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“Where is there to party in this town?” Adam asks and everyone glances my way.
“You can go to the brewery, Naked Falls Brewing. It’s next door. Or there’s the bar, Electric Vibes, at the end of the block.”
Bruce jumps up from his stool behind the drums. “I vote bar.”
“Second!” Adam shouts.
“You coming?” Simon asks as they approach the door.
I shake my head. No partying for me.
“No?” Simon’s brow wrinkles. “But you’re a legendary party maker.”
I was a legendary party maker. Before Mercy. I don’t want to ruin things with her by tying one on. I promised her I wouldn’t drink and I will keep my promise. No matter how much I’m dying to have a beer.
“I’m good.”
Bruce chuckles. “He’s probably going to pick up a chick and lose himself in her for a few hours.”
“Yeah,” Beck agrees. “The man is a legend.”
I am not picking up another woman. I don’t want any woman other than Mercy. My breath catches in my throat when the thought penetrates.
I don’t want any other woman than Mercy.
Shit. I’m falling for my sassy girl.
This is a bad idea. I know what love does to people. It makes them believe they have rights to you.
No. Mercy’s different. She would never try to use me. And she doesn’t care about my money.
I hope.
Chapter 17
Lightening strike – how it feels to get the surprise of a lifetime
Mercy
I groan as I wake up. My body aches in places it hasn’t ached in a long time. In places it’s never ached before. Gibson knows how to make my body sing. And he did over and over last night.
I roll over to wish him good morning but his side of the bed is empty. I listen for any sounds in the house but it’s quiet.
“Gibson!” I call, but there’s no reply.
Did he leave me alone in his house? What the hell?
I pound my fist against the mattress. I’m such an idiot. Of course, he took off. He warned me enough times how he isn’t interested in a relationship or love.
I should give him a piece of— The time on the bedside clock catches my attention. Damn. I’m late for work.
Gibson’s lucky I’m late because otherwise I would snoop through all of his things. And I do mean all of his things. Drawers, closets. You name it and I’d snoop through it. How dare he run away after the night we shared.
The night we shared? This is fake, Mercy. Fake. Fake. Fake. But it sure felt real last night when Gibson whispered sweet nothings into my ear while he moved inside me. When we stared into each other’s eyes as we came together.
It felt magical. Another reminder magic doesn’t exist.
I get out of bed and search the floor for my clothes. My panties are ripped beyond repair, so I throw them in the trash in the bathroom.
