Page 42 of Dirty Rock

I brought my drink to my lips and eyed Ollie. “Nope.”

“Lyingarsehole,” he whispered.

Draining my glass was easy—too easy. I could have sunk twenty of them, and I’d still want more. I tossed it on the table and spun it around between my finger and thumb. “It’s become too easy, Ol.”

“What has?”

I looked up at him sharply. “Getting laid.”

“Oh, what a problem to have. I feel so sorry for you.”

“You get bored of caviar if you have it every day.”

“Then, slum it with a hot dog.”

“I don’t know. Maybe I need something a little more mature.”

“Anyone in mind?”

I rubbed my lips together and thought of Julia again. Chasing her would sate the thirst I suddenly felt, but it could ruin everything between the two of us for the rest of forever. The guys of Youth Gone Wild would kill me. Dicky would find a way to make me pay. And Julia could potentially lose her job.

Still…

I wanted her.

I’d tasted her.

I needed more.

“Yeah,” I said, nodding along. “I think I have.”

“Rhett?” a feminine voice said, making me look up to my right.

Charlotte King stood in front of me, her cheeks rosy from the cold, and eyes wide with surprise. The woman had the nerve to wear a smile in my presence, and while she took a step closer, I cast a quick glance at Ollie who stared back at me, stunned.

Of all the morons to run into.

“My God, is it really you?” Charlotte asked.

I inhaled a deep breath and turned back to her with a flat smile of my own. “Yeah. And you are?” I scowled.

“You don’t remember?”

“Oh. Maybe. It’s Rachel, right?”

“No,” she said with a small chuckle, and pressed her palm to her chest. “It’s Charlotte.”

I pushed down the hatred I’d always held for her. Kill them with indifference. That had always been the rule, and I wasn’t about to change that now.

“Charlotte King,” she added. “We went to high school together.”

I frowned harder and shook my head.

“You don’t remember? I had a crush on you when we were younger.” She laughed, trying to sound cute. I wanted to throw Ollie’s drink over her perfectly styled hair and tell her there were far more hideous memories that stood out rather than that bullshit, but alcohol was precious, and I wasn’t about to waste it on her. “I got Andrew Crawley to tell Ollie that I—”

“Shit. Crawley. I remember him. That guy knew how to gossip.” Faking my own surprise, I gave a short nod of recognition. “Of course. Charlotte. Right. Hi.”

She drew nearer, stopping only a foot away. I knew that expression she wore. I’d seen it a thousand times over. Some women thought that if they stood close enough, they were in with a chance. I’d rather eat my own dick than let Charlotte King anywhere near it.

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