Wednesday Read Online Free PDF Page B

arms, actually, as he makes his
way up to the house.
    “Tristan, put me down.” I bat at
his chest.
    “You can’t walk on this until I get
the glass out. We need to clean it too or you’re going to get a nasty
infection.”
    Shit, he’s getting to me again.
    This is so not good.
    Tristan swings the door open and
sets me on the couch and in my head I’m eighteen again and about to have the
most mind-blowing kiss of my life. The place looks exactly the same: one open
area with a kitchen, dining and lounging space, and bathroom.  And I’m sure
there are still two bedrooms upstairs.  A traditional cottage with white
woodwork and distressed wooden floors. Large windows and protective shutters. 
Goose bumps pepper my skin as I remember the last time I was here.
    “So where’s the kid?” Tristan asks
as he fishes around for the first aid kit in the bathroom.
    His tone yanks me back to the
present and the goose bumps disappear. Right, he’s an asshole.
    “Cade.” I draw out the word. “Is
with his grandmother.”
    Tristan comes back with his
supplies and simply nods at my irritated response. Then he gets to work on my
foot.
    “It’s a nasty laceration,” he says.
His voice sends an unwelcome tingle down my spine. This is not the same
Tristan. The sweetness is gone. Oh sure, he’s concerned about my foot – but in
a more aggravated now I have to deal with this shit kind of way.
    And the effect is slightly
pleasurable, which tells me it’s been way too long since a man’s bestowed
attention on me. And mirroring the behavior of a neglected child, or animal, I
accept it willingly because any attention, even negative, is better than
nothing, right?

 
TRISTAN
     
    Aria tenses at my
mention of her son. I’m not sure if I said something wrong or what, but she
flashes me that irritated scowl I am coming to know intimately.
    So I push.
    “Nice to have a break, then,” I say.
    “It wasn’t my idea. Mom insists on
throwing me out of the house on Wednesdays.”
    Well, isn’t that a coincidence.
    “I’m sure the girls will love
that,” I say, remembering Aria’s pack of beach brats she liked to hang out with
in high school. Most of them never left so I’m sure it’ll only be a matter of
time before the old gang is back together.
    “I’m not here on a summer vacation,
Tristan. I’m a mother, making a life for my son. So hanging out with the
girls isn’t too high on the priority list.” She pauses then, looking more
sad than mad. Almost hurt. “Not that they would have me anyway.”
    On the surface, I don’t care. I
have long since learned how to compartmentalize my feelings. Aria is a pain in
the ass and if I make her feel bad, well, so be it. I would take a lesson from
her book, because she’s never troubled herself with thoughts about me or my
feelings.   
    I check the time – it’s now half
past get-the-fuck-out, and though I know I can’t leave her injured like this, I
have to get her out of here so I can breathe again.
    First, I’ll need to air out the
place, because hell if her sweet scent doesn’t cloud my judgment – an intoxicating
mixture of the salty ocean and honey, putting filthy thoughts in my head as I
wonder what other scents her body carries.
    I shake away the enticing thought.   
    The first Aria sighting threw me
off, but I had to tell myself it was the shock and surprise. It was the anger
resurfacing – that was it. Anger. Over the next few hours, I had the chance to
get used to the idea, but it did nothing to settle the turmoil going on inside.
My desire for her is still there after all this time, and that just pisses me
off even more.
    Now, she’s in my house wearing tiny
shorts that show off her long, lean legs; her hair wild, falling out of the
tail she put it in to keep it out of her face while she ran; her gorgeous olive
skin flushed and begging to be touched. My dick twitches at the sight. Jesus. I
have to get ahold of the situation.
    Aria, on the other hand, glares