Page 137 of Love Me Fierce

Quinn shakes her head. “He’s hotter than sin, and you said he’s single.”

“He has the personality of a jackass.”

“So? We’re talking about rebound sex here.”

“Ew, no.” I shake my head. “Definitely not withhim.” A joltof electricity races down my thighs. “Plus what if sex isn’t any better with someone else?”

Her eyes flash. “There’s only one way to find out, right?”

“What if I’m the problem?” It comes out soft, and a part of me wishes I could take it back. But this is my best friend. With my divorce final, it means I could put myself out there again, if and when I’m ready. But how can I be ready when a part of me is terrified?

Quinn takes me by the shoulders and locks eyes with me. “You’re perfect, Megs. Just as you are. He never treated you with the care and love you deserve, and I don’t just mean in the bedroom.”

“You’re right.”

She pulls me into a hug. “I hate that it still hurts.”

“Me too.” I fight the emotions starting to sting my nose. “But hey, we’re not gonna mope, right?” I step back from her and smile.

“Right.” She beams. “Quick shower, then it’s margarita time.”

When I join Quinn downstairs,she’s already putting the finishing touch on two of her scratch margaritas.

We carry them to the deck, where the lowering sun is painting the sky with crimson and a deepening purple. I’m so distracted by the pretty view that I don’t see the rattlesnake until Quinn shrieks.

My drink goes flying and Quinn grabs me around the middle, yanking me back inside. Heart pounding, I slam the sliding glass door shut.

The snake is coiled between two of my big flowerpots. My heart is beating so fast I can’t hear the snake’s rattle.

“Wait a minute,” Quinn says. “It’s not moving.”

Reality hits me. I ball my fists and let out an anguished moan.

“What?” Quinn asks.

I slide the door open and stride over to the rubber snake. I’m so stupid.

Next door, a hearty guffaw draws myattention.

I glare at Linden, who is staring down at me, his eyes bright. “Not funny!” I shout.

“Come on,” he says, holding his middle. “It was so fake. Rattlesnakes don’t coil like that at night when it’s cold. They don’t have the energy. He’d just slink off somewhere and hide.”

“Like I’m supposed to know that!”

“Now you’ll never forget it. I’m helpful like that.”

I pick up his stupid fake snake and fling it in his direction. Then I gather my empty cup and storm back inside.

Quinn is waiting with another drink.

“Now do you see why I can’t stand him?” I take a long gulp of my margarita. It’s zesty and perfectly sweetened, the bite from the tequila speaking directly to the headache brewing at the base of my neck.

“He’s still hot as blazes.”

“He’s still a jackass.”

“So this was payback for deflating his basketballs?” she asks, unable to keep a straight face.

---