Because she’d never been able to read the room, she continued on as if I were interested. “I’ve just been so busy lately, what with the preparations and all. I hope you’re not too upset that I didn’t send you an invitation.”
“An invitation to what?”
She blinked up at me, her face a mask of confusion as if she didn’t understand my question, and breathed out a laugh. “To my wedding, of course.”
I scratched my jaw, squinting one eye as I stared down at her. “Why would I be upset about that?”
She tossed her hair over her shoulder, a cloud of her cloyingly sweet perfume smacking me in the face with the power of a two-by-four, and looked at me with pity. “I just know how hard this must be for you. Seeing me—the one who got away—moving on. Marrying someone else.”
I snorted, not bothering to try to hide it. There was exactly one woman in the world I couldn’t handle marrying someone else, and it sure as fuck wasn’t my ex-girlfriend from high school who’d set me on my path of singledom, thanks to the horror that had been a relationship with her.
“I promise you,” I said, “I am not even slightly upset about this. I’m happy for you and Larry.”
“Barry.”
“Sure.”
She let out a soft, sympathetic huff and stuck out her bottom lip. “I just love how brave you’re acting about this whole thing.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”
She carried on as if I hadn’t spoken. “It must be hard for you to see me moving on like this. Especially when, you know…”
No, I didn’t know, and I didn’t need to. But Chelsea had always known exactly the buttons to push to manipulate people, and I fell right into her trap.
“Especially when what?”
She raised a shoulder. “Just knowing you’re the guy women have lots of fun with before they settle down—God knows you’re perfect for a good time—but you’re definitely not the one they bring home. Not the one they actuallykeep.”
Her words shouldn’t have stung. Not when they were true. There was no denying my attributes—perpetual flirt, amazing one-night stand, consistent booty call.
Someone’s forever? Not my style.
But she’d aimed the words as if they were daggers meant to kill. And I had no intention of allowing my ex-girlfriend and all-around awful human to walk away from this encounter with the upper hand. So, I did what I always did and leaped before I looked.
“I’m sure you have extra plates. Consider this my RSVP for two. I’ll bring my girlfriend.”
Never mind the fact that I didn’t have a girlfriend. Worse, I didn’t even have a bed partner, because my dick hated me, and the only woman he was interested in wouldn’t give me the time of day. But that was future Ford’s problem to solve.
Chelsea tipped her head to the side. “Is that what you’re calling one-night stands now?”
I bared my teeth in some semblance of a smile. “Careful, you’re starting to sound jealous.”
She breathed out a forced laugh and narrowed her eyes, plastering on a fake smile. A viper ready to strike. “I’m not jealous! Why would I be? I’ve moved on from the one-and-done stage. I needed someone a bit more…permanent. And we both know that was never and will never be you.”
Along with everyone else in Starlight Cove, I tended to agree with her. But something had shifted in the past couple months. Turned out, nameless bodies weren’t quite as fulfilling at thirty-two as they had been at twenty-two.
“I’ll send you the details.” Chelsea pulled out her phone, and mine pinged with an incoming text. One of the downfalls of small-town living—once someone had your number, they had it forever. “Can’t wait to meet this…girlfriendof yours.” With a flutter of her fingers, she turned around and walked out of the store.
Well, that was just fucking great.
I didn’t know how the hell I was going to get out of that one, but I had more pressing issues right now. Like beating Aiden’s ass at this bet. I grabbed my phone to check the time, sure I’d blown past the ten minutes by now, but that whole hellish encounter had only lasted six. Still, four minutes wasn’t nearly long enough, which meant I needed to haul ass, get creative, and call in reinforcements.
I dialed my twin’s number as I headed toward the snack aisle. If anyone was going to have a winning idea on what I should grab, it would be Beck, runner of the resort diner, menu planner, and blueberry scone aficionado.
It rang twice, then, “Yeah?”
“I need your help.”
