A Sweet Life-kindle

by Andre, Bella

  And then the one text to ruin them all: Deal. If you can get her to fall for you, not only will I back off with Ashlyn, I’ll move departments. You have 5 days. If you lose, well, you’ve been losing this whole time. It won’t be any different for you.

  I quickly checked his outbox, please tell me this is all some huge joke, and he is talking about someone else. The text to Bobby from Preston reads: It’s done. Now leave my wife alone.

  I felt numb as I walk back toward the hot tub.

  “Wow, seriously, Amanda, did you make the ice cream?” Preston asks as I sit on a nearby chair.

  “Here,” I say my voice thick with emotion as I hand him his phone.

  He takes it from my hands and looks down at all the missed messages.

  I had left my favorite one open for him to read.

  “Amanda!” he says as he quickly gets out of the water, but I am already running back to the room. You better believe I’m taking the ice cream with me.

  I slam my bedroom door in Preston’s face as I lean against it and dig into the soggy ice cream.

  “Amanda, seriously, it’s not what you think. Actually I don’t even know what you’re thinking right now. Just talk to me!”

  “NO!” I yell, my mouth full of ice cream.

  I hear Preston get on the phone, hoping he’s calling the airline so he will leave my presence.

  I mean, come on, playing me just to prove to my ex-boyfriend that he could get me, and all so he could get his wife back? Who does that? How childish is it to make a bet that you can get a girl to date you or agree to marry you… and why do I have to be that girl?

  “Just talk some sense into her!” I hear him yell, and then everything goes quiet. “Man, I am so sorry. Okay yeah, we’ll be waiting.”

  “Amanda,” he calls me again. “It’s Brad and Kristin. Their parents got in a car accident. The kids were with them. Everyone is okay, but they need to fly back tonight.”

  “I’m going,” I say as tears stream down my face. I still haven’t gotten up enough nerve to open the door.

  “You can’t”

  “Why?” I ask angrily.

  “Because there are only two seats left on the plane. We can't leave for two more days. They, however, are getting out tonight.” His voice sounds raspy as if he is just as upset as I am. But what does he have to be upset about?

  I hear a knock on the main door and bolt out of my room and into Kristin’s arms. She thinks I am crying because of the accident, when actually my tears are selfishly more for myself. But I can’t tell her that now, not when her whole family is in the hospital, even if they are okay.

  “We just wanted to drop by and say we love you guys,” Kristin says, her eyes watery. “We’ll see you back in Melba, okay?”

  I nod my head and tell her I will be praying for her, while the boys talk about the condition of the kids. Everyone seems to be doing okay, just a little shaken. Apparently, the roads had black ice. They were lucky the car didn’t roll.

  I say goodbye then tearfully lay on the couch with my ice cream.

  “Give me that,” Preston says, trying to pry it away from my cold hands.

  “Mine,” I say, using my death grip on the box.

  “Easy.” He backs away. He grabs his phone and throws it against the fluffy chair before sitting down in a huff. “Can you at least let me explain?”

  “Explain what?” I say, mouth full of ice cream. “That you made a bet that I would marry you in five days, and if you won, that you would be free to pursue your ex-wife again in the comfort of your own firehouse without having Bobby breathing down your neck? He is the best friend, isn’t he?”

  Preston doesn’t say anything, and for some reason I can’t help myself.

  “Furthermore, I think it’s totally offensive that you would assume I am that easy of a girl to get. I mean, seriously. I only said yes to you because you kept asking. And so, what if I think about wearing a pretty wedding dress sometimes when I look at you? I mean, that’s completely normal!”

  And even though that little red warning light is flashing in my head, I continue to speak. “I mean, yeah, you’re attractive and funny and sexy. You’re probably too normal for me. But honestly, if you have to use a bet to get your ex-wife to pay attention to you again, I feel sorry for you. SORRY FOR YOU!” I yell the last words even though my voice is already loud. “She’s an idiot if she thinks that Bobby is better than you — an absolute idiot — and if she was here I’d… I don’t know… punch her in the face!”

  Preston is now smiling so big that I think his face is going to explode, which just fans my flame hotter.

