Page 51 of The Bad Girl List

“I don’t know. He’s come up in all of our conversations. I’m curious about what sort of guy he is.”

“Oh.” I shrug. “Well, he was perfect on paper. Good job, nice family, etcetera. But he was more into tennis and his career than he was ever into me.” It hurts to admit that, but with two months of processing behind me, I know Annika is right about that. “He always put me third, and I let him.”

I’m not sure what Trevor sees in my face, but he reaches across the table and lightly holds my hand. “Hey, don’t be so hard on yourself.”

“I just thought …” I stare over Trevor’s shoulder at the scuffed wooden fence that surrounds the courtyard. “I just thought everything would work out if I supported him, you know? Like if I went to those stupid bars and sat in the corner while he networked–”

“He left you alone in bars to network?”

“At least once or twice every week. And if I wasn’t supporting him with his networking, I was home alone while he was off playing tennis. He moved in with his tennis partner a few days after he broke up with me.” I shrug uncomfortably, feeling like I’m sharing the most pathetic parts of myself. “I let him treat me like a second-class citizen, so I can’t really complain.”

“You’re being too nice, Dom.” Trevor takes my other hand, leaning both elbows on the table to look at me. “That guy sounds like an ass hat. You’re a nice person and he took advantage of you.”

“What about Elle?” I ask, wanting to change the subject. I don’t like thinking about Oliver. “What was she like?”

Trevor’s face softens. Under the glow of the outdoor lighting, I can see how much he still cares about her.

“You know that crowd we just waded through in the bar?” he asks.

“What about it?”

“Elle would have been in the middle of that and loving every second. She was the sort of person who could walk into a room of strangers and come out with three new friends. I could never figure out how she did it.”

I think of the pretty girl with four-inch heels in the picture on Trevor’s fireplace mantle. What he describes fits what I had seen there. Knowing Elle could be summed up as my complete opposite makes me feel deflated.

I extract my hands and lean back in my chair, though I can’t quite bring myself to move my leg away from his.

Trevor leans back too, his gaze distant. “She was the extrovert, I was the introvert. She loved going with me on sales calls. She–”

He breaks off. I sense a change in the mood. Trevor hunches over, pulling his leg away from mine, and twirls one of the wine glasses between his hands.

“Trevor? You okay?”

“I’m okay.” He lifts his chin, but the smile he gives me doesn’t touch his eyes. “Remember that hotel I told you about for skinny-dipping? I think Tuesday is a good night to go, if you’re free. Tuesdays tend to be slow days for tourists, so there’s less chance of running into people and getting caught.”

I absorb the change in subject, mentally kicking myself for asking about Elle. What had I been thinking when I brought her up? Stupid, stupid.

“Tuesday night sounds great.” I give him a soft smile with the hopes of returning to the easiness that existed between us before I’d blundered. “Annika and I are free every night after dinner.”

“Make sure you wear shoes you can hike in.” He glances up at me. My chest relaxes as I see the warmth has returned to his eyes, and his foot bumps up against mine. “I have to drag you through a forest to get to the backside of this place.”

“Now I’m really intrigued.” I grin, shifting my leg so that our calves touch. Am I an idiot for wanting an excuse to touch him? “Should I be worried that it sounds suspiciously like the beginning of the Blair Witch Project?”

He opens his mouth to reply, but a loud voice breaks into our conversation.

“Hey, Trevor!” A tall, clean-shaven guy with dark brown hair strolls in our direction, carrying a brown cocktail in one hand. “Dude, Trevor, nice to see you out, buddy. Who’s your friend?”

CHAPTER 15

The Friend

TREVOR

Kevin Durham, from Durham Estate Winery, saunters in our direction.

I should be happy to see him. Technically, he’s a friend. His winery is only a few miles down the road from ours. The two of us go all the way back to preschool. We played from time to time as kids, and he even dated my sister for a while in high school.

But I don’t like the way Kevin is looking at Dom. The guy is well-known among the locals to be a ladies man among the tourists. For a guy who doesn’t like commitment, tourists provide him with a constant supply of boobs and booty. (His words, not mine.) He can turn and burn through them without any worry of commitment.

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