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If she cut him, did he still bleed like she did?

Fucking period panties. She hated that she wanted to give them a try. Maybe the moisture wicking ones too, since she hated getting sweaty ass crack when she jogged in the mornings. Maybe the bladder leak ones too, just for the hell of it. Too far. Too fucking far. Maybe none, because Jesse was clearly overconfident, and she didn’t want to add to that smug smile she did choose to focus on when she drove past a billboard.

“What kind of underwear would you recommend for an asshole problem?” she sassed, instead of getting down to the real issues, just because once upon a time, they’d been best friends, before everything went to hell in a hot ass handbasket, and she couldn’t help herself.

“Hmm.” Jesse scrunched up his face in consideration. “Really any of them would work. We have a few other lines too. Regular lines. Seamless lines. Then there’s our bright and wild line, our swimwear line, and our children’s line.”

Arrrrrrrggggghhhhhh! Sydney screamed silently, on the inside, which, bizarrely enough, hurt her head just as much as if she’d let that scream out.

“I should never have been on there when I was drunk,” she blurted. “It was like a drunk dial. Remember those? I- god! Social media is the black vortex of all that is horrible and unholy. It’s a cesspool of self-pity and stupidity and idiocy!”

Jesse cocked a brow, and damn it, even that was sexy. How pathetic was she that she noticed, and that she cared. She was sitting there, hyper aware that she was in his house, just a few feet away. That when she inhaled, she smelled his crisp, spicy, manly scent. That he was gorgeous.

That the last time she’d seen him, he’d taken her virginity and given her the best four orgasms of her life.

Four.

And no, she hadn’t thought about those over the years. No, she hadn’t touched herself to them. No, she’d never picked up a magazine and kept that image of him in her mind until she went to bed. Alone. No, she’d never thought of him in the shower. No, she didn’t remember that he had a big package. Like… big. Seriously big.

No, no, no.

Jesse leaned forward, humor lighting up his beautiful plaid eyes, eyes like the surface of the lake reflecting the sky on a cloudless day. Eyes like… like a Caribbean Sea.

“Why then, if it’s such a cesspool, were you on it? You might have been drunk, but you were sober enough to type that message. Maybe, what you really wanted, deep down, or not so deep down, was exactly what you wrote.”

CHAPTER 7

Jesse

Just when she’d started to relax, he’d gone and pissed her off again. He watched Syd’s eyes narrow into dangerous slits. Her lips thinned out and even angry, she was insanely beautiful. Her skin… damn, her skin was so perfect. Not that it hadn’t always been, but California had been kind to her. She looked good with that permanent tan she had going on.

Good, as in amazing.

Then again, he’d always thought she was amazing. Because she was. Is. Whatever.

“You can’t keep me prisoner here,” she spat. “That thing with your mom isn’t going to work. I know her game.”

He had no choice but to feign innocence. Syd was there and that was more than half the battle. He made a mental note to give Martin a big raise for doing the impossible. He also made a note to thank his mom, as bad as it was, for giving him an ace up his sleeve. He now had a not so secret weapon. Mother tears.

Never to be underestimated, just like mom disappointment.

“What thing?” he asked innocently. “My mom was just incredibly happy to see you. Those tears were completely genuine.” That, at least, was true.

Syd’s eyes narrowed further, even though he didn’t think it was possible. She looked like a pissed off housecat about to tear his face off. Or castrate him. It would probably be a tossup between the two.

“I don’t know what you told her, but this…” she gestured wildly between them, “isn’t a thing. This isn’t a thing. It’s never going to be. It’s never going to work.”

Jesse nodded slowly, like he was really going to actually let her off the hook, even though he had no intention of doing anything close to it. He decided to try another tactic, even if he had to guilt her into it. Once upon a time, in another life, Syd loved his mother. He’d play on that. His father too. She’d been a part of their family.

“Would it really be so bad to try?”

Her head snapped up and her eyes went from narrow little slits to wide as baseball saucers. She blinked at him like a black hole just opened up between them and aliens were springing out wearing funny little hats and screaming they were going to eat her brains.

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