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CHAPTER TWO
VALERIE
PEEKING OUT the window, I watch as Fynn stares up at the building, a thoughtful expression on his stunningly handsome face. My heart is still racing as I watch him, squinting between a tiny gap in the blinds. After a few minutes he shakes his head before slowly turning to walk down the sidewalk, hands in the pockets of his pants, headed in the direction we just came from.
I wonder if he’s going back to the bar. I shouldn’t care how he spends his evening, and I don’t.
He just might end up getting hurt, and I can’t have that. Not when so much rests on his broad, muscular shoulders. Stupid man planned to drink that whole damn bottle of bourbon all by himself. Probably would have succeeded if I hadn’t collected every bit of bravery I possess to make my move. He should be thanking me.
His liver should anyway.
I move to the edge of the pane as his slow but steady steps continue, trying to keep my eyes on him for as long as possible. He’s so much better looking in person than I expected. All the photos I found online didn’t come close to doing him justice. In real life the man is breathtaking. Tall. Dark. Handsome. Strong jaw and thick brows.
And freaking dimples for days. Like God didn’t think he’d already done enough to cause the female population to want to fall at Fynn’s feet. Lucky for me, at least for now, the female population of Sweet Side is looking more to knock those feet out from under him and, based on our conversation and that bottle of bourbon, they’ve been pretty successful.
Their loss is my gain. And what a gain it will be.
That’s why I’m still standing here, hoping to catch a glimpse of the man who’s supposed to be nothing more than a convenient way to get what I need.
Technically, a couple of things I need. The first of which he shot down hard and fast, clearing up any illusions I tried to have regarding my abilities to seduce a man. They obviously suck as much now as they always have.
“Finally. You’re home.” My roommate and only ally, Crystal, rushes across the living room and grabs me by my shoulders, wide eyes boring into mine. “Was he as awful as everyone says?”
The question bothers me. It wouldn’t have a few hours ago, but that was before Fynn Hadaway turned out to be nothing like I expected.
Based on how the man looks, I was prepared for him to be a cocky bastard. He certainly has cause. Dark hair that pushes from his face in soft waves. Eyes so blue they could get lost in the waters of Fiji, and masculine hands I can imagine doing all sorts of wicked things to me. I was hoping to do more than imagine, and honestly I really thought there was a chance that could happen tonight. But, to my dismay, Fynn Hadaway turned out to not be awful at all.
I lift one shoulder, trying to make my next words sound like a casual observation even though I feel oddly irritated by her question. “He actually seems nice.”
“Nice?” The pitch of her voice rises. “Fynn Hadaway is not nice. He’s a filthy freaking liar.”
I glance out the window again and I’m surprised by the disappointment I feel when he’s nowhere in sight. I know we only spent a short while together, but he seemed so damn shocked I wanted to talk to him that I feel strangely defensive of him. “You can’t believe everything you hear.”
A few hours ago I was prepared to rest my whole future on the assumption that Fynn Hadaway was, in fact, a filthy liar. Hopefully a desperate one. Because that’s what I need. A desperate man. But Fynn Hadaway doesn’t seem desperate. He seems… Sad.
Lonely.
And maybe that’s close enough. Maybe it’s better.
My eyes sweep the street below the window, checking for one last glimpse of the man I plan to convince to be my knight in shining armor. Guilt settles into my gut, churning around the bourbon that’s no longer taking the edge off my emotions. I’m starting to feel bad about what I’m doing. The plan Crystal and I concocted.
But it has to be done. And it will benefit Fynn and me both. He needs my help as much as I need his. He just doesn’t know it yet.
Crystal snorts as she pads to the small kitchen tucked into the corner of the apartment. “Everyone knows he cheated on his girlfriend.” My only friend in Sweet Side leans out the kitchen doorway to point a spoon at me. “When she had cancer.”
I smother a sigh. I know the girl code. Know we’re supposed to band together when a man does one of our friends wrong. But Jessica Barnaby isn’t my friend, no matter how much I—and everyone else in this little gossip filled town—know about her life. “It was a precancerous mole.”
Crystal jumps out of the kitchen to stare at me, spoon still in one hand, unopened pint of ice cream in the other, her blonde ponytail bobbing with the movement. “She had to have it cut out of her skin with a scalpel.” Swiping her phone off the coffee table, she thumbs across the screen. “There’s a video.”
Of course there is.
Because Jessica Barnaby—the darling daughter of one of Sweet Side’s most wealthy and influential families—can’t take a crap without posting it to her Instagram account, looking for likes, attention—and in this case—sympathy.
“I don’t have any interest in watching the video.” I wave the phone away when Crystal holds it out to me. “I’m tired.” I give the street outside one final glance before turning away from the window. “I’m going to bed.”
Crystal studies me, spoon hanging from her mouth. “I thought you were going to sleep with him tonight.”
So did I. Was looking forward to it. Especially once I discovered Fynn smelled as good as he looked. But then he turned me down. Walked me home without so much as a hand on my ass or his tongue in my mouth.
