Page 31 of Problematic Summer Romance

“Whatwasyour plan?”

“Mostly, deferring to you.”

“Really? Because you kinda took charge with the whole fake-relationship thing.”

He winces. “Yeah. That was…impulsive. And pure fucking spite.” I tilt my head, and he continues, “Those two were Velcroed together from the second I got here. They had no idea where you were, or why you were out this late. They were not worried that you weren’t answering your phone. And then I saw your face when you came in, and…” His expression is fascinating. A mix of tightly leashed control, utter chaos, and thirst for vengeance. “You know, I may have anger issues, too.”

Laughter bubbles out of me. “You don’t say.”

“But now that your friends—and I use the term loosely—think that there is someone else in your life, you have options.”

“Such as?”

“If you need a break from them, you could spend the next few nights at my hotel. I’m leaving tomorrow morning, so the room would be all yours. But they won’t know that.”

I nod. Honestly, it’s not the worst idea.

“Why did you move to Scotland for college, anyway?” he asks, studying the Texas Longhorns postcard on my wall. He seems more interested in looking at the room decor than at me.

“Same reason you moved to the US, probably.”

“You were a rower and got recruited by an Ivy?”

I laugh. I didn’t know that about him, but…I can see it. I totally can. Wide back. Defined arms. Strong legs. “No. To escape my annoying family.”

“Ah.” He nods, then stares at my bed for a suspicious length of time. So long, I tense. Maybe I shouldn’t have shown a virtual stranger my sex toys.

“Fair warning,” I say coldly, “I never put out the first time someone flies in from another country to save me from my terrible life choices.”

He blinks, confused.

“The way you were ogling my bed, I figured that maybe you were…wondering.”

He scoffs. “Iwaswondering. But only whether the second part of your bed pulls out.”

“The what?”

“You really sleep there? Every night?”

“Yeah.” I frown. “Why are you looking at it like that?”

“Just admiring its unique…narrowness.” He glances up. “One would figure that not having a headboard would buy you some room, and yet.”

“Now listen, Mr. Billionaire.”

“Nota billionaire. Not even on the best trading day. Not even close.”

“Aww. I like that.”

“That I have less money than you think?”

“No, that you took the wordbillionaireas the insult it was meant to be.”

He sighs, failing to conceal a smile. Points at a section on the wall that’s free of furniture, a couple of feet from my bed. “Okay if I take that spot?”

“For what?”

“To spend the night.” He must interpret my befuddlement as a yes, because he drops to the floor and sits against the wall. His long, muscular legs stretch in front of him, crossed at the ankle. “I’ll stay a couple of hours. Then noisily sneak out. You have a Ring camera, right?”

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