Page 71 of Worth the Try
Happy with myself, I finish getting ready and take myself over to the main house.
I find Ansel and Rosie exactly where I expect them to be: Rosie swinging her legs from her perch on the stool at the kitchen island, and Ansel frowning as he wrangles with her hair.
And even though I’m angry, I smile at them both.
“Will you give me fishbone braids, Elle Belle?” Rosie asks.
Ansel’s mouth tips into a crooked grin. “I did an image search for them, but I got confused.”
“Clearly,” I say, looking at the mess he’s created and grabbing the spray bottle to soak her curls. Leaning down to Rosalie, I tell her, “We can do it, but with your hair being so curly, it’s going to take some time.”
“Okay,” she says, going back to her coloring book. “I’m hungry.”
“Cereal okay this morning?” Ansel asks. “I need to leave a little early.”
At that, my anger increases to a simmer.
“Okay,” Rosie chirps again.
“Elodie?”
I glance up, raising an eyebrow in silent inquiry.
“Can we—?” He gestures to the front.
“I’ll be right back,” I tell Rosie, then walk out of the kitchen.
“Is everything okay?” Ansel asks when he joins me, his duffel already hanging on his shoulder.
“You tell me.” The words come out shaky as I cross my arms. My heart races.
His brow furrows, then clears as realization dawns. “You’re angry.”
“Yes!” I exclaim, torn between excitement that he understood and also, you know, beingmad.
“You’re angry…withme,” he continues, a flash of hurt crossing his expression.
“Yes,” I confirm again.
His shoulders slump. “I’m sorry, Elodie.”
“You should be,” I say, trying hard to lean into the anger, even though I really want to drop it. “Because I thought we had something.” My words dip, getting softer at the end. “Whatever we have, it’s early, I know, but?—”
He closes the distance and cups my face, staring down at me with such intensity that my breath catches. “No. It may be early, but that doesn’t change what this is.”
My heart squeezes, anger totally dropping in the wake of him. “You feel it, too?”
He nods, then presses his lips to mine. It’s a soft kiss, sweet and gentle, full of promises. I wrap my arms around him, pulling him close and kissing him back with just as much emotion as he’s giving me.
With a groan, he releases me. His eyes search mine. “I’ll tell you everything tonight.”
I fist his T-shirt. “Promise?”
His lips quirk up. “If I don’t, will you get mad again?”
I smile back at the teasing. “Maybe.”
He kisses me again. “I like you mad. It looks good on you.” He lets me go and opens the door, then glances back. “Tonight. I promise.”
