Ivy blew out a breath.
“Get out of my car,” she said flatly.
“But,” I protested, “I’m the victim here.”
“I mean, it’s sort of your own fault,” she countered.
“My fault?”I growled.
“You dated someone named Camilla, and she treated you like shit.Quelle surprise. You’re kind of a sociopath, but you don’t deserve someone who cheats on you with your own father.”
“I didn’t see it coming,” I said, releasing her.
Ivy raised an eyebrow. “I’m sure the women in your life did.”
“No they didn’t, and you never said anything to me either,” I lied. My sister, Mika, had never liked Camilla, and she hadn’t been shy about telling me. I glared at Ivy. “What do you know anyway?”
“Oh, you know, I’ve only just organized hundreds of weddings,” she said. “Trust me, I know when two people are in love. Camilla didn’t love you.”
“I loved her,” I said softly.
Ivy looked at me in pity then scowled.
“God, stop making that face. You’re making me feel sorry for you.”
“Have a drink with me,” I cajoled.
“I don’t have drinks with clients,” she said, turning around in her seat.
I tilted my head down slightly and did my best rakishly handsome look with the bedroom eyes. I caught her glance in the rearview mirror.
“It’s futile to resist,” I told her. “Women swoon when I turn on the charm.”
“I have no issues resisting,” she said, crossing her arms and turning to glare back at me. “Stop trying to manipulate me.”
“I’m sad and heartbroken and just need someone to talk to,” I told her, parting my lips slightly in what I had been told was an irresistible gesture. Ivy was wavering.
Ivy huffed, “Fine. I will take you to grabadrink, then I’m calling your friends.”
There were no bars out in the country, so we stopped at a gas station, and Ivy picked out a bottle of wine.
“I want beer,” I said.
Ivy gestured grandly. “Then have a beer.”
I patted my pockets.Crap. My friend Sebastian had my wallet too.
“That’s what I thought,” Ivy said.
“I’ll let you touch my chest if you buy these for me,” I said, picking up a case of a local craft beer.
Ivy regarded me thoughtfully. “That depends. Are those man titties covered in cash?”
“They could be.” I waggled my eyebrows at her.
“You’re disgusting,” she retorted, going to the cashier at the front of the store and swiping her card.
After she paid, we sat out in the parking lot on a curb. Ivy twisted off the cap and handed the bottle to me.
