Page 15 of Hook Up

So, we started playing house, which has now morphed into a macabre version of its former self—pretty coats of paint to cover the crumbling walls of our relationship.

And my digs are far fancier than her Los Angeles apartment. It is a beautiful house, but it never felt like home. A home is filled with more than upscale furnishings and top-of-the-line electronics. It oozes love and laughter and warmth.

My house has none of those things, although I pray one day it will. One day I’ll meet a woman who makes me feel like Greer Hammond did that New Year’s Eve. I was a fucking king. I was her king.

The shortest reign in history.

Pausing by my gate, I let my gaze linger over the lagoon-style pool. Once again, my thoughts flit to Greer. She loved basking by her parent’s pool and I could spend hours watching her. Her body was beautiful at eighteen. At thirty, she was superb. Her curves had blossomed, and the feel of them under my hands as I kissed her was my definition of perfection.

Greer Hammond will always hold a piece of my heart. But she’s gone, slipped through my grasp, and married to some doctor on Long Island… or wherever she’s living now.

Greer, I would marry in a heartbeat. Everyone else can sit down and shut up.

It doesn’t do me any good to live in the past, even if those hours with her still make my mouth water. The way she kissed, the way she tasted. No one else has ever come close.

With a grunt, I step inside, forcing all thoughts of Greer to the back of my mind. There’s an eerie silence inside my house, odd considering Mandi’s teacup poodle is usually yapping at my feet by now.

I know she’s here. Her car—rather,mycar, is in the garage, along with that strange vehicle in the driveway. Who knows?

I stroll to the fridge but pause with the door open as I hear an all too familiar sound emanating from upstairs.

The grunting and low moans indicate one thing, and I’m pretty damn sure it isn’t a porno party.

I wait for the anger to sweep over me, but all I feel is an immense relief. Mandi has inadvertently handed me my ticket to freedom. Now I can hand her walking papers, ending this facade of a relationship.

I climb the steps toward the guest suite, pushing the door open with my foot. “Nice of you to use the guest room.”

There’s a feeling of power when you slide behind the wheel of a race car, but it pales compared to the thrill I feel as Mandi and her boy toy leap apart.

Hey, they stacked the wood. I simply lit the match on the tinderbox.

Time to watch it burn.

“Ryder. You’re home early.” Mandi’s face pales with shock, her eyes darting to all corners of the room.

“Why does everyone say that when they’re caught cheating? Is that the best you can do? Honestly, I deserve something a bit more original.”

Crossing my arms over my chest, I stifle a laugh as they scamper about, grabbing their clothes. The guy can’t be a day over twenty and looks like he’s seen a ghost as he runs past me, his hands covering his dick.

Seconds later, the front door slams. Easy come and easy go.

Now it’s time to deal with the real problem. Pulling out my phone, I dial my travel agent. “I want a one-way ticket to Los Angeles, please. Tonight, if possible.”

Mandi’s eyes widen, but I ignore her non-verbal cues until I finish purchasing the ticket. With a final click, her fate is sealed.

“What are you doing, Ryder?”

“Putting you on a plane. You’re going home tonight. You can thank me later for sending you first class.”

“I live here.”

“Correction. You lived here. Now, you’re homeless. Better call your Mom because that friend of yours doesn’t look like he can afford a mailbox, much less an apartment.”

Mandi moves toward me, but I hold up my hands, stopping her mid-step. “We need to talk about this. I know how it looks—”

I bark out a laugh. “It looks like you were fucking someone else. Do you know why? Because youwerefucking someone else.”

Tears fill her light blue eyes, but she must be insane if she thinks I’m going to pity her predicament. “Please—”

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