  “And you know what? I don’t care that you want to build me a castle, and that you’re the only guy I’ve ever told that story to. It doesn’t matter. Because when I get home, I am cutting you out of my life. I am never falling for an attractive man again. They can’t be trusted. They’re too slippery, they are.” Another tear escapes my face as I get up off the couch and point my finger at him. “Guess you win.”

  I run into my room and lock the door. I’ve never been one to cry myself to sleep, but tonight I can’t seem to help it. Because if I am being totally honest with myself, I have to admit I like him, a lot. I could possibly love the guy.

  And he feels nothing in return.

  ***

  I wake up the following morning with yet another headache — seems to be some sort of trend when I hang around Preston. I open my bedroom door to see fresh eggs, bacon, and sausage on a plate. I look up to meet Preston’s face and notice he has something in his hands.

  “What’s that?” I ask, annoyed.

  “A stuffed pig,” he answers nonchalantly, as if it’s totally normal for grown men to carry around stuffed farm creatures.

  “Cute,” I say, grabbing the plate and wandering outside to the patio.

  Again the day is humid. It makes my head hurt even more. I take a bite of the eggs and feel Preston’s presence behind me. I turn to look at him, not even caring how ugly I must look with my eyes all puffy and swollen, and notice the pig he is carrying has paper wings glued onto it.

  “Clever,” I say, pointing to the pig.

  “I thought so,” he says, handing me two aspirin and a coffee.

  I hate him for knowing me so well. It makes everything that much harder. Why are all the perfect men total jerks? I want to yell at the injustice of it all. I look down and see Mrs. Butterworth is dressed up too. Only she is in what I can only describe as a cat bikini.

  “What have you done to Mrs. Butterworth?” I gasp, picking her up from the ground. It is a teeny-weenie-yellow-polka-dot bikini, and she looks anything but pleased.

  Preston shrugs. “I thought it would make you laugh.”

  I have to admit, it’s actually priceless. Not that I am ready to be on speaking terms with him, even though I guess, technically, I’m speaking… but I am asking questions, so it’s totally different.

  “So, we’re leaving tomorrow?” I ask coldly.

  “Nope. I changed our plane tickets. We are here through the weekend.”

  I could kill him right now. I seriously want to throw my cat at him. Forget everything I’ve said.

  “WHAT?” I feel panic rise up in my chest. “But Kristin and Brad and the kids…” My voice trails off.

  “I talked with them this morning," he says. “Everything’s fine. Plus, we might as well enjoy our vacation together, wife.”

  I look at him with disgust in my eyes. “I am not your wife.”

  “Actually,” he says, pulling out a piece of paper I have never seen before. “It says here you will be in about three days.”

  I look at the piece of paper and shrug. I hate that he’s cute enough to actually draw something up that says marriage license full on with hearts and what looks like a paw print from Mrs. Butterworth. “You have no witnesses, and I’ll say no even if it is a special license. And I still want to poke your eyes out with my fork. Are we done here?” I get up, but he catches my wrist.
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  “Do you ever stop talking enough to let people explain things to you? Or do you just assume you know everything?” he says rather hotly.

  “I don’t assume. I KNOW. Plus, words don’t lie,” I say, jerking my hand away.

  “No they don’t, Amanda. No they don’t,” he says as he walks outside.

  I throw my dishes into the sink and scowl when I notice I chipped one. Well, at least I can blame my rage on Preston. Of all the egotistical things… I want to jam my sausage up his nose, but at this point, I would have to get too close to him to pull it off. And I’m not quite sure I can control myself just yet in his presence.

  I lean around the corner to see what he is doing. He is on his phone. Again. It’s like he is rubbing it in my face. And now he’s laughing? I see his smile deepen as he chuckles then looks at his watch. Okay, wait. Now he is writing something down. I lean a little bit further over then accidently knock one of the Hawaiian pots off the table, shattering it on the floor.

  I look up guiltily to see Preston staring at me with knowing eyes as if to say, I know you’re spying on me, and I think it’s hilarious.

  I can’t be blamed for what I do next. I grab my shoe off the floor and fling it at his face. He ducks just in time for it to hit an old man walking toward the pool.

