Beauty and the Brit by Poppy St. James
CAMRYN
“Let me get this straight,” Anna says with her hands on her hips.
Leaning back in my office chair, I gesture for her to go ahead. The beginning of a headache stirs in my temples and I press my fingertips there, hoping to stave it off, at least for a few more hours until I’m home.
“So you’re mad at Sterling because he kissed the daylights out of you, fed you gelato and then paid all your bills. Wow, yeah, what a dirt bag.” Then she grins, wickedly.” I’ll marry the dirt bag tomorrow.”
When she words it like that . . .Pressing the heels of my hands against my eyes, I take a deep breath and end up bursting out in laughter.
“You can’t say things like that, Anna!”
She shrugs. “What? Let’s call a spade a spade. Now the question is . . . did he do it well?”
I raise one brow in her direction. “The kissing?”
She nods. “Was it phenomenal? I bet it was phenomenal.”
“Like that will forgive everything?”
She rolls her eyes. “Yes, because helping with your bills is such a crime.”
“He was . . .” Crap, I can’t lie to her. “The best I’ve ever had.”
She pumps her fist into the air. “I knew it!”
Straightening my posture, I take a deep breath. “That aside, it was a total invasion of privacy, Anna. I was screwed over by the last guy I was with. David had no boundaries, didn’t understand that dabbling in my personal affairs was a no-no, and now it seems Sterling doesn’t either.”
She scoffs. “This is totally different, Camryn. David was up to no good. You need to look at Sterling’s motivation and intentions. His heart was in the right place.”
“Maybe.” I cross my arms over my chest. “This whole thing is just getting really complicated between us, and this is just one more thing. I don’t know how to feel. And to clarify, he didn’t pay my bills, he consolidated them.”
She nods, giving me a sad smile. “I get that. So, what are you going to do?”
“He wants to talk to me tonight.” He texted first thing this morning, and I agreed.
“Are you okay?” Anna asks, her expression changing to one of concern.
The truth is, I’m not. “I don’t know what I’m doing, Anna, and I’m scared.”
She nods. “I know what we need to do . . .”
“What?” I ask.
Her gaze drifts to the floor. “You’re not going to like this, but I think it’s for the best.”