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A million hopes.
A million regrets.
But I am not ready to face any of them.
I’m a few feet from the bathroom when he catches up to me.
He puts a hand on my shoulder. I stifle a scream and stop. I don’t want to make a scene. We may not be in Winsome, but there are plenty of people here who I recognize.
I plaster a bemused smile on my face and slowly turn around. My smile falters and a lump the size of my heart rises in my throat.
I find myself staring into a pair of unfathomably deep green eyes. Set wide and deep, fringed by inky lush lashes, and framed by dark, slashing brows that add severity to a face that is otherwise bold and graceful.
His lips are wide, full, and with a sensual dip in the center of the top one that make a perfect bow. His strong, cleanly shaven chin is bisected by a small cleft that the short beard he’d worn all summer used to hide.
“What are you doing here?” Even over the din of the crowd his voice resonates. The quickening of my pulse is an unwelcome reminder of the effect he has on me.
“I live here. Why are you here?”
“To oversee the sale of my family’s lake house. My dad left it to me”
The flicker of sorrow in his eyes is too much. I look over my shoulder. The bathroom is just a few feet away. I need to get in there before I embarrass myself. I look back at him, but keep my eyes fixed on his shoulder. “I’m sorry for your loss. Good luck with the house.”
He puts a hand on my arm to stop me. The feel of his hand on my bare skin for the first time in so long is a shock to my system. It burns, causing me to gasp and pull my arm away. I have to fight the urge to cradle it.
“Yes?” I demand.
“Who are you here with?”
I bristle at the gruff demanding tone he uses. “No one you know.”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to ask you that. I’m just surprised…Damn, it’s so good to see you. Can we go somewhere and talk?” His voice is low, urgent, and rich with an intimacy he forfeited a long time ago.
My eyes fly up to his, intending on setting him straight. But when I see all the things I longed for in them—adoration, longing, possessiveness—I can’t remember my own name.
My heart is racing.
My lips are throbbing.
My space between my thighs is aching.
He’s the love of my life and wanting him is a reflex.
But a lifetime of practice has made me a master of my emotional expression. My expression gives him nothing but impatience. “What could we possibly have to say to each other?” I ask in an emotionless, disinterested voice.
He nods. “I know you probably don’t—”
“There’s nothing to say.”
“I want to apologize. I didn’t know about Bethany, and then the accident. I’m so sorry, I misunderstood.”
I fix him with a steely eyed gaze. “No, it was definitely me who misunderstood. You just lied.”
He sighs and looks around the room. “Look, I know I don’t have a right to ask, and I know tonight isn’t good. I’m here with a friend and I know you are, too.”
My eyes dart back to the corner where I’d first seen him and my stomach coils when I get a look at his companion. ”You’re here with Etta?”