  “Domestic dispute,” he huffs as he walks by, not even picking up my shoe.

  “Is that all, Amanda, or do you want to throw the other shoe too? It’s okay. This time I won’t move. You can hit me straight in the face. Although, later tonight you’re going to be begging me to kiss you, so it’s your move.”

  You can guess what I did next.

  The rubber part of the sole hit him straight in the eye, causing a purplish bruise to appear by lunch time, and okay, I know he said he wouldn’t move, but how was I to know he was actually being serious? I mean, come on! WHO DOESN’T MOVE when flying objects come at your head?

  His constant rubbing of his eye doesn't make me feel any better either, but I’m pretty sure he is just doing it to make me feel bad, which I won’t.

  Because he is a cheating bastard. And Grandma Ned is rolling in her grave as I just thought that. I am sure she is begging God to let her come back down, just so she can be the one to put soap in my mouth. I feel guilty enough for thinking it. OKAY, GRANDMA NED! Oh my gosh. I’m yelling in my head at my dead grandma. I have issues.

  “Amanda?” Preston asks as I glare at him through my sunglasses. I know, how brave of me.

  “Yes?”

  “Can you hand me that icepack again? My head is throbbing.”

  He points to the ice pack, and I throw it at him again. He winces as he catches it and ducks at the same time. Poor guy’s never going to be the same after meeting me. At least he will have the bruises on the outside and the scars on the inside to remember me by.

  “Shouldn’t you be on the phone with Ashlyn?” I ask, peeved.

  “That would be weird,” he answers vaguely.

  “Why, because she doesn’t know you’re in Hawaii?” I look at him, and he just gives me this blank stare. “You cheater! She doesn’t even know where you are? How could you leave her in Bobby’s womanizing clutches? If he stole her from you in the first place and is threatening to do it again right now, you better be wooing her. Although, if we’re just being honest with each other — and I think we can be, considering I want to kill you right now — you aren’t so good at the wooing,” I say seriously.

  Wow. It’s so easy not to worry about his hotness when I’m only thinking of doing violent things to him. It’s not like I am ever going to see him again after these next two days.

  “And honestly,” I begin again, taking off my sunglasses, “if I were her, I would be so mad at you, it would be hard for me to take you back. Plus, who makes bets anymore? That’s so high-school-melodramatic-teen-soap-opera…-ish.” I end my lament with a shoulder shrug.

  “Your talking is giving me a headache,” he replies, putting his icepack over his swollen eye.

  “Maybe you should duck next time, or maybe you should be honest, or maybe not cheat… Need I go on?” I drone sarcastically, turning away from him.

  Preston begins to laugh and — I shoot him a stop laughing, or I will kill you glare — then retreats back into his chair.

  At least we are getting good tans today.

  “You know what?” I say again. Okay, I know I should stop talking, but let’s be hones. I’m kind of on a roll. “I’m not even attracted to you anymore, and you know why?”

  “Oh, I’m sure you’ll tell me,” he says sarcastically.

  I give him an icy glare.

  “Sorry. Yes, Amanda. Please. I want to know. I’m dying to know.” He begs with more enthusiasm this time.

  “Because,” I say, “you’re just like everyone else. I can’t believe I fell for the witty banter and tan abs. I mean, I should have noticed just by the way you dress you have nothing going on in the heart department. But no, I wasn’t smart. I even told myself not to be drawn like a moth to the flame, but what do I do? I just fall anyway. I fall into the Mr. December trap just like everyone else. I can’t believe I bought a calendar.” And then I stop talking, hoping that in my ranting and raving he has not caught the last part. Except by the look on his face, I can tell that he very much has.

  “The calendar, huh?” He raises an eyebrow in judgment. “Well, well. My how the tables have turned. You bought a calendar, did you?” he says, leaning in toward my face.

  “It was for charity,” I say.

  “For your own personal charity,” he snaps back.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I yell.

  “It wasn’t for charity, Amanda. Admit it.”

  “No.”

  “Amanda?” His voice is now low, making me dizzy.

