Page 4 of The Keeper

Besides, it wasn’t her fault Ghost had, well, ghosted me.

“Really?” she asked, lifting the hat enough to serve me a healthy dose of side-eye. “That’s funny because you’re doing that squinty blinking thing you do when you’re trying not to cry.”

“It’s just—is there something on my face?”

She scanned me before shaking her head. “You look great. Why?”

“Are you sure? There are no bats in the cave or Alice Cooper mascara thing going on?” I flared my nostrils and lifted my chin for inspection.

“Noooo,” she replied, drawing out the vowel with a giggle.

I threw my hands up. “I don’t get it! My hair and makeup are good. My swimsuit is covering all the appropriate bits. Even if it wasn’t, I can’t imagine a biker—or any man for that matter— being too prudish to enjoy a little nip slip.”

Her gaze dipped to my cleavage before returning to my face. “I think I’m missing something. Is this about Ghost?”

“Maybe… I don’t know.” I sighed. “Am I going crazy, or does it seem like Duke and GQ are trying to avoid me at all costs? And please don’t think I mean that in like a jealous way or anything, but it’s just weird to be ignored completely, you know? They said more to the bartenders than they have me, and I can’t help but think it’s got something to do with why he didn’t show up. I’ve been racking my brain, trying to figure out what I said or did that might have made him not want to come.”

“Don’t,” Ivy warned, squeezing my shoulder. “Him not coming says more about him than it does you. And for all we know, there might be a solid reason.”

“Yeah, like he met someone else at the dinner,” I grumbled, tracing a line in the pavement with my big toe.

“My money’s on a violent case of food poisoning—what?” she asked when I rolled my eyes. “He was following you around like a puppy all day, Piper. Men don’t do shit like that and then flip a switch. I think he wanted to come, but the projectile vomiting and violent diarrhea kept him in the room. It would also explain why Duke and GQ were so vague about why he wasn’t there.”

My lip curled in disgust. “Thanks so much for that visual. And they could have just been following the bro code and covering for him while he was off boning someone else. Whatever. It doesn’t matter now.”

She snorted. “Sure it doesn’t, Pinocchio.”

“Speaking of projectile vomiting,” I said, steering the conversation back to her. “Are you good, or should I cut you off?”

“All good, Officer. I’m just past theI’ve always wanted to be with twomen at oncestage of inebriation,but nowhere close tolet’s go back to your room and try out the Eiffel Tower position.”

“You sure about that? Because from where I was sitting, it looked like you were quickly approaching theI’ve forgotten all the reasons why hot tub sex is a bad ideastage.”

After glancing back to ensure both men were still in the infinity pool, she admitted, “It’s a social experiment I’m working on. Men are typically on their best behavior on a first date, and by the time you start to see the red flags, you’re usually too far in, right? Well, I thought, why not see if I can get them to flash those warning signs up front and save some time?”

“By getting drunk?” I hissed in horror.

“Bypretendingto get drunk,” she corrected, tapping the side of her nose.

“Take tonight, for example. I’ve had five margaritas, but only three contained alcohol. You know when I said I needed to run to the ladies’ room? Well, I went back to the bar and instructed the bartender to make ours virgins after the third drink. With each round, they see me getting progressively less inhibited and attribute it to the alcohol. Meanwhile, I’m observing every reaction and comment, gauging what type of men they are.”

“And here I thought they were just skimping on the tequila,” I muttered dryly, used to being dragged unwillingly into Ivy’s little experiments. “Don’t keep me in suspense. What’s the verdict?”

She shrugged. “Don’t know yet, but if the hat comments and them ignoring you completely are any indication, they’ll likely fail.”

“You’re the only person I know who’s working even when she’s not working.” I shook my head and turned around, only to collide with a wall of rock-solid muscle.

The impact knocked me off balance, and I flailed my arms like a cartoon character, desperately trying to regain my footing.

Before I could bust my ass on the wet concrete, which would have been the cherry on top of an already shit sundae, a pair of strong arms locked around my waist to steady me, and I followed the well-defined curve of a bicep up to a pair of eyes that were now as dark as an abyss.

I swallowed hard. “You.”

THREE

PIPER

Ivy & Piper’s Guide to Life Rule Number Twenty:

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