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  Her arms are wrapped around my neck, and she’s looking at me with a contemplative expression. “You don’t want me to move here.”

  It’s not a question, but I feel the need to respond anyway. “No.”

  “You want me to move to Seattle,” she tilts her head, trying to read my face. Her platinum blonde hair glowing in the sun.

  Again it’s not a question, but I answer her without hesitation. “Yes.”

  She doesn’t smile, and I can’t seem to read what she’s thinking, which is not the norm for her. After a beat of staring into each other’s eyes, she leans into my ear and whispers, “What if I don’t like Seattle?”

  “You will,” I tell her simply.

  She pulls back to look at me and a wry smile is pulling at the corner of her mouth. Leaning in, she kisses me hard before wiggling herself free and standing on the sidewalk again.

  “It is rather expensive to live here,” is all she says, taking my hand and pulling me on. There’s not much more I can say on the subject after that.

  We spent hours roaming around, which was incredible. After our mini moment in the street, I stopped making disparaging comments and just enjoyed how cool the city is. It’s really something else.

  Streetcars and old Victorian-style houses and buildings, the ridiculous hills. I think my favorite was Chinatown. Katie’s too.

  We took a long nap and ate dinner in our previously appointed restaurant—again, thanks, Claire—before heading over to the bar Katie had heard about.

  It is in a converted warehouse, so it’s essentially a large open space with sky-high ceilings and exposed piping. Very trendy, with a heavy bass beat in the background as well as black mood lighting and candles. The bar takes up an entire wall with more shelves of alcohol than I’ve ever seen.

  Katie spots a tiny place to sit off to the right, and goes to snag it while I get us a couple of drinks.

  I finally manage to get the attention of the bartender and order Katie’s apple martini and my whiskey when I feel hands sliding up my back. I spin around with a smile on my lips expecting it to be Katie, but it’s not.

  It’s Francesca.

  My smile dies instantly.

  “Ryan Grant,” she purrs, her dark eyes eating me up from top to bottom and then back again. “Fancy seeing you here. You look amazing. I like the beard.” Liar, is the main thought that filters through my mind before, what the fuck?

  She looks good too, but I’m not about to say that to her.

  Her dark, stick-straight hair is down her back, and she’s wearing the smallest of dresses that show off her curvy figure. As always she has on more makeup than I like, but that too looks good on her.

  No doubt that Francesca is a beautiful woman, but she pales in comparison to Katie. It’s not even a contest.

  “Hello, Francesca. Nice to see you.” It’s not. That was a lie, but I couldn’t think of anything else to say.

  “What are you doing in San Fran? I know you didn’t fly here,” she muses as if my newfound fear of flying is comical. She was not the most attentive or nurturing after the accident, and that alone should have tipped me off to the type of person that she is.

  “I’m traveling with someone. What about you?” And why is the bartender taking forever to make our drinks?

  “I’m here for business, of course,” she says as if I should already know. Then she leans into me, running her hand up my chest. “I’ve missed you.”

  I take her hand and pull it away from me, trying to extricate myself from her venomous clutches.

  Francesca takes a step back, and as she does, her eyes widen before her expression turns superior and calculating. A small hand curls around my bicep, and I look down into Katie’s sweet, smiling face.

  She looks stunning in an ice-blue dress that brings out the color of her eyes, and dips low enough to give me the greatest view of her perfect cleavage. The only makeup Katie has on is eyelash shit, something that makes her cheeks glow, and lip gloss.

  And she blows Francesca out of the water.

  “That seat that I found for us was already taken,” she says, either oblivious to Francesca’s presence or ignoring it entirely. “It was too small for you, anyway. I would have had to sit on your lap in my tiny dress.” I can feel Francesca stiffen, that’s how close she is to us, before Katie’s eyes turn in her direction. “Oh sorry,” Katie grins at her. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

  Francesca’s dark eyes narrow as she scrutinizes Katie and then she reaches out a perfectly manicured hand. “It’s not a problem. I’m Francesca. Ryan’s ex-girlfriend,” she purrs like it’s a badge of honor. Does she not get the ex part?

