I don’t believe him.
Men and women don’tjuststay friends without attraction being involved. Especially not when they’re the kind of good friends who leave hair clips behind in luxury sports cars.
“So,” I ask, trying to redirect the acid bubbling in my chest. “What’s this auction?”
He’s quiet for a beat too long.
“Ah… nothing. Just a charity auction The Black Ledger hosts it every year.”
“And you don’t go because you’re morally opposed to donating to charity?”
When I turn to look at him again, his lips are twisted in a smug little smile. A secret tucked behind his teeth.
“Let’s just say,” he says slowly, “they’re not auctioning off the typical charity gala items you’re used to seeing from the uber-rich.”
He turns up the long gravel road to our property. The white fencing catches the headlights like bone, glowing ghostly in the dark.
“What is that supposed to mean?” I press.
He glances at me, all shadows, and sharp edges.
“They’re a bit more…carnalin nature.”
I blink because that confuses me more.
And pisses me off.
He’s talking in riddles, smug and mysterious and maddening. And now all I can think about is the woman who had this seat before me, maybe even got these same fucking tacos, breathed in this same cologne.
Suddenly nothing feels special.
Right back to where I started remembering why I keep him on the other side of a door that I can never open. Never again.
He barely rolls to a stop when I grab the handle and try to yank the door open.
“Thanks for the lift.” It doesn’t open and I swear under my breath. “Is there a way out of this death trap?”
He’s holding back a grin, but his eyes are smoldering. Then, without warning, he leans across me. His entire body invades my space—his shoulder brushing mine, his breath warm against my neck. I suck in a sharp gasp and that was the wrong move.
It goes right past his ear.
He definitely heard it.
He probably also heard meinhalehim like some deranged cologne-sniffing junkie.
Goddammit.
He pops the door open effortlessly, then looks at me. Voice low. Warm. Intimate.
“Good night, Cricket.”
I say nothing. Just step out and slam the door harder than necessary.
Screw him.
I don’t have time to play games with the dickwad from my past who needs to stay there. I’ve got to figure out how to save my house.
But as I walk up the steps, his words echo in my head.
