Page 58 of Rough and Rugged

I’m such a rebel.

“Next.” The counter worker calls out and we place our order. I don’t expect Grant to critique my selection, but if Ellis has a comment, he doesn’t share it. In fact, he’s adding to the order with a side of German potato salad, telling me over his shoulder, I need to try it.

We find a tall table to place our treasured food on and dig in. I moan and hum around every bite. Grant ignores me, but Ellis watches my mouth. His eyes widen with every groan. He licks his lips and I follow suit as if I have something on my own. He’s rather attentive as I eat and I hold my breath a second, waiting for a comment, a criticism, a snarky remark.

“Here. Try this.” He extends a large forkful of German potato salad in my direction.

“It’s so big.”

Ellis growls.

The scoop is so large it looks like it might topple over before he brings the plastic utensil to my mouth. Opening as wide as I can, I take in the sample. Instantly, my mouth waters with the burst of carbs and mayo. Two things that deserve a medal and are underrated in their food group categories.

“Delicious.” I purr around the bite.

“You’re delicious.” As the words pop out of Ellis’s mouth, his eyes widen.

My lips gape open, potato salad on display.

Grant chokes. “Dude. What the fuck?”

Ellis blinks once, like he’s mentally trying to recall what he said. Figure out how to backpedal. Or maybe he’s wondering why he said what he said. Where did that even come from?

“I . . . uh . . .” A saving explanation escapes him, and a deep pink stain coasts up Ellis’s face. He’s already a little sweaty from the heat of the day and the press of bodies close to us, plus that ridiculous sweatshirt he’s wearing mid-day in August. I should have taken his sweatshirt and let him have his flannel to wear.

“I’m getting another beer,” Grant stammers, leaving our table, taking the beer he hasn’t finished with him to nurse while standing in the long line.

“I shouldn’t have said that.” Ellis quickly apologizes, eyes avoiding mine.

I want to brush off his apology, and even what he’d said, but something in thewayhe said the compliment has given me pause.

With my left hand on the table, I extend my fingers and glance down at the ring another second. Looking up, I watch Ellis’s eyes close, his brows pinched, his expression pained.

“I’m sorry,” he chokes, whispering.

Thickness coats my throat, and I swallow hard.Here goes nothing. “Wesley said I was fat.”

“What?” Ellis’s roar is thunderously loud, along with a hammered fist on the wobbly high-top and the lightning speed of his eyes opening, causing me to almost stumble backward. Anger etches deep lines on his face.

“He didn’t say it in so many words. The comments were small but consistent. Insistent.Should you really be eating that? Are you sure that’s good for you? You don’t want to be a bursting bride instead of a blushing one.”

That last one had been the final straw.

“What a fucking fucker.” Ellis’s voice is still too loud, and I glance over my shoulder to see if anyone close is listening or offended.

I sheepishly peer back at him. “It just became too much.Hewas too much. And I know my worth.”

Although Wesley’s words certainly had chipped away at me.

“Damn right,” Ellis barks.

“Andhewasn’t worthy ofme.” I hold up my hand, staring at the ring in wonder. “I broke off the engagement.”

A long, harsh breath escapes Ellis, brushing over my cheeks like a comforting summer breeze.

“Thank God,” he grunts.

My head shoots up again, staring at him.