World's Worst Boyfriend: A Romantic Comedy Adventure (Fake It Book 3) by Carina Taylor (books to get back into reading .TXT) 📕

“Why are you in my house?” I shut off the water and set the teapot down on the counter, clicking it on to boil the water.

Opening another cupboard, I tried to reach the extra boxes of tea on the top shelf. Climbing onto the counter to reach, I dug around until I found a box of sleepy lavender tea.

I yelped when Fletcher lifted me off the counter and set me on the ground.

“I don’t want you to hurt yourself. Why don’t you use that step stool I bought you?” He pointed to where it leaned against the side of the fridge.

Out of habit, I grabbed two mugs from the cupboard and set a tea bag in each one.

“Where’s your car?” I asked again, not wanting to acknowledge his desire to keep me safe—or the warm, fuzzy feeling it invoked in me.

“I parked on the other street and walked down the alley,” he said as he pulled the honey jar from the cupboard and set it next to the teapot.

“Why didn’t you want me to see you parked here?” I asked as I took the spoon he passed me.

“It wasn’t you I was worried about,” Fletcher mumbled. “Now, who dropped you off?”

I poured the water into the cups, adding honey from the jar. “Sullivan. The same man you were doing a job for the other day. Remember him?” The sarcasm rolled off my tongue like the honey off the spoon.

“I saw him talking to you at the restaurant. How did you two originally meet?” Fletcher ground out through a clenched jaw.

“Why does it matter?”

“Because it does. And you let him give you a ride home. Do you have any idea how unsafe it is to climb into the car with a stranger?” His voice was climbing steadily.

“Quit treating me like a child, Fletcher. I’ve known him for a couple weeks. I was tired of being at the restaurant with the girls. I wanted to go home. Sullivan was kind enough to bring me.” I pulled my phone out of my pocket to check my messages. Zoe hadn’t texted once. She’d probably found a date to spend the rest of the night with.

I passed Fletcher a mug of tea, then took mine to go sit in my comfy papasan chair.

“So, you met this man a couple weeks ago?”

“Yes, actually right before we broke up. It was on Grandmother’s birthday night.”

He scowled. “Wait—back up. How did that happen?”

“Why do you care?”

“Didn’t you say you’d like to be friends even after we broke up?” He baited me with a snarky smile.

“I’m regretting that already.”

“Spill.” He sat down on the couch across from me, sipping his tea.

“My car broke down on the way home from the birthday party. I tried calling you several times. You didn’t answer. Big surprise. Sullivan happened along and helped me get a tow truck. He gave me a ride home so I wouldn’t have to spend the night on a deserted road.”

Fletcher set his cup down on the coffee table with a loud thump. He didn’t even use a coaster.

He stood up and began pacing.

“You got in the car with a strange man not once, but twice? What were you thinking?” He raged back and forth. “You should have called me!” I plastered myself to the papasan. This was not a side of Fletcher I’d ever seen before.

I’d seen calmly annoyed. Mildly upset. Frustratingly unflappable. But I’d never seen this veritable rage monster walking on my white rug with his outdoor shoes.

“You could have been murdered!” He bellowed. “Sullivan’s bad enough, but what if it had been someone even worse!”

He looked like he was about to punch my textured wall. I stood up, setting my teacup on a coaster next to the World’s Worst Boyfriend trophy I’d decided to display on my mantel. I was ready to face this stranger in my home, if only to save my rug.

“You knock it off, Fletcher. Like I said, I tried to call you multiple times that night and…You. Didn’t. Answer! We’re not together anymore! You don’t get to lecture me on safety!”

“Oh, I don’t?” He spun around and faced me, moving close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off of his body. Towering over me, his clenched jaw ticking with his pulse. “I will lecture you whether you broke up with me or not. You know why? Because I care. Because no matter if you think we’re done, I’m not done loving you. And I hope you live to be as old as Glamma.”

“Stop calling her that!” I shrieked. A little tender that Grandmother preferred Fletcher over me—not that I’d expected anything different from the woman. “I know you’re only mentioning her to get a rise out of me.”

He leaned down to whisper in my ear. “Is it working?”

I shoved his chest. “No, it’s not. Now back off. And take those shoes off. You’re going to stain my carpet.”

He took a step back and toed off his tennis shoes, kicking them back toward the front door.

“You’re a caveman, you know that? I’d never realized. I thought you were a mild-mannered IT guy. No, turns out you’re a grumpy beast who wears his shoes in the house and flies off the handle when he finds out his girlfriend, no, ex-girlfriend, rode with a stranger late at night!”

I planted my hands on my hips and glared at him. All right, admittedly, it did sound bad even to my own ears.

“Do you even hear yourself?” He whipped his hat off and threw it on the couch. “A stranger!”

“You know why I broke up with you?” I took a step toward him.

“Because you wanted to be treated like a spoiled little princess? Like that magazine said?” He flung his hand through the air in a mocking gesture of a princess parade wave.

“Ooh,” I fumed before I ground out, “I am not a violent person. But I could happily smack you right now!”

He held his arms out to the side. “Have at it,