"Belcaro then?" she asked. Her best friend, Patrice, had dated a man who grew up in that neighborhood. Talk about posh. The garages practically came with their own garages.
He shook his head. "Nope."
Huh. He lived in Denver. Everyone knew the Dimefront guys lived here. Which only left—
"I didn’t peg you as a golfer with a country club house." Though she didn’t know him. Not really. For all she knew, he played with a foursome every Saturday.
"Cherry Hills Village," he said, under his breath, before lifting a bottle of water to his lips.
His lips. That bottle. The way his throat worked as he swallowed. He went all in, just like he probably did in the bedroom.
Her stomach did the flippy thing again.
But he’d said something. What was it he’d said?
"Sorry, what?" She didn’t mean to blush, she’d just had a significantly dirty thought about him—
"Cherry Hills Village. That’s where I live." He quirked his head to the side. "You can stop guessing now that you know." He kicked off from the wall, moving toward her. "Now it’s my turn to tell the future."
"I can’t wait to hear it," she said with way more confidence than she actually felt.
"We’re going to go our separate ways," he said.
Wasn’t that pretty much what she’d said?
"But." He leaned in an inch closer. "Next time I’m in the hospital, I’m going to ask for that forearm IV because now I know. And you? Well, eventually, you’re going to realize that you could actually do something fun for yourself, and when that happens, you’re going to call me."
Hello, Mr. Presumptuous.
"That will not happen," she assured.
"Why not?"
She returned his sly smile from earlier and played her winning hand. "I just won’t take your number."
Chapter Four
MACH
Honest as all hell,Mach tried to erase Darla Davis from his brain. Yet it seemed like she was welded into his memory as one of those persistent flashbacks that wouldn’t leave him alone. Which meant he was screwed.
What did a guy do when he was screwed? He floated on a pizza slice in his pool. An inflatable slice. Let the sun beat down on his face and tried to burn away all thoughts from the other night. Then he hoped like hell he’d find the drive to get off the pizza, and get on with his life.
"He’s going to melt into that pool toy," Hans said.
Mach didn’t open his eyes to see who Hans spoke to because it didn’t matter. Not really. They’d all ride his ass about getting out of the pool and on with his life. The usual suspects would be any of his bandmates or their women: Linx and Becca, Bax and Courtney, Knox and Irina, or Tanner and Samantha.
"We all have our own coping mechanisms," Becca said. "He’s not hurting anyone. As long as he’s wearing sunscreen. You wearing sunscreen, Mach?"
He grunted and gave a thumbs up. He took back what he thought before. This is why he liked Becca. She kept her nose out of his shit.
"Let him handle his rejection in this somewhat healthy manner," Becca continued.
Nope, didn’t like the rejection word since that’s not what had happened. But Becca was a licensed professional counselor, so she knew all kinds of stuff and he would let it slide. Still, the word stung.
"Mach, these kinds of emotions are all new to you. Float away your uncertainty," Becca continued.
Yeah, he’d always liked Becca. She was the bomb.
