Skinny Bitch in Love Read Online Free PDF

in. Ben’s really looking forward to seeing you.”
    Okay. What the hell was going on? Was she his maid? Personal assistant?
    The chick he dumped me for?
    If Ben had gotten engaged—after only six months—I would have heard about it somewhere, wouldn’t I? I mean, I had told everyone I knew not to mention his name to me again because when I finally found myself able to breathe, to eat, to get upand function, one person mentioned they’d seen him walking his yellow Lab, and I went back to bed for two days. But still.
    “Baby, Clementine’s here,” she called out.
    Oh, hell.
    I held my breath and followed her into the huge cook’s kitchen, and there he was. Ben Fucking Frasier. In jeans. Navy blue T-shirt. Chucks.
    The yellow Lab, Gus, was gnawing on a bone under the round table by the window.
    Fuck. Are they fucking kidding me?
    “Clem, it’s so good to see you again,” Ben said, coming toward me with that gorgeous face, those dark blue eyes, those goddamned pecs. He gave me a quick kiss on the cheek. “This is Laurel, my, um, fiancée.”
    I stared at him, then at her.
    I watched her eye me up and down, then slide her pale brown eyes to Ben. She smiled at him. A sweet smile, then giggled. Giggled. What the—
    “Okay, sweetie, I’m going,” Laurel announced, slinging a huge red handbag over her shoulder. She walked up to him, planted a hand on either cheek, and kissed him as though they were having sex. I heard him murmur something. Saw his hand graze her perfect ass before it sashayed out the door.
    “What the hell is this?” I said.
    Ben leaned against the counter. “It’s everything I said on the phone. I didn’t mention I was engaged because Laurel has nothing to do with the cooking lessons. And it would have been weird to bring it up.” He ran a hand through his hair.
    “So you just thought you’d hire your ex-girlfriend to teach you to cook and make you two weeks’ worth of meals—in the home you share with your fiancée. Right, Ben.”
    “Look, I heard from a few mutual friends that you got fired and that you’re kind of blackballed now. At least five people called to tell me. And then I saw your flyer on a lamppost when I was walking Gus and . . . ”
    “And you felt bad for me.” Jerk.
    “Okay, yeah, I felt bad. I’ve been looking around for a vegan cooking class and couldn’t find anything. Then I saw the flyer. So it all just worked out.”
    Because I knew him so well, I knew that he was just trying to do me a favor. Nothing malicious. Nothing salacious. He broke my heart, felt bad about it, had a moment of “oh, that’s too bad” when he heard about me getting fired, and saw his opportunity to feel better.
    “So let me guess,” I said. “You told your fiancée you wanted to hire me, that you felt bad—about everything—and she said something all faux-concerned like, ‘I don’t have anything to worry about, do I?’ and you said, ‘Come on, of course not. Be here when she arrives and you’ll see I don’t feel anything for Clementine anymore.’ ”
    He sighed and ran a hand through his hair again.
    “Something like that, maybe,” he said. “I’ll always care about you, Clem. And you are the best vegan chef I know, and I want to learn from the best.”
    I looked at him and forced myself to see two thousand four hundred bucks instead of the guy I thought I’d spend the restof my life with. I needed money. And I wasn’t going to be stupid and walk out.
    “I’ll help you unload,” he said, reaching for the cart, and that was that.
    As we put each container away in the freezer, I went over the taped-on instructions for reheating as though he were just anyone. He was standing so close to me—not “I still want you” close, but close enough that I could smell that clean, fresh marine-based soap he used, the one I turned him on to. He was so tall, with such broad shoulders, and for a second I was back in bed with him, my eyes closed as he trailed wet kisses down