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“Are you hurt?”
“Like you care.”
He stops and turns toward me. “What is with you tonight?”
“One word,” I say, narrowing my eyes. My filter is completely gone as I square up to the hockey player. To be honest, I’ve been waiting for an opening to bring this up ever since he reappeared. Part of me is looking for a fight. “Eve.”
I want to blame him for years of bad blood between me and my sister even though he has nothing to do with it. I want to accuse him of being stereotypical because he always chooses beautiful, vapid, shallow women. I’ve seen them on his arm on the internet, dozens of them. Flawless beauties on the surface, devoid of any real center. Oakley was the exception, but after her, it’s been one meaningless interaction after another.
“Eve.” He shakes his head, searching his memory. He runs a hand through his thick hair. “Okay, I’ll bite. Who’s Eve?”
I roll my eyes and start walking again. “Don’t act like you didn’t notice the beautiful blonde from before.”
He surprises me when he laughs, but it’s laced with frustration and followed by a groan. “There were about a dozen blondes in the bar tonight, Emerson. Just tell me what it is that I did to piss you off. Because I have no clue. We were having a good time until you went frigid on me all of a sudden. And I have no idea why. Is this some sort of alcohol rage?”
“Eve is the girl who came up to us at the bar.” I glance at his profile, the glow from the streetlamp lighting the side of his face. “The gorgeous one. She’s my sister.”
He’s surprised. “Why didn’t you tell me she was your sister?”
I shrug. We turn a corner.
“Now that I think about it … I can see the resemblance,” he says.
I give him an incredulous look. “Which part looks like me? Her light-blonde hair? Or maybe her blue eyes? Or, no, I know what it is … it’s her double-Ds that I didn’t inherit.”
“I don’t think she inherited those either.” He smirks, and he’s right. I’m not surprised that Sam can spot a fake pair of tits just by looking. He grows serious again. “It was the expression on her face. A couple of times, it reminded me of you.”
“I’m sure you weren’t looking at her face,” I quip. “That’s not typically the first thing guys like you notice about her.”
“Guys like me …” he scoffs mirthlessly. “You want to know what I noticed about her? That as soon as she appeared, you ran off. Why is that?”
My eyes are on my feet as I step over a crack in the sidewalk. “I figured you’d take one look at my sister and decide to have fun with her instead. She’s always liked you … it goes all the way back to high school.”
I hate the way the silence drags after I admit that. I despise the way my insecurities are exposed even more as each second ticks by.
“Is that right?” he hums. “That’s funny because we didn’t go to the same high school. And she doesn’t even know me.”
“You don’t know most of the women you sleep with,” I remind him.
He glances over at me. “Are you going to keep throwing my past in my face, or is this a one-night thing?”
I shrug. “I haven’t decided yet.”
“I thought it would be fun, seeing you drunk, but now, I’m not so sure I like it.”
We walk in silence for a few minutes, and I can feel his mind churning from a few feet away. It isn’t the first time someone has called me no fun, but it’s the first time he has.
“Do you want to know the truth, Emerson?”
“I always want the truth, Sam.”
He stares at the side of my face for a few steps. “Are you sure? Because I’m not sure you can handle it.”
“I can handle it,” I say boldly, liquid courage still coursing through my veins.
“The truth is, there’s only one gorgeous woman I was looking at tonight, and she wasn’t blonde.”
“Ahh, another prospect. There are just so many to choose from.” I frown, disappointment I don’t fully understand consuming me all over again. “Why aren’t you going home with her?”
