Page 51 of Perfect Praise

“No?”

“Girls that want deep don’t want me. The girls who want me want the lifestyle I bring them. In fact, it’s simple. They don’t really want to talk to me. They want the gifts and the trips and the boat and the private plane. When they realize I won’t give them the spotlight, they move on. I don’t really want to talk to them. I just need someone to keep my bed warm sometimes. Win-win.”

“Which is exactly what Maren isn’t,” he says, like I haven’t thought of that. “She’s still hung up on Russ of all people after being cheated on. She doesn’t want the spotlight. Plus, you don’t even like talking to me. You really think she’ll be able to just have sex?”

I raise my eyebrows, watching him line up his shot. “I do, actually.”

“Is she a groupie in disguise? Bouncing around from golfer to golfer?” Conrad hits the cue ball cleanly and lands his purple ball in the side pocket. “Please don’t tell me she’s fucking you to make Russell jealous so he wants her back.”

I clench my teeth. Maren isn’t thinking about Russ right now, that’s for fucking sure. “I don’t think that’s what’s on her mind,” I tell him.

“So, she’s going to want to talk,” he says. “And get to know you. Then what?”

“She already knows about my mom,” I say, raising my voice to an angry pitch. “So what?”

Conrad spins on his feet. “You told her?”

“Yeah, we ran into her when Maren was looking at apartments. I wasn’t about to let her live where my strung-out mother does god knows what. So, that’s why she’s here, which I know you were wondering. It’s not just hiding her away from Russell and that reality show. I told her a personal detail about myself, and yet, she didn’t catch any feelings for me.”

He hesitates, letting his shoulders drop. Then he picks up the blue chalk and rubs the end of his pool stick with it, deep in thought.

“Did you tell her about you and Russell?”

“No. She knows we have a history and that it doesn’t involve her.”

His scoff makes me grip both of my hands around my pool stick harder.

“Why the hell do you care so much anyway?” I ask.

He pauses. His eyes look softer than a second ago, but he shakes his head, coming back from whatever he was thinking. “Man, I just thought it was a bad idea. She’s not as strong as you, and Russell did some awful shit to her. Just like he did some awful shit to you.” He sighs, eyes meeting mine. “I don’t want you to hurt her like that.”

“She’s a big girl, Conrad. And fuck you. I’m not going out of my way to hurt her, and I think I just heard you compare me to Russell Ashe.Itried to protect her, and you know it.” I throw my pool stick on the table. The sound bounces around the room as I turn and stalk out into the kitchen, where I lean my back against the island.

A few seconds later, I hear Conrad’s righteous ass take the front stairs to go up to bed, where his wife is waiting for him.

Once upon a time, he was right there next to me, fucking every girl he laid eyes on and hurting some of them—until he laid eyes on Blake.

And I’m genuinely happy for him to have found love. They’re devoted to each other, but we don’t all get so lucky.

I know I don’t have the kind of personality that a woman hanging around me wants long-term. I know what I’m good for, and I keep myself in my lane of women so no one gets hurt.

Maren knows what she’s signing up for, and it’s notme.She’d probably take anyone. I’m not someone she wants falling in love with her.

“Locke.”

I jump and turn to see Elise tucked up on the oversized chair in the dark with her Kindle glowing in her lap.

“I didn’t know you were awake,” I say, flicking my eyes toward the pool room. “Did you hear that?”

She shrugs. “You two were being loud.”

“Right.” I run a hand through my hair. “I’m sorry. That was, uh… nothing.”

Her smile is illuminated by her screen. “Listen, Locke, I know you don’t want girl advice from your aunt, but Idoknow you better than anyone. If you would let yourself open up, you might be pleasantly surprised sometimes that it’s okay to be vulnerable and that it’s okay to intensely feel for someone. Not all obsessions are bad. And just so you know, Maren watches you when you’re not looking as often as you watch her when she’s not looking.”

There’s no way to tell my aunt it’s because Maren wants to use me to fulfill her sexual fantasies—or do they make a card for that?

She stands and makes her way to the stairs, pausing at the doorway to look back at me when I say, “Hey, Elise?” I don’t tell her nearly enough. “I love you.”

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