Page 62 of Bitter Rival

“The absolute worst,” I agree, although I don’t sound nearly as convincing as he did.

“It was a mistake,” he says, lowering me to the ground and backing away. He runs a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry. Won’t happen again.”

Of all the things I would have wanted him to apologize for, this kiss certainly wasn’t one of them.

He’s composed himself and looks like his cool, unruffled self again. Just as if that kiss never happened.

I’m not about to make a fool of myself again if that’s what he’s worried about. But I’m not going to let him get the last word in either. I’m not going down without a fight.

“Let’s just put it behind us and forget it ever happened. Not like it was all that memorable anyway,” I toss out.

Normally, I would look to see his reaction but I opt for a graceful exit instead and walk out the door with my kiss-bruised lips, his scent on my skin, and my head held high.

Fuck you, Beckett Heyward.

I refuse to be any man’s mistake.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Daisy

“Don’t make any plans today,” Beckett says on Sunday morning. “We’re going out.”

I spin to face him, the peanut butter knife still in my hand. “Out? Together?”

His gaze roams over my ratty T-shirt with a ripped collar and my cutoffs, and his lip curls with disdain.

Yep, everything is back to normal. He’s no longer the dashing knight on the white horse coming to my rescue or the Beast who kissed me in the library.

“You might want to change out of your rags, Cinderella.”

“First you defend my honor and now this.” My hand goes to my heart. “Are you asking me out on a date, Prince Charmless?”

He snorts and grabs one of his green juices from the fridge and twists off the lid. “I don’t date.”

“What a surprise,” I mutter. “What makes you think I would agree to go anywhere with you?”

It’s my one day off and I was planning to hit the beach and take photos of the surfers. Or just hang out and relax. On the beach.

“If you play your cards right, you’ll be able to buy that yacht.” His smile is positively wicked.

What brings the most joy to an evil mastermind? Revenge.

Curiosity killed the cat and wouldn’t you know, it gets the best of me too.

Over breakfast, I find out that Robert had a feud with the owner of a neighboring vineyard. The block of syrah grape vines had been cut down to the root and although Robert had no real proof, he was convinced that Michael Castellano was behind it.

“Why would someone do that?” I ask. “How could anyone destroy innocent grapevines?”

Beckett gives me a look that says, You of all people should know better than to act all naïve and innocent.

“So you want to sell the vineyard to Michael Castellano.” It’s not a wild guess. He told me as much on Friday night. Before the kiss that we’re now calling a mistake.

Not that I’m bitter. It’s barely even crossed my mind.

“Yep.”

“I’m not so sure he deserves it. Anyone who would even be implicated in a crime against grapevines should not be a vineyard owner.”

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