Page 29 of Jilted

Wilder walked over and shook hands with my dad. “Thank you for the beer, Harry.”

“Anytime. Come back again, son.”

He thumbed over his shoulder, gesturing to the door. “You want a ride home?”

Dad waved him off. “I’m good. I’ll jump on the subway.”

“You sure? I’m driving one of my dad’s cars. He collects old classics. This one is something else—a ’64 Pontiac GTO.”

Dad’s mouth dropped open. “No shit? My dad had a ’64 back in ’64. Loved that damn car.”

Wilder gestured to the door. “Come on then.”

“You sure? I don’t want you to go out of your way…”

My father might’ve asked the question, but he was already untying his apron.

“Positive.”

Wilder waited for Dad to come around the bar. He turned back to me as he pushed open the door for my father and winked. “See you soon, Cupcake.”

9WILDER

“Shit.”I looked down at my vibrating phone and groaned, rubbing my forehead.Melanie Harper. I’d completely forgotten I’d texted her last week, asking her to hang out when I got back to London. I’d been traveling back and forth so much, I didn’t even realize it was Tuesday. Maybe she was canceling? Maybe I didn’t even have to waste time thinking this through?

But when I swiped to read the message, a picture popped up. I blew out two cheeks full of air. Melanie was lying in a bathtub, sudsy bubbles covering mostly everything—except two stiff nipples sticking out of the water.

Melanie:Getting ready for our date tonight. My place or yours?

I’d asked her to go out for Chinese food. But she’d gone right to how things were going to end. That was exactly the reason we got along so well. No games. Just straight to it. Neither of us had the time or desire for more. At least I hadn’t a few damn weeks ago. Now, though, I had no idea what the hell I was doing. A certain little redhead had me turned upside down.

Six months!I’d told her I was going to waitsix monthsfor her? Actually, it wouldn’t even be waiting for something to happen. It would be waiting forthe chanceof something happening after her dumb moratorium was over. The last time I’d gone six months without sex was—well, it had never happened. Not since I was fifteen and got laid on my birthday the first time. But I also had an early flight back to the US in the morning, so rather than stopping to analyze whether I was really going to do what I’d told Sloane Iwould, I mentally allowed myself to blame canceling on my travel schedule.

Wilder:Sorry, Mel. Can I get a raincheck? Expansion decision is coming down to the wire and I have to fly out again.

A minute later, my phone lit up with a response.

Melanie:Of course. Best of luck with the team. We can celebrate next week when it’s a done deal.

I exhaled a little relief, at least for now. But then my phone vibrated again.

“Fuck my life.” I scrubbed my hands over my face.

Melanie had sent another photo. She was standing now, just outside the bathtub—completely naked, except for a few beads of glistening water sliding down her perfect body, and she held a small vibrator in one hand.

Melanie:I’m around the entire month, if you find an hour or two of free time. Until then, I’ll take care of myself;)

I was still staring down at the screen, questioning my sanity, when my assistant, Margot, buzzed in through our intercom system. “Andrew needs to meet with you this morning. He said it’s important.”

Andrew Emerson was in-house legal counsel for all of my holdings, but lately his time had been almost exclusively dedicated to the expansion team, as was the case with most of the people who worked here. He was also my childhood best friend, more like a brother to me than an employee.

I pressed the button. “Tell him to come by whenever he’s ready.”

Lord knows I wasn’t getting shit accomplished bouncing back and forth between the temptation on my phone and thinking about Sloane. But I forced my nose back to the grindstone, opening my electronic calendar to see what had to be done before I left againtomorrow morning. Less than three minutes later, there was a knock at my door, and Andrew opened it without waiting.

“Guess it’s important…” I said.

“Yeah, it is.” He closed the door. As he came in, I got a good look at him, and my stomach dropped.Oh fuck. Whatever it was wasbad. Andrew was the professional-looking one in our twosome—always clean-shaven, suit pressed razor-sharp, shoes buffed… But now he had a face full of scruff, his clothes were wrinkled like he’d slept in them, and I couldn’t see myself in his shoe shine.

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