  “I’m Kate,” Katie smiles, shaking her hand, before tilting her head to the side like she’s thinking long and hard about this. It’s an act. I know it is, but it’s also driving Francesca wild that Katie didn’t instantly admit to recognizing her name. “Francesca?” she muses. “Oh right.” She looks up to me. “You mentioned her once, I think.”

  Francesca is fuming, and since she majored in bitch, I’m a little worried as to where this is headed.

  “Well, I’m sure you haven’t known Ryan all that long, since I’ve never heard of you.”

  I laugh, running my hand around Katie’s tiny waist, pulling her into my side and kissing the corner of her mouth. “I’ve technically known Katie since I was ten and she was six, but we didn’t reunite until recently. Anyway, it was nice seeing you again, Francesca.” I turn my back to her and face Katie full on. “Don’t worry about the seat,” I shrug. “It’s fine. Though the thought of you sitting on my lap all night in that dress does sound good,” I smile, kissing her irresistible lips again. Her damn gloss tastes like raspberries. “The bartender is backed up, but our drink order is in the queue.”

  Katie waves me off. “Great. I’m in no rush. This bar is fun.”

  “Ryan?” Francesca places her hand on my arm, turning me toward her. “I need to talk to you. Surely your little friend here understands.” Her eyes glare in on Katie before turning back to me with what is meant to look like an adoringly seductive grin.

  “Not interested.”

  “Ryan, you can’t be serious about this flavor of the moment.” She looks at Katie. “No offense honey, but before me he was a fuck ‘em and leave ‘em sort of guy.”

  “Stop it, Francesca,” I warn.

  “No, it’s fine,” Katie says to me with her sweet smile. “You two should talk. I’ll just run to the ladies’ room.”

  “Katie—”

  “Ryan, just let her go. Clearly, she wants to,” Francesca says, stepping into me.

  I step back, toward Katie, who crooks her finger, drawing my head down to her height. “Talk to her, Ryan,” Katie says in my ear. “It’s not a problem, and if you decide you want her back, well, I get it. She’s beautiful, and clearly still interested.”

  She kisses my cheek, and before I can say anything in response, she’s gone. Now I’m fucking furious because Francesca just made my Katie feel like she’s less than she is, and I can’t stand that.

  I turn on Francesca, ready to unleash holy hell on her. “What the fuck, Franny? How dare you speak to her like that?” My hands are fisted at my sides. The people standing around us all turn to look, but I don’t care.

  They can look all they want.

  She waves me off like it was nothing, placing her hands on her hips. “Oh please,” she steps into me again. “I’ve missed you, Ryan. So much.” Her brown eyes, that I once thought were the be-all, end-all, shine up at me. “We were so good together.”

  “Good together?” I scoff. “Franny, you cheated on me.” I don’t really want to focus on that right now. It’s hardly the point, and it doesn’t matter. I shake my head slightly. “Whatever. I’m happy with Katie. Please, Franny, just go.”

  “You can’t be serious about her, Ryan.” Her mouth forms into a frustrated frown. “You barely know her.” She’s stomping her foot at me like a child who was denied a new toy.
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  “I am serious about her. I’m fucking in love with her,” I point in the direction that Katie just went. “Katie is all I could ever want. So. Go.”

  “You can’t be in love with her,” she yells at me, pointing a finger into my chest. “She’s using you for your money.” She leans back, crossing her arms like she’s just made the point of the century. “Or can’t you tell what she’s really after?”

  I laugh out, humorlessly, crossing my arms the way she has. “Sort of the pot calling the kettle black, don’t you think?” She looks confused. So dumb. What did I ever see in this girl? “Do you know where she and I slept last night? In the back of her damn Prius. She never complained once, because she thought it was cool and romantic.” Franny rolls her eyes like that’s beneath her, muttering something that sounds like whatever, but it’s hard to hear in this stupid bar. “Katie could give two shits about money. In fact, she hates it when I spend any on her, which I love doing by the way.” Yes, I’m being petulant, sue me. Francesca scoffs, turning her head to the side, her eyes rolling again. “She likes to run and hike and watch the sunrise, and she’s goddamn perfect. I want her,” I point again toward the bathroom. “Not you.”

