Page 109 of Dirty Player

My hands began trembling at the same time she pulled me to standing.

“Go see her!”

My hands went to my wild hair. I’d forced myself to take the time to get ready that day because I was going to be at the store, but Bethany Carlson? She was famous. I freakinglovedher music. I had tried to talk Patrick into taking me to her last concert that went through Des Moines two years before and then acted not that disappointed when he’d twisted his lips and went, “Eh. Really? Not really my thing.”

Dick.I knew how to pick ‘em.

I brushed the errant thought out of my mind and blew out a breath. “Okay. Okay, I’m going.”

We rushed out of the office, Melissa close on my heels, and then I froze when I reached the end of the hallway.

In front of me was a woman with her back turned to me.

Blond hair flowing to her waist. A tight, short skirt that barely covered her ass. Tanned and toned legs that went to gold strappy sandals I woulddieto own.

And all of it—from the hair to the waist to the legs—had all been parts of the woman that had been burned into my brain since the morning before.

“Holy shit,” I breathed, slamming to a halt in my tracks at the same time I reached out to squeeze onto Melissa’s hand.

“I know,” she hissed quietly, totally awed.

I shook my head and whispered back, “No. That’s her. That’s the woman who came out of Oliver’s yesterday. I knew she looked familiar then, but I couldn’t place her.”

Her eyes jumped open and her lips pulled back to a sneer. “That whore. Oh my God, what is she doing here?”

I wanted to hug my friend and her loyalty. To go from being in awe to getting her claws ready to attack, Melissa was the shit.

“Fuck,” I whisper-hissed. I forced my feet to move forward. As I walked toward her, Bethany turned to me and exhaled slowly.

“Hello, Shannon. I’m Bethany. We didn’t really get the chance to meet yesterday.”

She was famous. A country rock star who toured with the best of the best and had won handfuls of CMA awards.

She’d also walked out of my boyfriend’s home—or ex-boyfriend’s—dressed in barely anything and giggling about seeing him later.

Ihatedher.

I forced myself not to be enamored with the first part, to focus on the second, and didn’t take the hand she offered to me.

“Can I help you?” I asked, my voice dry and hoarse and blood rushing through my veins.

Her hand fell to her side and she sucked her lip between her teeth. “I, well, I’m not sure what I’m doing here, but I thought maybe it’d be best for me to come talk to you myself.”

To mark her new territory? She already had it. Oliver lost claim to me when he slipped his “I’ve never cheated and would never cheat” dick into her.

I crossed my shaking arms over my chest and said nothing.

“I’m really sorry,” she said, the words rushing out of her. She waved her hands in the air while she spoke, making her seem even sweeter. “Oliver and I, nothing happened, I swear. We’re friends. I stay in the room next door to his and I’m only in town a few days. I saw him at the bar the other night and he was so drunk, I helped him to his room. That’s it, I swear. I went there yesterday to make him coffee and make sure he was okay.”

She seemed honest, almost pleading with me to believe her and God, I wanted to.

It didn’t change anything, but I still really wanted to believe that Oliver hadn’t cheated on me. Or fucked another woman so quickly after kicking me to the curb.

“Thank you for letting me know,” I said. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”

“You don’t believe me.”

Her pretty blue eyes turned sad and she sucked a lip between her teeth again. “I can understand why, I really do. But well, I haven’t always had the best luck with guys, and sooner or later they all turn out to be assholes. But Oliver’s not like that, and he wouldn’t have…we’ve never, I swear, Shannon, nothing happened with us. Nothing ever has. We’re just friends and we get together occasionally when we’re both in town, but it’s never been anything more than drinks and laughter.”

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