it needs to be focused.

I take a step toward her, my eyes demanding more. “I don’t think you know yourself, Blakely. You keep saying you want to find her, but you keep burying her beneath everything you’re afraid of. Maybe it’s time you stop using the old you as an excuse and let the new you just be.”

Her bottom lip quivers, and I hate the sight of it. “Go to hell, Slade.”

“Is this our first fight?” I ask and chuckle. “Is that what we’re doing? Should we go back toward the main building and do it there so everyone in camp hears us and knows we’re a legitimate couple? It would give you another excuse for why we didn’t work out in the long run. For why it seems you can’t stand up for yourself and just take what you fucking want.”

Your promotion.

Your pride back.

Me.

“What?” she snaps at the low blow.

And it was low, but it was also said to get her attention.