Pete.
God, what a disasterthatwould be.
So I keep my mouth shut. Sam’s smart. He’ll figure it out.
He’s flying in tonight, just for one night before heading to Montreal again. And as ridiculous as it sounds, I’m giddy. It’s been two weeks since I’ve seen him, two long, too-quiet weeks, and I’ve missed him. Missedus.
Yes, we’re casual.
No, there are no labels.
But I’m done pretending I don’t feel the pull every time he’s near.
By late afternoon, we’re at Colin and Sin’s. The backyard’s buzzing with life—music playing, kids splashing, the smells of sunscreen and barbecue in the air. The pool is a magnet for everyone.
Then Sam arrives.
It’s almost cinematic how every head turns when he steps out onto the deck. The man could walk into a room full of models and still steal the spotlight.
He tosses his shirt aside, and of course, the collective female gasp isaudible.His tattoos gleam under the sunlight, the ink on his forearm, the script across his ribs. I still don’t know the significance of his snake and flowers.
His body is pure temptation wrapped in muscle and heat, the kind that should come with a warning label.
From my vantage point in the kitchen, I have a perfect, guilt-free view through the glass doors.
Outside, women stop mid-conversation, sunglasses sliding down their noses as they drink him in. I’m fairly certain someone just dropped a drink.
“Wow,” Sin breathes from behind me.
I glance over my shoulder. She’s frozen in place, eyes wide, mouth parted, the picture of awe.
“I know.” I compel my body to spin away, back now to the glass. “Trust me, I’m painfully aware.”
For a second, we both just stand there, appreciating the view. Then I blurt it out before I can talk myself out of it. “I’m going on a date next week.”
Sin’s head snaps toward me. “What? With Sam?”
I shake my head, watching him dive cleanly into the pool, water catching the sun like a thousand diamonds. “No. Someone else.”
23
OLIVIA
Sin’s eyes bug out of their sockets, disbelief morphing into curiosity. “Hold on—what?”
Her troubled expression makes me shrink a little and I look away, fiddling with a stray napkin on the counter. I don’t need her approval.
“I’m going on a date with Mrs. Preston’s nephew. She’s been hounding me for weeks, so I caved.”
Her blonde brows rocket to her hairline. “Shut up. You couldn’t just tell her you have a boyfriend?”
“But I don’t.” I try to ignore my cringe at the juvenile word.
Her look sharpens. “But yousleptwith Sam, right?”
Heat floods my cheeks, and I don’t even bother answering.
“I’ll take that as a yes. Liv, you’re not a one-night-stand kind of woman. So tell me, how is thissupposedto work?”
