“Don’t bother. I won’t believe a fucking word you say.”
Hot anger blasted out of her anguish, opening her throat with a sudden surge of adrenaline. “Is this how you reacted when your mother left? Did you stand on your almighty principles and condemn her, too? I bet you treated your fiancée the same way.” Jaye clamored out of the hot tub and landed on the deck. “Your self-righteousness is more dangerous than that bear.”
“My self-righteousness is justified.” He pointed a finger in her direction. “You lied. I didn’t.”
“Clearly, I owe you an apology. I’m sorry, Mitch. I didn’t tell you how much money I have.” Not caring that she stood barefoot in cold snow, she spread her arms wide. “Are you happy now? You’ve been looking for an excuse not to trust me, and you finally found it.”
He slapped his hands on the edge of the tub and stood. “Let me guess. You’re walking out in the middle of an argument. Again.”
“Bingo. Enjoy the solitude. Forgive me for not showing you my investment portfolio before our first kiss. Call me crazy, but I don’t like to financially undress until I get to know a guy.” She ripped her towel off the hook, leaving behind a clump of white thread wiggling in the cold air. “You did a great job of convicting me before you ever heard my testimony. If you ever get tired of blowing glass, you should become a prosecutor.”
His hands fisted against the tub’s plastic rim. “While we’re trading advice, let me do you a favor and state the obvious. You believe every man will break your heart because one man did.”
“Three men stepped on my heart, but who’s counting?” First her father, then David, and now Mitch. When would she find a man willing to drop his own agenda for a few moments to listen to her?
She crossed the deck toward the house, stormed inside, and locked herself in her room. Stripping out of her wet bathing suit, she dressed and grabbed her camera, laptop, and purse. Her clothes could wait until tomorrow…but she couldn’t wait another second to leave Mitch.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The next evening, Jaye placed Mitch’s house key on the kitchen table and took one last longing look out the window. The setting sun draped a purple light across his back yard, scattering the carpet of snow with violet diamonds. Enchanting. She stared hard to burn the image into the back of her mind.
Mitch opened the back door and strode into the kitchen. His blue eyes narrowed at the suitcase parked in the center of the floor. His gaze met hers for the first time since their argument last night.
Goodbye rattled inside her chest and sunk to the pit of her knotted stomach. “I found a hotel room.”
Turning, he hung his coat on the hook near the door. “Where?”
“Coudersport.” She pushed his house key across the table. “This is yours.”
He curled his hands over the back of a kitchen chair. The muscles in his forearms flexed.
Anxious to get out before another argument started, Jaye pulled her suitcase toward the back door.
“You owe me dinner. You were supposed to cook for me tonight.”
“What?” She looked over her shoulder with a brittle frown. After what he’d said last night, did he really think she’d stick around for another meal?
“In exchange for living here rent free, you agreed to cook for me three nights a week. A decent dinner should cover your rent for the weekend.”
“Are you serious?”
“As a heart attack.”
“Fine.” She left her suitcase by the door and strode to the pantry. By the time Mitch pulled off his boots and set them in the corner, she slathered two pieces of bread with peanut butter and jelly, slapped the sandwich on a plate, and slid the meal onto the kitchen table. “Bon appetit.”
Mitch glowered at the meager offering. “I said a decent meal.”
“Sorry.” She plopped an apple next to the sandwich. “Now you’ve got carbs, protein, and fiber.”
With a quick jerk, he opened his hands. “Nothing to drink?”
The man looked like outraged food critic. Anger surged inside her, hotter than a broiling oven. For the past three weeks, she’d tried to find a way to make Mitch happy while she fulfilled the terms of her contract. Even though she’d tiptoed around the emotional minefield at Blake Glassware in order to meet Mitch’s needs, he still wasn’t happy. No more. Clamping her fingers around a bottle of water in the pantry, she tossed the drink across the room.
He snatched the bottle out of the air and slammed it beside the plate. Ripping the sandwich in two, he extended one half. “Aren’t you hungry?”
The hurt bleeding into her stomach washed away her appetite. Even if she’d prepared a gourmet meal, she couldn’t eat. “I’m joining someone for dinner.”
“A dinner date on a Monday. Impressive.” He flicked the sandwich onto his plate and a glob of jelly squirted onto the table. He stared at the red goo with a malevolent glare. “Who are you meeting?”
“Tara.”
“What?” Mitch shook his head. “Why?”
“She feels horrible about pushing me, and I don’t want her to carry around that guilt.” She walked past Mitch, feeling a fresh lash of grief when her black heels clicked against the tile. After living here for nearly three weeks, she’d grown used to the sound of his floor under her feet. “The website will go live in a couple of days. I’m training Sarah and Veronica to process the orders coming in through the Internet so they know what to do when I leave. I’ll stay until the middle of next week to iron out any problems. If you have any questions, text me.”
“I won’t expect to hear back.” He spoke without turning to
