Page 1

CHAPTER 1

SUMNER

"Why are men trash?"

I turn and squint at the woman who’s just slid onto the stool next to me. The neon pink light from the Bottom's Up sign over the bar bleeds across her face, and she keeps slipping in and out of focus.

Yeah, it’s safe to say I’m drunk as fuck.

"Why are women shady as hell?" I counter, tossing back another shot.

When I set the empty glass down, that same pink light that kind of hurts my eyes glints off the ring on my finger. I scowl down at the stupid fucking thing, gripping it and tugging it off. My skin’s pale where the ring’s sat for the last few years, and I wish it wasn’t. I wish there was no reminder of everything I lost today.

Or everything I guess I never really had, depending on how you look at it.

I pinch the cursed thing between my thumb and finger, wondering what the fuck I’m doing with my life.

How I could’ve wasted so much time to end up here.

But that shot I just took burns its way into my blood, and I don’t really care to think deep thoughts anymore.

So, I pin my wedding ring to the sticky bar top with my finger and flick it. It spins, the gold a blurry halo, and my head spins right along with it.

I’m afraid there’s not enough alcohol in the world to forget.

I look back at the woman beside me as she shifts on the barstool. The heat of her bare arm almost brushing up against mine makes the hair on that arm stand up. She's studying me, her eyes narrowed behind thick, dark frames. She must see something that tells her I'm not one of those trash men she was referring to, because she smirks, looks me up and down, and lifts her half-empty glass to clink it against the new shot I've somehow found in my hand.

"You know what?” She gulps her drink down while I toss mine back. "Lemme catch up. I have a feeling I'm gonna need to be drunk for this conversation."

"I'm not really in a conversation sort of mood." I flick my ring again and watch it spin until it clatters flat against the wood.

"Yep. Definitely gonna need to be drunk for this." She eyes me as she flags down the bartender, the movement pulling her cropped tank top tight across her chest and flashing me a strip of skin and cleavage that’s damn near spilling out.

If I’d met her even yesterday, I’d look away. I wouldn’t let myself go there because the vows I took meant everything to me, even if things weren’t perfect.

But now?

I’d love to bury my face right in there. I bet her tits are soft and pillowy and so much more than a handful. I could lick and bite and suck on them and leave marks all over them, and… fuck. I blow out a breath. Despite how drunk I am, my dick gives an interested twitch. I swallow hard and focus back on my ring.

She shifts toward me, bumping her shoulder into mine on purpose, and it’s like a firework goes off where her skin touches mine. "And you're gonna need to be drunker."

I bite back a groan. "I don't think that's a word."

She grins, but it doesn’t make it up to her eyes. "Who the fuck cares? Is what I said untrue?"

It doesn't take long before her smile drops, and there’s grief there underneath the show she’s trying to put on. I recognize it because it’s the same feeling I’m doing my damnedest to drown. I haven't bothered to look at anyone since I parked myself on this stool with two goals: get drunk enough to forget and then pass out on the beach under the stars.

But now I can’t stop looking at her.

She's got dark, messy hair piled on top of her head and thick thighs that are made for burying a face between. There’s a sleeve of colorful tropical flowers and leaves tattooed down her entire arm. When she pushes her glasses up onto her head and fans her flushed face, I get my first real look at her eyes.

They’re a little red-rimmed, but that doesn’t stop me from falling into them. I’m dizzy as I stare like a moron, and I don’t know if it’s her or the alcohol, but for a second, the suffocating weight in my chest lessens.

The whole bar drops out from under me, the music and neon blurring into nothing until her face is the only thing left in focus. She doesn’t look away, and for a few seconds, I forget what I was thinking about.

Fuck, is she pretty.

Then the bartender slams two more tequilas down between us. We both jump, breaking eye contact with awkward laughs as the music and bar sounds come back in like someone hit play on a remote.