Page 14 of Don't Be My Valentine

A barbeque pit had been placed to one side, and the scent of cooking meat drifted on the air.

“Wow,” Summer said. “This is great.”

People split off into groups and pairs and started dancing on the sand. Summer separated from me, which was good, since staying together would only lead to more kissing. Christ, I was a dumbass for doing that.

But resisting her had been nearly impossible, especially after we’d vibed like that. Like old times.

You have more important things to focus on.

I headed over to the bar and picked up one of the cocktails. It was too sweet for my taste, but I drank it anyway, trying to blow off steam that had built thanks to earlier. My gaze wandered, and I tried looking anywhere but at Summer.

It didn’t work.

She sat next to my sister, leaning into her, occasionally laughing and sipping on her cocktail, and she definitely didn’t look my way. Shit, I’d pissed her off.

Since when do you care about that?

I’d grown practiced at cutting people out. My life had taught me that no one was forever, and that the only people I could trust were…well, shit, the only person I could trust was Emilia. Not even my father instilled within me any sense of pride. He’d checked out after my mother’s passing.

I took another sip of my cocktail, swilling it around my mouth and forcing myself to swallow. “You got anything dry?” I asked the bartender.

He nodded and fixed me something. I used it to wash the flavor out of my mouth.

“Hey, gorgeous.” A woman laid a hand on my ass cheek.

I raised an eyebrow at the blonde, Chastity. She was drunk, her fake lashes drooping heavily. I stepped out of her clawed grasp. “Can I help you?”

“Sure, you can. You can buy me a drink.”

“The drinks are free,” I said, “as I’m sure you’ve already discovered.”

“Sure, sure, but then, like, you can take me for a walk on the sand. Under the moonlight.” She drew closer, bathing me in the scent of alcohol. “And I can suck your dick on the—”

“Bartender, get this woman a glass of water.” I peaced out before she could simper something else stomach-turning.

I wasn’t sexually repressed, but the thought of any woman other than Summer turned me off. And that chick was drunk. And I wasn’t a fucking bastard. Shit, I hadn’t exactly gone on a rampage when it came to women.

There had been a few one-night stands and ill-fated flings, but nothing serious. And never with women who slurred instead of speaking.

I moved around the cabana, stopping to chat with Scott and his buddy, Jacob, a big-time businessman I’d met a couple times before. The conversation was funny and intelligent, even though the men were slightly tipsy, but nothing could take my mind off her.

I glanced over. Again and again.

Laughing, occasionally taking a sip of her drink. Emilia would draw her into a hug, and then, for the briefest of moments, Summer’s expression would shift, from joy to guilt and back again. She didn’t like betraying my sister any more than I did.

It was playing with fire, wanting her like this.

“Hi,” a woman said.

I turned, preparing to rebuff a second drunk attempt from the blonde. Instead, it was a redhead in a modest dress, bearing a smile. “You must be Matthew,” she said. “Pamela.”

We shook hands. “Nice to meet you.”

“And you,” she said. “I was just wondering how long you two have been together.”

“Huh?”

“You and Summer.” Pamela lifted her drink, tipping the edge slightly to gesture toward my sister’s best friend.

“Summer and I are not an item.” I hadn’t meant for it to come out stern, but there it was. Talking about Summer wasn’t a thing I was willing to do, especially not with a stranger.

“Oh, really? Because I could have sworn… Sorry, I know that’s not my place.” She tittered a laugh. “Just, I noticed the way you two were looking at each other, and I was interested. Apparently, Chastity’s taken a bet out that she can get you into bed before the end of the week.”

“That’s…”

“Gross?” Pamela nodded. “I know. That’s Chastity for you.” She shrugged. “So, I was thinking she didn’t have a shot because you’re with Summer, but if you’re not…”

“That’s not the reason she doesn’t have a shot,” I replied, turning cold eyes on her. “No one has a shot.”

“Why?” Pamela asked, tipping her head to one side.

Once again, there was no reason to talk to this woman about it. Probably, it was harmless conversation, but really, I preferred to keep to myself. Period.

“Excuse me,” I said, and walked away. I exited the cabana and hoofed it across the sand, putting distance between myself and the merriment. I needed the breath. I needed to clear my thoughts after the kiss and the potential for more.

No, there’s no potential for more.

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