My stomach tightens—my usual reaction to the man.
Another guy asks something I can’t make out. I catch a quick glimpse of him before he steps away. Then Jace replies, “Who, Rory? The girl I’m standing with in the wedding?”
Two things hit me at the same time.
One, that’s a suite for Maverick and his groomsmen. And two, Jace Walker is talking about me.
The familiar urge to curse him bubbles up in me, but I swallow it down. I don’t know firsthand that he’s a dick. It’s just a suspicion based on how he’s always preoccupied with his phone whenever he’s around me.
I lean closer to peek through the door, and my pulse races when I spot him in a black tux. He has the ethereal beauty of a fallen angel—gorgeous green eyes, light brown hair, and a lethal smile.
Jace carries that brand of careless, magnetic confidence I’ve learned to despise. When he runs a hand through his artfully messy hair, his face settles into a familiar infuriating smirk that reminds me entirely too much of my ex.
Pressing my lips together tightly, I shake my head, refusing to let another arrogant jerk make my heart skip.
“Bruh, is she hot? You gonna hook up later?” the other man asks, making me jump back so neither of them see me.
“I’m doing that cleanse, remember? Besides, she’s not my type.”
No one has to tell me I’m not Jace’s type. Because lead singers in popular bands don’t date wallflower librarians.
“All you had to say is she’s a dog.”
Mortified, I stop breathing.
My sad little heart waits for Jace to toss me a bone.She’s cute. She’s kinda pretty. She’s not that bad.Something. Anything.
His silence lacerates me.
I glance in the dressing table mirror across the room as I acknowledge that no amount of makeup will ever change the fundamental equation.
But more than anything, I realize I was right—Jace Walker’s an asshole.
1
JACE
The squeal hasme leaning out the kitchen window. Muddy children roll around in the backyard in the warm April rain. I count them to make sure all four are alive.
And Paige questions my babysitting skills.
I’m doing a chicken nugget inventory to make sure I have enough food for the kids when one of my nephews howls, so I drop the bag of frozen food on the counter and sprint outside.
“Who got hurt?” I squint through the droplets.
My nephew Gabe points to his little brother Austin, who’s rubbing his elbow and sniffling. “I hit it funny.”
I inspect his boo-boo. “What’s that Spanish thing Aunt Baylee says?”
“Sana sana, colita de rana.”
“Yeah. That.” I think it’s something about the ass of a frog. “Feel better?”
Austin nods and gives me a sideways grin. “I slid from one side of the mud pit to the other.”
“Way to go, bud.” I hold up my hand, and when he high-fives me, mud splatters all over my face. He giggles, and I pretend to be mad and chase him. But Gabe comes from behind, and nextthing I know, the three of us are on the ground. I scrape the mud out of my eyes and see that Rhett’s youngest, Ella, and Baylee’s toddler, Leo, have joined the ruckus.
I break free from Gabe and Austin and grab the two littles, one under each arm, and race away from the big kids. “Hurry! They’re gonna get us!”
