“Women with spirit are the best kind.”
Not for my peace of mind. “Give it a rest, Pops. There’s no point to any of this.”
“Course there is. A woman who’s got your attention must be pretty special.”
“She’s not special, and she doesn’t have my attention.” I set my bottle down on the table with a thud. “I just fucked up tonight by kissing her.”
“For God’s sake, boy,” he grumbles. “When are you going to cut yourself some slack? You are a damn fine man.”
“How can you say that, Pops?”
“Because it’s the truth.”
I shake my head and bury my face in my hands.
“Junior, you have punished yourself enough.” His rough, twisted fingers move over the back of my scalp. “I know how bad you feel—how responsible. But one mistake doesn’t forever define you.”
He’s wrong. This one had.
And I can’t undo it—Ever.
Not for me.
And not for Lilah.
Lexie had shown up at Dee’s just after eight o’clock with a strawberry shortcake. I’d blamed my earlier mood on Talon, telling my friends about his childish behavior. It allowed me to vent, even though he wasn’t the real cause.
But the evening had been exactly what I needed. Laughs, good food, good company, and being around Mick reminded me that not all men are scumbags. It’s official. I am done with Stiles—take two.
I select my all-girl playlist and tap out on my steering wheel, singing along with Ariana Grande, “I got one less problem without ya.”
The music pauses as my phone rings through the Bluetooth sound system. I see E pop up on my screen and consider hitting decline, but Eduardo doesn’t deserve that.
“Hi,” I answer.
“Cara.” His Italian accent is just one of his charming elements. We’d met online a year ago, and beyond the sexting, I liked his fun, laid-back personality. We became friends with benefits soon after, hanging out and hooking up. “I was beginning to think you were avoiding me.”
“Not at all. I’ve been busy.”
“All work and no play doesn’t sound likemia cara. I miss you.”
I realize I haven’t missed him. “It’s been quite a day, Eduardo. Can I call you tomorrow?”
“What’s wrong?”
“A colleague,” I say, blaming my mood once more on Talon and filling him in on the details.
“Let me come over and make you feel better.”
He would make me feel good…desired, and wanted. But as much as my ego could use the stroke and my body could use an outlet, a roll in the sack with one man to assuage the embarrassment from another isn’t on my to-do list. I’d sooner jump off the Willis Tower than have an orgasm motivated by the insults of J.D. Stiles. Not that he’d know or give a flying flick, butI’dknow, and I’m not going to give him the satisfaction.
“Thanks, but I have an early morning and need to get some sleep.”
“I’ll come tuck you in.”
“I’m not in the mood, Eduardo.”
“What’s going on, Jordyn?” He uses my name to punctuate his frustration. “Are you done with our relationship?”