  “She’ll never love you the way I do,” she sneers. “You think you love her, but she doesn’t know you like I do.”

  “Oh. You mean she won’t cheat on me with my friend? Or try to suck my money dry while complaining that what she has isn’t enough and that she needs more?” I calm down.

  Why am I entertaining this? Francesca is old news and I’m so done with her.

  “But really, I should thank you. Without you being a cheating, money-grubbing, narcissist, I probably never would have gotten together with her.” Does it make me a dick if I’m being completely honest with her? Probably, yeah.

  Francesca tosses her silky mane over her shoulder and stalks off. I’m not usually one for confrontation like that, but I have to admit, it felt really good to do that. The irony of all of this? I’m not even angry with Francesca. I could care less about her and my blowing up like that was misplaced.

  I’m angry with myself, and maybe with Katie a little too.

  Finally, the bartender places my whiskey and Katie’s martini down, and before he can walk off, I’m tossing my drink back and ordering two shots. Katie’s hand glides along my arm as she slides in next to me, her back leaning against the bar as she turns to face me. Her drink in hand, she takes a long pull then licks her lips.

  She always does that after she tastes something she likes.

  It’s sexy and adorable. Just like her.

  “Yummy. That’s good,” Katie twists, placing her drink on the bar behind her before turning back and scanning the large open bar behind me. “Where’s my new BFF?”

  I reach my arms around her, placing my hands on the bar on either side of her, essentially caging her in. Katie and I have been dancing around this thing between us, and that little confrontation with Francesca made me want to clear the air…well, for the most part, anyway.

  I know Katie doesn’t feel the same way about me as I feel about her, but I don’t want any more confusion.

  This may be a stupid move that backfires on me, but we’ll see.

  “Katie?” I say quietly, but loud enough so she can hear me over the constant hum of voices and the heavy drum and bass beat. I’m a few inches from her face, and her eyes are widened in surprise and anticipation. No doubt as a result of my expression. “Francesca is a non-issue. She’s gone and will never be a part of my life again.” The spark of pleasure in her eyes drives me forward. “But you need to understand something once and for all.”

  Her teeth sink into her lip as the tension between us builds.

  “I want you, Katie. Only you,” my tone softens, and I reach up to cup her cheek, her head leaning into my touch. “I’m crazy about you.”

  “You are?” she breathes, but it’s reluctant, as if she wants to hear the answer to the question, but is terrified of it all the same.

  I nod. “Yes, but I know you already know that.” She swallows hard, blinking up at me a few times. Her long dark lashes fanning her cheeks. “I’m not telling you this to pressure you into anything. I’m not asking you for anything. I know you’re not ready for that. I’m just making sure you know, so there’s no confusion going forward.”

  She swallows again and nods at me, her eyes glistening.

  She’s so damn gorgeous. Leaning in, my lips press against hers, and she instantly returns my kiss with the same level of intensity. When we pull back, she grabs my shirt, pulling me so we’re against each other, chest to chest.

  “I’m crazy about you too, Ryan,” she says, looking up at me, our eyes locked. “I am. That’s not what’s holding me back. I can’t…,” she looks down quickly before meeting my eyes once more. “I’m not ready, and I’m sorry about that. I wish I were different. I wish things were different because I’d keep you forever. Part of me even wants that. I’m just…,” she huffs out a heavy breath. “I’m just a mess.”

  “No, sweetheart, you’re so unbelievably amazing.” I wrap my arms around her, kissing her again. When we pull back, I can see the conflicted agony in her gorgeous blue eyes. “Let’s not talk about this anymore. You know how I feel and where I stand, and I know the same about you. Now we can put it aside and try to have some fun tonight.” I brush my lips against her jaw.

  “I’m good with that,” she smiles brightly, turning around for her drink only to notice the two shots I ordered are waiting for us. “Shots?” she throws me a raised brow.

