Page 31 of Thirst For Me
I actually found myself entertaining the thought that I might’ve just met the woman of my dreams, and maybe this would be our messy, funny, sexy origin story.
What a load of shit.
Now I know the truth: that she was just way too good to be true.
That she’s actually the enemy.
That I let a stranger into my office at the bar, and into my home. She could’ve accessed or taken anything she could get her hands on.
A stranger ... who’s working with June.
She probably knew exactly who I was when she walked into my bar and played me.
I can’t even decide if I’m more pissed off about that or the fact that she seemed to have so much fun doing it.
I should’ve charged her for those fucking drinks.
“Man, are you gonna pout all day?” Jace wipes the back of his work glove across his sweaty forehead, scowling at me across the room. “I can hear you moping right over the music.”
He turned it way the fuck up a few minutes ago, and The Black Keys’ “Please Me (Till I’m Satisfied)” is rolling out the giant open holes in the primary bedroom where the new windows will soon be installed. The music can probably be heard clear across the cove.
“I didn’t know you could read my mind,” I mutter as he sets down the nail gun he’s been using, then lowers the volume on the music.
“What?”
“I said, I didn’t know you cared.”
“Of course I do. You’ve barely grunted two words at me all day. I’m getting lonely over here.” He eyes me where I’m kneeling on the floor, putting together a shelving unit and generally ignoring him. He sighs, digs in his pockets, lights a joint.
“Can you not?” I grouch. “It’s fucking Saturday.” Which means Kaylie’s not at school and could be around here anywhere. He knows this.
“Right,” he says and puts it out. “Forgot.”
“And you wonder why Tommy doesn’t want you around.”
He chuckles. “Your grandpa doesn’t want me around because I remind him too much of his misspent youth. In other words, his glory days.”
I snort. “Is that how you see it? I realize you’re fairly delusional at the best of times, but shit.”
He ignores that. “So, what happened? I take it all this sulking is about Miss Behaving, from last night?”
I don’t respond to that.
“She turn out to be married? Or just not interested? Was she sadly unaffected by your massive pecs and soulful blue eyes?”
“Soulful?”
“I’ve heard they’re quite captivating. Or, wait. Are we still pretending you’re not interested in her? I’m afraid I can’t keep up with your alarming and ever-increasing tolerance for self-denial.”
“I’m not denying anything. We spent the night together. But to be clear, I’mnotinterested.”
Jace seems unconvinced. But the last thing I am is interested. I’m so pissed at myself for being interested in the first place, I’m fuming. I seriously can’t believe I slept with the enemy, totally unaware. And now she’ll be sleeping right next door, according to her, in June Spencer’s “cozy private cottage.” For god knows how long.
A month? All summer? Longer?
As soon as I pin down June, which I will, I’ll find out how long that lease is. But how the hell do I convince such a stubborn, hateful old mule that it’s in her best interest to terminate it in favor of our original agreement?
“You’re doing it again,” says my annoyingly clairvoyant best friend.