  I hate it when he gets this close to me; it makes it hard for me to think straight. “I will not admit anything to you. I am a grown woman, free to do as I please. Call Ashlyn and leave me alone.”

  “FINE,” he says tightly. He pulls out his phone. “Put Ashlyn on. Don’t ask questions, just do it.”

  There's a long pause, then Preston talks in the most patronizing voice I have ever heard. “Hey, baby! How are you doing, little thing? Did you miss your daddy this week? Did you? Oh, that’s a good girl, yeah!”

  I think I’m going to be sick. I’m staring at him wide-eyed, like he has just swallowed a child whole. Is he really talking to his ex-wife like that? No wonder she left him. Wow, no question about it. His elevator does not go all the way up if he thinks that’s the way to a woman’s heart.

  “Did you go out and play today?” he asks in the same high-pitched voice. “Oh fun! Is Uncle Bobby being good to you?”

  I look at him and pale. HE LEFT HER WITH BOBBY?!?! WHAT IS WRONG WITH HIM? I snatch the phone from him and hear nothing but panting on the other end. “Gross!” I yell and throw his phone back at his chest.

  “Thanks, B.J. I’ll have to get back to you. My wife is acting crazy right now.” I shake my head in disgust.

  “First off, I think you’re the crazy one, talking to your wife like that. I mean, she’s not a dog, for crying out loud! And second, have you lost your mind? You can’t leave your wife with Bobby! And you can’t put her down in front of him! Do you know nothing?”

  I am beyond my realm of control, so the last words come out more like a scream. I mean, seriously. Are all men this stupid?

  “Wow, you sure sound like you know what you’re talking about,” he says, folding his arms.

  “I want to cut off your arms and beat you with them,” I say a little too enthusiastically.

  He throws a glare my way.

  “So what’s the plan for the rest of the day?” I ask, feeling suddenly ravenous. I've worked up quite an appetite.

  Preston stands and folds his towel. “I was planning on grabbing some lunch, but I don’t know if I am good enough company for you, what with my lack of brain cells and relationship know-how.” He shoots me a grin. />
  I roll my eyes in protest. “Fine. Where to?” I ask, gathering my things.

  “Hard Rock Café,” he states without looking back.

  “But…” I look around, feeling suddenly whiny. “Isn’t that all the way back toward the airport?”

  “I’ll buy you a peppermint mocha,” he coaxes, turning around to face me.

  “Deal.”

  “You’re too easy,” he replies.

  “That’s my problem,” I say, wistfully watching as he puts on his t-shirt and leads the way.

  Chapter Eighteen

  I shower as quickly as possible then put on a cute sundress before presenting myself to the world. Or in this case, to Mrs. Butterworth. It is depressing when you have nobody to show off to or to lust after. Well, not really lust. I guess in Preston’s case, it was extreme, like maybe even possibly love, but that’s over with. I need to move on.

  Mrs. Butterworth, still in her cat bikini, offers a quiet meow before I exit my room to look for Preston. He has on torn jeans and a white t-shirt. It makes my mouth water, but then again, I’m hungry. Yes, that must be it. I’m hungry. Ha ha. I laugh nervously to myself, and he leads me out. I mean, how terrible of a person must I be to be looking at Preston like he’s still available? He used me to get his ex-wife back; although, he never did admit it, now that I think about it. He hasn’t admitted to anything. I must remind myself to stop talking from time to time. Maybe he has some light to shed on the situation.

  “So, I hope you don’t mind,” he says, interrupting my thoughts. “But I need to pick someone up from the airport tonight.” He grabs my hand, and I try to pull away, but I’m helpless against his strength. He opens the door to the rental car and smiles as I scowl at him then enter.

  “You’re in a chipper mood tonight, aren’t you?” he comments as he pulls out of the parking lot.

  “I’m sorry. Were you talking to me? It was hard to tell, considering you didn’t use your special voice reserved for ex-wives and small woodland creatures,” I retort.

  “Have I ever told you how much fun you are? Because, I mean, hands down… best trip of my life.” Preston smiles and leans over to turn off the music blaring in the background. “Are you going to at least let me explain to you, or are you going to just assume you know everything?”