Page 9 of Best Part of Me

“Thanks,” she mumbles, pulling the jacket tighter over her shoulders and nibbling on a cracker.

“So, wanna tell me what happened back there?” I ask, mostly trying to change topics because this impending erection is becoming uncomfortable in the fitted suit pants.

“I don’t know, I guess I panicked.”

“Bullshit. I don’t buy it.”

She whips up her head to look at me. But her surprised expression doesn’t last. She yields, and her eyes soften.

“Fine.” Leaning back on her hands, she continues, “By the time I realized Chris wasn’t the one for me, we were caught up in all the wedding plans. I didn’t know how to end it. And you know me, I don’t like letting people down.”

I do know her. She’s the kindest person I’ve ever met. Telling Chris she didn’t want to marry him had to be one of the hardest things she’s ever done.

“If you ask me, you did him a favor by ending it now and saving him from what would likely be a fucking miserable marriage.”

“I’m not so sure he agrees.” She holds up her phone. “I’ve got about a hundred texts from him already.”

“One day he’ll understand. Marrying someone because you don’t want to hurt them is the shittiest reason I’ve ever heard of. Not that I’m ever planning on getting married, but isn’t marriage supposed to be for love and all that shit?”

She nods but smiles. “I’m shocked,” she says in a mocking tone, “Ladies’-Man-Mav doesn’t plan on ever getting married?”

I groan, rolling my eyes. Camille and Rosie started that nickname back in high school. I hated it, so of course it stuck. Maybe I mostly hated the truth to it. I’ve only had two serious relationships, one in high school and one in college. Then I finally woke up and got wise. Realized I didn’t need a long-term relationship.One and doneis my forte. No woman has given me that spark. No woman has held my interest. And as eager as they are to satisfy me sexually, they always fall short.

Except some of this is a lie.

What no one knows, not even Jones, is I haven’t had sex in over eight months. Eight months and five days, because yes, I’m fucking counting. No one goes that long without counting. The day I opened my mailbox and found Camille’s Save the Date card amongst the stack of junk mail was the death of my sex life.

Even though I knew she was marrying Chris, and had set the wedding date, that tiny paper card somehow sealed it in concrete. Camille was going to marry another man. And I’d missed my chance with her.

Camille is the brightest fucking woman I know. She brings comfort and joy when she enters a room. And maybe a bit of chaos. She keeps me on my toes. And I can only imagine she’s a wildcat in bed. But Camille is off-limits, so I don’t let my mind sit on that fantasy for long.

“I’ll never say never. But let’s just say, it would take the right woman in my bed for me to commit,” I finally say.

“Maybe the right woman hasn’t been in your bed yet,” she says, her tone suggestive.

I swallow, narrowing my eyes.Best friend’s little sister. Best friend’s little sister.Reminding myself of this detail is getting fucking harder than my dick right now. Having her in my bed is forbidden. This banter between us is nothing new, but it’s toeing the line we’ve never crossed.

It feels like a game of fire.

And we can be sure, this is a game that won’t end with a winner. Either way, someone loses.

CHAPTER3

Camille

“Helmet.” Maverick’s brows lift with seriousness.

His expression is cute. Too cute. And I should be too distraught right now to notice.

Grumbling, I snatch the goofy helmet from Maverick that he insists I wear for the rest of our ride. He didn’t seem to care back at the vineyard. But it makes me think of that scene fromHow to Lose a Guy in 10 Dayswhere Matthew McConaughey’s character gives Kate Hudson’s character the goofy helmet before they get on his scooter, and I chuckle to myself. That movie is a fucking masterpiece.

Back on the bike, instead of allowing my overanxious brain to worry about Chris, the expensive wedding, and the family and friends I just abandoned, I take in the view of the open road before me. Despite the cool air whipping against my face, it’s warm for fall in Colorado. The beer I drank has worked its way through my veins, heating me up even more so. The maples and aspens leaves are beginning to change from green to yellows and reds along the sides of the road. Fall is my favorite season, which is why Chris and I planned our wedding for now.

As Maverick steers the motorcycle toward Maple Ridge, my first thought is he’s taking me home. And suddenly, this whole knight-in-shining-armor bit feels like a disappointment. Though I’m not entirely sure where I thought he’d take me. Maybe drop me off at the airport and I’d take my honeymoon solo. Or maybe, I could ask him to come with me.

I shake that last thought from my head. Maverick and I holed up together in a hut in the Maldives surrounded by the magic of the crystal-blue ocean while wearing very little clothing would not be a good idea. Scratch that—it would be fucking taboo.

In this moment, I don’t care about the romantic setting of the Maldives. In fact, I couldn’t care less about sun-kissed skin, tropical drinks, or making love in a secluded hut. Give me cool mornings, hot coffee, changing colors, and pumpkin ales.

---