Page 201

I opened my mouth.

She waved her hand at me. "Close it. I'm not finished."

My mouth snapped shut. Apparently, ninety years of living in Valentine Bay came with the authority to issue verbal traffic citations.

"I've known Damon Lockhart since the day he was born. Watched that boy grow from a hell-raising little heathen into a hell-raising grown man. He's charming. He's reckless. And he's never met a woman he couldn't make smile."

"Exactly." She was proving my point.

Her eyes narrowed. "Did I ask for your agreement?"

"No, ma'am."

"Good. Then stop interrupting me." She adjusted her grip on her cane. "That boy's been flirting with ladies since he was old enough to figure out what his dimples were good for. But you know what he’s never done?"

I shook my head.

"Fall for one."

Something uncomfortable shifted beneath my ribs. "Mrs. Valentine⁠—"

"I've seen him bring women flowers. Buy them drinks. Dance with them until their feet hurt. But I've never seen him look at one the way he looks at you."

I swallowed. "How does he look at me?"

"Like an idiot."

I blinked.

"A happy idiot," she clarified. "The kind who'd walk into traffic because you smiled at him from the other side of the street."

Despite myself, I almost smiled. "I think he’s just a happy person."

"Oh, for heaven's sake." She rolled her eyes. "I'm old, sweetheart. Not stupid."

Heat crept up my neck.

"That boy's been making women feel special his whole life. But there's a difference between making a woman feel special and finding the one who makes every other woman disappear."

My throat tightened.

"And when you're around, that boy doesn't know another woman exists."

I stared at her. Because that wasn't true. Was it?

I'd seen Damon flirt. I'd watched him charm complete strangers. I'd spent an entire weekend reminding myself that his attention didn't mean anything because he gave it away so freely.

But had he? Not since we'd started pretending to be together. Not even when he was surrounded by Charlie’s Angel’s at the bar in Cupid’s Arrow. The realization landed somewhere I wasn't prepared for.

Mrs. Valentine watched my expression change. "There it is."

"What?" I asked.

"First sensible thought you've had all week."

I frowned. "You don't even know what I'm thinking, unless you’re telepathic."

"Don't need to be. Your face is doing all the talking."