Page 14 of Tempt Thy Neighbor

We weren’t always so involved in all the crazy gossip that sounds like it came directly out of a soap opera. But when you’re suddenly too rich for the poor kids and too new money for the rich kids, there’s nothing to do but sit back and absorb it all.

“What about that guy with the awful handlebar mustache? What ever happened to him?”

“Skipped town because he got his secretary pregnant.”

“Damn.” Dean shakes his head. “And that guy from college?”

“His boyfriend wasn’t too happy about our date, but we still text from time to time. He’s funny as hell.”

“You’ve hadallof these awful dates?” River asks, and I nod, confirming the pitiful truth. “Man, I thought I had it bad before I started dating this bozo”—she tilts her head Dean’s way—“but I think yours are taking the cake.”

“Trust me—these aren’t anything.” I wave my hand. “The worst one by far was when I went out with—son of a bitch.”

“A son of a bitch? Because, I mean, that sounds pretty tame compared to the other ones.”

I can’t believe my eyes right now.

Satan’s lovechild is currently standing in The Gravy Train.

He looks completely out of place too as he towers over the server standing at the counter. His dark brown hair that feels like silk is perfectly styled, not a single strand out of place. A light gray dress shirt that probably cost as much as anyone working here makes in a week stretches over his broad shoulders, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows in that annoyingly hot way, showing off his tanned forearms. Black dress pants cling to his long legs, hugging him in all the right places.

The server says something to him, batting her lashes his way.

He doesn’t give her the time of day, looking away, his eyes clashing with mine.

I suck in a breath.

I almost forgot how much his stare can cut right through me.

His golden eyes look just like the tequila I downed earlier, and they affect me the same way—seeping into my veins, making me feel all kinds of off-kilter.

One corner of his mouth lifts, and he nods at whatever the server says to him, then ambles across the restaurant, heading in my direction.

“Went out with who?” River asks again, not noticing that the Devil himself just smirked at me.

“Sutton Barnes,” I say, in answer to her question and to the man who has stopped at the end of our table.

The other corner of his mouth lifts up, and everything snaps back into place.

Irritation takes the place of surprise, and the hate I feel for him hits me like a freight train.

“What are you doing here.” The question isn’t friendly, and it’s not even really a question at all.

Like the asshole he is, he chuckles. “Nice to see you again too, Holls.”

“It’s Holland.” I clench my teeth, hating the way he says my nickname. That’s reserved for family and friends, and Sutton isn’t even close to either. “And I’d say it’s nice to see you too, but you’re the last person I’d ever want to see.”

“Is that your way of saying that when your life flashes before your eyes, you’ll be thinking of me?”

I swear everyone can hear how hard I roll my eyes. “It’s adorable how you think you’re even a blip on my radar.”

“All I heard is how adorable you think I am.” Another fucking smirk. “Hey, Dean,” he says.

My brother, being completely oblivious to the shit Sutton pulled in the past, shakes the asshole’s hand. “Hey, Sutton. How you been, man?”

There’s a slip, just a fraction of a second of hesitation in Sutton’s response, his jaw dropping the slightest bit.

Dean doesn’t notice it, and River definitely doesn’t either.

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