  “Yup,” I raise a brow of my own. “You with me on this?”

  “Hells to the fuck yeah,” she laughs, bumping her hip into me. The serious mood from moments ago is gone, and we’re back to being playful.

  To being us. Even if being us hurts like a motherfucker.

  22

  Kate

  * * *

  I wake up the next morning sans clothing, with an alcohol-muddled brain and a mouth that feels like I swallowed sand. This is what two martinis and two shots gets me.

  Ugh.

  Rolling over onto my side, my hand slides to the spot next to me where Ryan usually sleeps, only to find it empty. Slowly I sit up, testing the waters to see just how roughed up I am. My head feels heavy, but not awful, and my stomach seems intact. In fact, I’m needing to get my hands on something greasy, stat.

  “Ryan?” I call out, pulling the sheets up to my chest.

  No answer.

  Crawling out of bed, I throw on a pair of yoga pants and his t-shirt since it’s on the floor and I like wearing his clothes. I think he likes it too. Walking through the doors into the living room, I find him sitting at the dining table, typing a mile a minute on his laptop while his cell phone is wedged between his shoulder and ear.

  “No, Luke. I can’t do that.” He’s listening, and I feel weird about standing here when he doesn’t know I can hear him. “Because I can’t,” his tone is firm, but not mean. “I’m not going to be in Seattle until the middle of next week, and after tomorrow I’m going to be in the middle of nowhere, so I have no idea what cell service I’ll have.” I start to walk toward him, but he is too engrossed in what he’s doing to notice. “You can handle it, Luke. I’ve known you to be very capable when it comes to wielding a computer’s wiles.” His eyes flash up to me and he smiles appreciatively, taking in what I’m wearing. “I gotta run. My distraction just got out of bed and I’d like to put her back in it.”

  I blush like a bastard, because I have no idea who this Luke is.

  He laughs at something the guy says and then hangs up the phone.

  “Morning, gorgeous.” He places his phone down, clicks another button or two on the keyboard, and then closes his laptop. “I like you in my shirt, but those pants have to go.”

  “But if they do then I’ll be naked underneath.” I hold my hand up to my open mouth, widening my eyes in mock horror.

  “True,” he nods solemnly. “But I’m afraid
I’m still going to need you to remove them.”

  Maintaining eye contact with him, I shimmy out of the offending pants, letting them rest on the floor next to me as I step out of them. “Now what, Master?”

  His eyes heat instantly.

  He likes it when I call him that, which I find just the tiniest bit amusing.

  “Come here and sit on my lap, straddling me.” He scoots his chair back, patting his thighs like I’m a puppy who needs to heel. I do as I’m instructed like a good little girl, and his hands slide up my naked thighs until they reach my ass where he adjusts my position to how he wants me. “Perfect,” he breathes in my ear. “Now your shirt, love. I want to look at this beautiful body before I have my way with it.”

  Damn. The dirty talk gets me every time.

  I remove his shirt from my body and then lean back in his arms so that my back is against the solid wood of the table. His eyes roam over me greedily, every freaking inch, and instead of feeling exposed or self-conscious, my blood heats like nothing else.

  “What about you?” I ask, tilting my head. “You’re wearing all of your clothes.” He is. He’s wearing running shorts and a worn gray tee.

  “We’ll get to me soon, but for now, I’m going to focus on you.”

  He lifts me off his lap in an effortless motion and sets my bare bottom down on the edge of the cool table. Now I feel exposed, especially when he spreads my legs wide open before dipping his head in between them.

  Holy mother of Moses.

  My back arches as my hands fly down to his thick hair. His mouth devours me, eating me out like I’m the best thing he’s ever tasted. Like he can’t get enough. He doesn’t stop until I’ve cried out his name a full two times. After we’re both completely sated, we shower and get ready to go out.

  “Can we go eat now?” I moan, running a brush through my hair. “I’m so hungry; I’m wasting away over here.”

  He chuckles at me. “Yes, I can see that clearly. If we don’t feed you soon, I’m afraid your health may suffer.”