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Valerie shakes her head slowly. “I’m not alone. I’m with you.”
I’m out of my bloody mind. Clearly spending six months with a dick as dry as the Sahara has me delirious. This woman isn’t real. Can’t be. She’s a mirage brought on by bourbon and desperation. And I’m going to walk her home anyway. Because she shouldn’t be out here by herself. Real or not.
I step away and hold my hand out to her, unable to fully breathe until her warm palm slides against mine. I lace my fingers with hers, stealing all the contact I can get. “Where do you live, Valerie?”
The sinful smile she sported earlier is back on her lips. “In Two Palms Apartments.”
I turn in the direction of the complex just off the main line of downtown, disappointment tugging at my gut. “That’s not far.”
“You know where it is off the top of your head?” Valerie lifts a brow, letting me lead her down the path, away from the bar halfway between her place and mine.
“I do.” I peek down at her. “My morning runs take me a few miles in this direction.”
“That’s impressive.” Her eyes lift to mine. “I barely know my way around the block.”
“I could help you learn your way around.” The offer slips out before I can stop it. I shouldn’t be trying to make plans with this woman. Valerie might not know who I am tonight, but all that will change the second she types my name into the search bar on Google—an innocent and understandable investigation that will lead to nothing good.
Not for me anyway.
I could change that though. Could easily twist my own fate with a few well-placed investments. It’s the double-edged sword I’ve considered jumping on more than once. But women wanting me for my money is just as soul crushing as women hating me for the lies they’ve been told.
“Are you offering to see me again, Fynn Hadaway?”
I love and hate the way she says my full name. Love that she remembers it.
Hate that she remembers it.
Slowing my steps, I try to drag the last bit of this fantasy out. “I guess that’s up to you.” And I know damn well what she’ll decide. As soon as Valerie tells one of her coworkers or friends my name, this little reprieve I’m enjoying will be over and reality will come crashing back down, smothering me with its weight.
“That’s good to know.” Her tone is teasing. “But you don’t seem super excited to spend more time with me.” Her lips push into a pout. “It could hurt my feelings if I let it.”
I can’t look away from the fullness of her mouth. The way her lower lip is now in the perfect position for a man to suck it between his teeth.
Why couldn’t I have met this woman a year ago? Before Jessica. Before my life came to a full stop, then fell apart bit by bit.
“I’m not trying to hurt your feelings. I’m just trying to be realistic.” I slow my steps as we get close to Valerie’s complex. I don’t want this to end. Don’t want to let her go. Because when I wake up tomorrow it will all be over. She’ll know who I am and she’ll look at me the same way every other woman in Sweet Side does.
I came here to get away from the chaos of London, wanting to replace it with a more relaxed—and sun filled—lifestyle, but the small size of the beachside community means word travels fast. Especially among certain circles. One wrong move and everyone who matters knows about it by morning.
And rumor has it I made one hell of a wrong move.
The temptation to go back to England has been strong. Just walk away and forget all this happened.
But I can’t go back to my old life. Not now. So I’m trapped. And I’m a bastard for thinking that way.
At least I earned it this time.
Valerie stops in front of one of the buildings I pass every morning before dawn and turns to face me, keeping her hand tucked in mine. “Is there a reason I shouldn’t want to see you again?”
The question hangs in the air, the weight of it heavy in a way I couldn’t explain to her even if I wanted to. Because I don’t know the answer. So I give her the honest truth, because that’s all I still have. “No. There’s not.”
She smiles. “Good.” Then, before I can prepare, Valerie steps in and presses her soft body against mine. Hips. Belly. Breasts.
Lips.
She brushes a whispering kiss against my mouth. It’s there and gone before I can process what’s happening.
“Thank you for walking me home, Fynn.”
