Page 3 of Her Filthy Mistake

“No. It’s not. But you need to stop following me around like a love-starved puppy. You’re too young for me. And even if you weren’t, you’re not my type.”

“You’re right,” I bit back and stepped forward, making him stumble backward to keep from touching me. “I’m classy, and you go for the drunk, drugged-out groupie type that’ll straddle whatever pole gets them a free ride.” I laughed to keep the tears at bay. “And I guess yours wasn’t getting her anywhere, was it?” I straightened my shoulders and flipped my black hair behind my shoulder. “Did she make you watch as she did your best friend? I bet that hurt. But it couldn’t have happened to a better guy. I hope she gave you a parting gift. A nice pus-oozing dick to match your personality.” I spun on my heel and marched toward our cabin.

Unfortunately, it was hard to hold my head high when I was stomping on burning sand, and my swimsuit bottom was wedged up my ass. But I held my own the best I could.

This is the last time I’ll swoon over Jace Michael Graham. The rock god.

What an epic joke. He’s 28 years old and lives on a bus. So, what if his abs have abs, and you can drown in his sea-blue eyes that remind you of rocking in a hammock on the beach? Or that he sings like a fallen angel. Asshole.

I could’ve sworn the previous night, when he was playing his guitar under the stars as our family gathered around a crackling bonfire, that his words were for me. His eyes never left mine. But it was an illusion. The same fantasy he puts on for the stage.

What a joke. And apparently, I’m not the only one that thinks that, or he’d have a record deal by now.

The airplane jolts, and I scream, sitting upright and glancing in all directions. Son of a bitch. I clutch my hip where the seatbelt that I refused to remove bites into my skin.

“Calm down, drama queen.” My brother laughs and slaps his thigh. “You crack me up. I can’t wait to get to our bungalow and tell Jace how you almost hit your head on the roof of the plane, thinking we were going to crash.”

“Jace?” My mouth barely moves as panic claws at my chest. Mom told me he wasn’t coming. I’ve spent the last two plus years avoiding him. If he was attending a family event, I showed up after he left or begged off with a headache the second he arrived.

“He’s crashing in our bungalow. There weren’t any more available units by the time he found out he could get away. So, I offered to let him share our place.”

Fuck my life.

Chapter Two

Jace

My brother knows how to pick vacation locations. This place is gorgeous. The inside of the main resort is spacious and opulent. And it gets better from there. Outside of the bar is an infinity pool flowing out into the ocean. I’ve seen one in Vegas, but it sure didn’t flow into the ocean.

“Here you go.” The bartender hands me a fruity drink–sans alcohol–with a bright red umbrella.

“Thank you.” I lift the straw to my lips and suck, letting the ice-cold drink freeze my insides. The contrast between the crushed ice and the balmy air causes a jolt in my gut.

“Do you need anything else?” He arches an eyebrow as he nods toward the whiskey bottle on the bar top ledge.

“No.” I shake my head a fraction of an inch. I haven’t drunk a drop of alcohol in over two years. “I’m good.”

“Yes, Sir.” He snatches the bottle into his hand and moves to another customer.

A hand settles on my shoulder as I deposit the drink back onto the bar. “Glad you could make it, Little Man.”

“Little Man?” I grumble as I spin to face my older brother, Landon.

He laughs, making the corners of his eyes crinkle, and hauls me off the stool and into his arms. “You’ll always be Little Man to me.”

“Yeah.” I shake my head and clap his back in a bro hug. There’s no point in fighting it. I’m twelve years younger, and when our mother was killed in a car accident when I was six, he stepped in and raised me until I dropped out of high school at 16. It doesn’t matter that I’m 30, I’ll always be a little man to him. Both our fathers were out of the picture long before Mom died.

He pulls back, clasps my shoulders, and studies me. There’s a flash of concern in his eyes, and I rotate my shoulders. “I’m still clean. I’ve been off coke and booze for over two years. I’m good.” I’d slowed down the two years prior but stopped cold turkey when I moved to Las Vegas.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.” I grind my teeth together at the question remaining in his eyes and nod to the drink the bartender deposited in front of me. “It’s alcohol-free.”

Not that I blame him for wondering if I’m telling the truth. I spent years in a blur of late-night partying, playing in dives, snorting coke, and getting drunk off my ass. It’s not like I’m proud of those years, either.

He presses his lips together and stands back. “Good. I’m glad you could come.”

“Thanks for inviting me. I’m sure Carly was on the fence about it.” Landon’s wife has put up with him supporting me and worrying about me since they got together eight years ago, but she can’t be my biggest fan. Hell, I don’t have a biggest fan.

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