Page 17 of Baby, It’s Hot Inside

I swat her hand away. “There is no ‘we.’ I’m not getting back with you.”

“I can help you with that little gallery of yours. I’m sure Daddy has some contacts to get you a couple of real artists from New York or San Francisco.”

I shake my head because she just doesn’t get it. I fork my fingers through my hair. “I told you when you came to Paris, we are done. We’re never getting back together.”

She frowns and I half expect her to stomp her foot. She is not used to be denied anything she wants. Why she still wants me is a mystery.

“There are plenty of guys in this town that would be happy to be with you, Chelsea. Go pick one of them.”

Her lip curls. “I want my King back.”

It’s kinda sad that she’s still stuck in high school. I honestly don’t even know what to say.

“Seriously, Brock, what is wrong with you? Ginger Starr?”

“Chelsea, be very careful with what you say. You don’t know anything about her. You are half the woman Ginger is.”

She laughs. “Literally. How does it feel to bang someone so squishy?”

God, she’s a bitch. I step closer to look her straight in the face. I don’t want her to miss what I’m about to say. “I don’t want you.” I know it’s harsh, but I’ve tried kindness with her, and it didn’t sink in. I’m not sure this will either. “I want you to leave. There’s no place for you in my life now. And you’re not welcome in my home if you’re going to speak poorly about Ginger.” I make my way to my front door.

Chelsea glares. “I cannot believe you’d pick that short, fat girl over me.”

“I’d pick her again and again over you.” I open the door and wait for my ex-girlfriend to walk away. I can’t help wondering what I ever saw in her. Hormones and stupidity is all I can come up with as I watch her drive away in her shiny new beamer.

I check the kitchen, then go back over to my bed, looking for a note explaining Ginger’s absence, but I can’t find anything so I send her a text.

Me: Missed you this morning. Will I see you later?

Ginger: I’ll be downtown most of the day helping with the decorating.

Me: I’ll see you there.

Me: Had fun last night.

Ginger:

I’m assuming that means she had a good time, too. I know she came several times, which seemed to surprise her. It was hot as hell and I can’t wait to do it again.

It should probably make me nervous how much I’m craving her right now. It’s not just the sex either. I really enjoy her company. I was such a dick in high school and I’m pissed at myself for the wasted time. We were friends before and now we’ve reconnected. All that lost time I wasted on Chelsea and the dickheads I was friends with. I haven’t contacted any of them since I’ve been back in Texas. That should tell me something right there.

chapter nine

Ginger

I’m up to my elbows untangling lights for the trees on the courthouse square when I hear a familiar voice.

“Hey Ginger,” she says.

I don’t bother glancing up because I have nothing to say to her. “Hi Chelsea.” But I keep on with my untangling.

She leans on the railing of the gazebo where I’m set up with my task so I’m not sitting in the direct sunlight. I glance up at her briefly. She looks like she always does. Polished and perfect from head to toe. She’s tall and thin with shiny blonde hair—straight, of course—and crystal blue eyes. She’s a classic beauty, though I know from experience that it’s only skin deep with her.

“What do you need?” I ask her.

She chuckles. “I don’t need anything. Evidently you need a reminder of who Brock belongs to.”

My heart stutters and my stomach clenches. “I beg your pardon?”