Page 40 of The Trouble with Flings

“Nothing. I’m due to get my period and not feeling very festive tonight.” What I don’t tell her is that ever since Costa Rica, I’ve felt off. Like being with Fitz cracked me open just enough to let things I don’t want to think about sneak in, and I can’t find the right putty to seal up the fissure.

“Uh-huh,” she says, clearly not buying it. “Let’s find someone to perk you up.” She sips her drink and surveys the room. “Who is that with Reggie?”

I glance across the room at Reggie Steele. The burly fortysomething PI with dark hair, slate-blue eyes, and serious sex appeal is the reason we’re at this party. He invited Mia, as he often does, to private gigs, and she brought me along, as she often does, for moral support.

Reggie is an interesting specimen. He’s a good man, but there’s a darkness about him, having seen too much of the harsher side of life. He’s the kind of guy who clocks every room the minute he enters it, giving off a don’t-fuck-with-me vibe, but beneath that tough exterior is a massive heart. One Mia has wanted to own for a very long time. They went on one date a few years ago, after which he kissed the hell out of her and then said they should just be friends.

Needless to say, I have a love-hate relationship with him.

I check out the tall, wavy-haired, bearded guy in the leather jacket he’s talking to. He’s exactly the type of guy who should pique my interest. Instead, Fitz’s face flashes in my mind unbidden. I turn back to Mia.

“He’s edgy, and he’s checking you out,” she says. “But who wouldn’t in that killer dress?”

I glance down at the black dress I wore to dinner on the yacht with Fitz, and that night comes rushing back, bringing rise to goose bumps and longing that I’m becoming annoyingly familiar with these last three weeks. I down the rest of my martini. “I think I’ll take another drink after all.”

I set my glass on the bar and flag down the bartender.

Mia spins around, her eyes narrowing. “Okay, that’s it. What is wrong with you? You’ve been acting weird since you got back from your trip.”

“No, I haven’t,” I lie, and order my drink.

“Bullshit. You just turned down six-plus feet of edgy deliciousness, which we both know is your cup of tea,” Mia says.

I roll my eyes. “Is it a crime to not be in the mood to pick up a guy?” I grab my drink and step away from the bar.

Mia follows. “No, but it’s a crime to lie to your sister. It’s Costa Rica Guy, isn’t it? He got into your head.”

I told her I’d run into the guy I had the fling with on Silver Island and we’d hooked up again, but I hadn’t gone into detail. “It doesn’t matter if he did.”

“Yes, it does,” she says seriously. “No guys ever get in your head. That means something.”

It means I liked him too much, trusted him too much, and felt too safe. “You and I both know how that would end, and I’m not going there again. Men are like puppies. They lure you in with their cuteness and then shred your life to pieces when you least expect it.”

She looks at me empathetically. “Not all men are like Gary.”

Even after all these years, I go rigid at the sound of that bastard’s name. The bruises faded, but the damage was done. You’d think I’d have learned my lesson, but the truth is, there were plenty of other assholes after him. They didn’t hurt me physically, but their assholeness added bricks and mortar to my walls.

“Don’t go there, Mia.”

“I’m just saying that maybe you should give him a chance. And if you’re not going to, then you should cut him loose. Otherwise you’re acting like Reggie, leaving him hanging on.”

I glance across the room at Reggie again, knowing he’ll never let her go for good, and now I understand that feeling. “Reggie’s a good man. He’s just seen the worst of the worst in his job. He told you that. And his father was a grade-A douche. He’s afraid he’ll hurt you.”

“Fear seems to be the driving force for both of you,” she says.

“I’m not afraid,” I snap.

Before I can say more, Shea Steele, Reggie’s vibrant blond sister, bursts through the crowd with her cousin and says, “There you are! Sorry I’m late. We had to make an appearance at two other parties, and it’s a madhouse out there. You guys remember my cousin Leni, don’t you?”

Shea owns a PR company, and Leni, a snarky redhead, works for her.

“Yeah. Hi, Leni. It’s great to see you again,” I say as we all exchange hugs. I haven’t seen her in forever.

“Where’s Raz?” Mia asks Leni.

“He got snagged by someone on the way in,” Leni says about her husband, Duncan “Raz” Raznick, an actor.

Shea gives me a once-over. “Damn, girl, vacation agrees with you. I want to hear all about Costa Rica. Did you have fun?”