Page 47 of And Then Came You

“See? This is why I should have stayed home. He doesn’t want me here, Caroline.”

Caroline clears her throat, but I see the smirk crossing her face. “How do you feel about Sam?”

“Right now? I think he’s an asshole who hates every guy who ever looks at me. Hell, every guy who ever says hello to me. Not that there are many, mind you. That weekend I spent with him and Almira? He told me how lovely Gianni was the entire ride over to his house. Great, a nice guy. I meet him and guess what? He is lovely, just like Sam said. But suddenly, Sam has to leave and reminds me on the way out how I’m nothing like those people and to stay away from Gianni because he’s a terrible player.” I rub my hand over my brow, a headache brewing. “It’s not like Gianni was even interested in me.”

“On the contrary, he was. He’s also the furthest thing from a player.”

“Why would Sam say that, then?”

“My best guess? He’s jealous.”

“Of what?”

“Gianni making a move on you.”

“But why? Sam has women all over him. All the time, I might add. Why deny me one interested man?”

“You’renot all over him. Maybe he wants you to be.”

“Trust me, that’s not it. Besides, Sam and I don’t have that kind of relationship.” My fingers drum the table as my aggravation mounts. “I’m not anything like the women he normally dates. Look at Almira. She’s gorgeous and ten feet tall and owns half of the Middle East. I barely own my condo. Trust me, he isn’t interested.”

“You aren’t anything like those women. You’re classy, caring, and everything Sam never knew he needed. And trust me, Lexi, he is interested.” She sits forward, grasping my forearm. “Besides, you’re interested, too.”

“I’m not—”

“Don’t bother. I already know you are.”

No sense hiding it from my friend. Now I can only hope the man of the hour hasn’t caught on. “Does he know?”

“Definitely not. Come on, don’t ruin a great weekend with an awesome chick,—she points at herself—“because of Samuel Bernard. Promise me.”

“Promise,” I grumble.

* * *

“See? Wasn’t this worth it?” Caroline clinks her glass against mine, yelling over the thumping of the bass.

I hate to admit that she’s right. I rarely get out of the house and almost never go to a club, so it’s a blast getting dolled up and fielding some appreciative glances as I walk past.

Plus, I can’t remember how long it’s been since I last danced, something I used to enjoy the hell out of in my twenties.

“You’re right. Do you think Sam and Almira will show later?”

Caroline shrugs, her gaze on the dance floor. “Doubtful. She seemed pretty intent on having some alone time with Sam.”

“Sam said they were finished.”

“Doesn’t mean he isn’t still screwing her.” Noting my expression, she sends me a sympathetic look. “It also might mean nothing.”

“Not my business,” I lie, swallowing back the nausea at her statement, although it’s hardly out of line. Caroline is likely correct—they’re dating, or fucking, or some amalgamation of the two.

Me? The only thing I seem capable of raising lately with Sam is his ire.

Better off they stay at the hotel, while us single ladies party it up.

“Want to dance?” I ask, nodding toward the DJ booth.

“You go ahead. I’m running to the bathroom. I’ll be right there.”

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