I scowl, but glance at the others, just wondering if they’re actually listening to this shit.
“What brunette are we talking about?” Evan repeats, still clueless.
“Sierra Daniels,” Jace blabs. “She runs the smoothie bar at the pier. Miss Behaving, from the bachelorette party.”
“Oh,” Evan says, totally getting it now. “Her.”
Jace cocks an eyebrow at me. “Care to deny?”
“Sorry, man,” Evan says to me. “I don’t know anything about this woman, but I definitely saw you with her. And the rest of it’s true. Not that there’s anything wrong with being selfless like you are. Some might even call it heroic.” He gives Jace a look. “We can’t all be unrelentingly self-interested like Jace.”
“I mean, it’s not hard,” Jace drawls. “You just take what you want.”
“Noble,” Evan says.
“You just haven’t been yourself since Sierra came to town,” Jace informs me. “So maybe you should give that some thought.”
What he doesn’t know is that I’ve given that—her—way too much thought already.
It’s sickening how often that woman is in my head.
I’m fuckingbusy.
After my morning workout, and sometimes a walk with my brother’s dog, I have breakfast with my family, then I have plenty of work to do as general manager of the cidery. Most days I head over to the bar to work in the office sometime in the afternoon, because I manage that, too. I usually leave when the evening bartender comes in just before the dinner rush, to eat with my family. Some nights I go back to the cidery or the bar to work some more.
And right now, I’m also juggling the renovations on the house and helping out Layne with the final fixes on his cottage so he and Kaylie can move in.
I have more than enough going on to occupy my time and my mind, and yet there she is, taking up too much fucking space.
Definitely doesn’t help that I know she’s sleeping on June’s property, right next door. And her smoothie bar is right across from my bar, which means I see her going in and out all the time. And everyone in town is talking about Cutie Fruitie—and its beautiful owner from the city.
I’m annoyed as hell that both Layne and Jace have been in there. Layne on opening night, last week, and Jace yesterday. And both of them felt the need to report back to me, in detail, about how “hot” Sierra looked and how “adorable” the smoothie bar is.
“I already told you,” I grit out. “I have no interest in her. She’s just standing in my way.”
In truth, I’ve been feeling weirdly conflicted ever since I declared war against her on the beach. I need June to deny her the extension on her lease. But deep down, I’m fucking disturbed that I don’t love the idea of her leaving town like I should.
I can’t fall for Sierra Daniels. I can’t even like her in any amount. What would be the point? I’d just get hurt. She doesn’t live here; not permanently. Anyone can see she doesn’t belong here. We havenothing important in common. And I’m way too old to let my hormones make decisions for me.
I don’t even approach one-night stands that way. I’m incredibly pragmatic about who I sleep with. Have to be, so they don’t get attached, and I don’t have to feel guilty about it. Sex is just sex.
And Sierra Daniels is a walking thorn in my side.
I can’t risk fucking her and growing feelings, but I can’t seem to forget her.
I’ve even tried to pretend that the owner of that smoothie bar is some faceless corporation so I don’t have to feel anything about fighting over Pier Seven with a live human, or the fact that that human isher.
Impossible.
For nine nights straight I’ve been plagued by memories of that night we shared. And they’ve only gotten worse the more I revisit them.
More vivid. More intense. More real, like they’re happening right here and now.
I’ve zoned out countless times at the bar, remembering how we clung to each other outside, in the dark.
And remembering how we clung to each other after we tumbled into that narrow bed together. How she kissed my neck. Flickered her tongue along my throat, tasting me.
Skimmed my earlobe with her teeth, making my balls throb.
