Bitter Hearts
Zoey
There is nothing as majestic and wholly spiritual as Lake Loveless on a clear summer afternoon. The evergreens create a dramatic backdrop as the cobalt blue waters shimmer with every kiss from the sun. The tourists haven’t quite infiltrated the area with their hustle and bustle, those agonizing mothers that chase screaming children with sunscreen. But the onslaught is steadily growing. Soon enough it’ll be elbow-to-elbow bodies along the shoreline.
Kennedy invited Brylee, Reese, and me over to discuss the benefit. I think it’s noble of anyone to take on any kind of charity, but Kennedy in particular is a pit bull and Tuesday’s Child is lucky as hell to have her.
We chitchat about the fundamentals of the upcoming event while seated out on her expansive porch that overlooks the lake. The event itself isn’t set for another month and a half, but in the world of event planning that’s essentially tomorrow.
“I’m having it catered by two different companies. There will be a taco baranda sushi chef on hand.”
“What?” Reese looks like she can gag. “How about cuisine that actually compliments one another?”
Brylee lifts a finger as she downs the remainder of her mimosa. “I think what Reese means to say is throw something in there that the other foodies might enjoy, like afoodtruck.”
“Food trucks!” Kennedy tosses her arms in the air as if she’s waited all her life to hear those words. “Of course. That’s a brilliant idea. God, I should have come to you first, Brylee. You always have the best ideas.”
My eyes avert at the thought. Brylee is full of many things, but good ideas aren’t one of them. Brylee Peters is a walking bad idea—and that’s simply public opinion.
“I am full of good ideas.” She cuts a glance my way and holds me there with her heavy gaze. “That’s why I’ve set my eyes on your neighbor,” she sings as if trying to defuse the awkwardness that phrase just landed us in.
A sharp laugh evicts from my throat before I can stop it. Abel is so coiled up, so knotted up in pain I doubt he has the will or time to defuse the bomb that is Brylee Peters.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Brylee slips a loose curl behind her ear and leans in as if she’s genuinely surprised. Both Kennedy and Reese raise a brow as if just as interested.
“He’s busy. He’s writing his book.” My own lips can’t believe I didn’t cut to the quick with the truth. And that truth is that I think I want Abel McCarthy all for myself. Something in me heats at the idea. Of course, I want him sexually. I’ve never been one to turn down a beautiful man. Hell, I’m usually the one enticing him to the mattress, but there’s something else to the equation I can’t quite put my finger on.
“What kind of a book?” Brylee plants a hand over her chest as if I were about to fill her in on some twisted porn thriller he’s penning. Please. There are a lot of innocent people in this world, and Brylee Peters isn’t one of them.
“Something intellectual filled with three-dollar words. Maybe when it hits the shelves, you can ask Reese to translate for you.”
“Zoey!” Reese laughs while tossing a crumpled napkin my way. “Would you behave?”
Brylee offers Kennedy a brief glance. “Told you the little slut had her sights on him. Ten bucks says she’s already sucked him off and bagged him.”
“You are disgusting.” I take a sip of my drink and feel the citrusy burn on my tongue. “Abel and I aren’t there—yet.” I offer a sly smile her way. There. It was either that or telling her to step off my man. I’m sort of regretting I didn’t employ the latter.
All eyes are locked on me, but I choose to focus on the lone sparrow darting through the branches of the pine that loom over our heads like a canopy.
“So youareinterested.” Brylee shakes her head with a look on her face that saysI’m so sorry for you. “He’s a gorgeous man—of noble lineage.”
“Questionably noble.” Reese tips her champagne flute our way before wincing at Kennedy and mouthing the wordsorry.
“He’s an attorney.” Brylee stretches out the word while glowering at me.
My entire body inches back as if her words had morphed into a slap, and they had. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Brylee bucks, shaking with a silent laugh. “It means, he’s interested in a certain caliber of a woman.”
Both Kennedy and Reese groan at her lunacy.
“No, please, do go on.” I bite down on an impending naughty grin, but deep down, Brylee has cut me off at the knees. I don’t see why the hell I should care. Am I really expecting something that lasts with that sweet broken man? My heart wrenches as if dying to answer, but my head refuses to listen. I know all about love and its misgivings.
“Trust me”—Brylee stretches her legs over the side of the chair with the ease of a lazy house cat—“he’s looking for someone on par with him. I don’t know. He just doesn’t strike me as a one-night-stand kind of a person.” She shrugs it off as if she didn’t just casually scratch my eye out in the process.
“And I am—a one-night-stand kind of a person.” An instant rage funnels through me. I know what it’s like to be judged. I’ve been dismissed my entire life based on merely a glance. There are some things people expect from me and some things they don’t. Often the things they expect are not of a noble stature. I frown over at this ditz of a girl. I’ve known Brylee as long as I’ve known anyone sitting at the table. I’m only a few years younger, but in Loveless that might as well equate to decades.
Reese leans over and clasps her cool hand over mine. “That’s not what she meant.”
