Page 41 of Best Laid Plans

"No, thank you." I went down the stairs and was dismayed when Anson followed me.

I lived on Jones Street in a gorgeous historic building. I'd come far, far away from that crappy studio apartment, where I used to cook him dinner on a single-burner stove. A part of me wanted to show him how I'd risen in the world, but another wanted him far away from me, because every time I saw him, I wanted him despite who he was and what he'd done.

Chapter 17

Anson

"Are you dating this guy who goes to sex clubs?" I asked, falling into step with Nova.

"Anson, I'm literally five minutes from home. Go away."

"What happened to Mr. Larue?"

"We're not at work," she clipped, her pace brusque. How could she walk like that in those skinny heels? But damn, they made her legs and ass look amazing.

We were speed-walking through the heart of Savannah's historic district, with its cobblestone streets shaded by centuries-old live oaks draped in Spanish moss.

"Nova, we need to talk," I said softly.

She walked ahead of me, and then turned suddenly and stopped, so I almost crashed into her.

"Talk," she ordered.

"What if I can forgive you?"

She cocked an eyebrow. "For what?"

"For—"

"Don't you dare say stealin', 'cause, Anson Larue, I stole nothin' from you, ever. The fact that you thought that broke my heart. I thought you knew me, but I was wrong about that, and about you."

There was such fire in her. It made my dick hard. I liked a woman who stood up to me. I liked an intelligent woman who could hold her own. I liked Nova.

A few people walked by us, watching us with curiosity. "Can we go somewhere private?" I requested.

She looked me for a long moment, and then turned around, and started to walk fast. "My place is close by."

I was relieved that she didn't ask me to go fuck myself.

How had I become the bad guy in this story? She was the one who broke us up. She knew how much I valued honesty, and hell, that's what attracted me to her. She was always straight with me. Open. But what the fuck did I know?

We walked silently, our footsteps loud.

Nova's apartment building had wrought-iron balconies that exuded old-world charm, and a brick exterior that I could see had been painstakingly restored.

She took me to her apartment on the third floor. Her heels didn't seem to stop her from taking the stairs instead of the elevator.

I was reminded of the times when we'd done this same thing. Then, her apartment hadn't been in such a nice and clean building. That had been a dive with hookers and druggies, crying babies, and the smell of weed and urine. But she was never embarrassed about it or asked me to help her live in a better place. It wouldn't have been a problem. I was a Larue. We owned a lot of the rental real estate in Sentinel. Hell, we owned most of the town. The one time I'd suggested I could find her a better place, she'd shut it down.

"I live where I can afford it," she said. "When I graduate and get a job, I'll live in a nice place. For now, this will do."

It looked like she had found that nice place.

She didn't have a purse like most women I knew. Even when she came to Sentinel, she had a backpack.

There was something extraordinary about how Nova carried herself—she was confident, yes, but it didn't seem fake. It appeared to have been hard won.

She pulled a key from a pocket in her dress, along with her phone, and opened her door. Immediately, she walked in without waiting for me, turned on a light.

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