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Chapter One
Present Day
Dylan
I can’t believe she’s actually here.
Tessa, that sexy as fuck woman I’d picked up at the gym a couple of months back with promises of hot sex, but who then randomly ghosted me after multiple hook ups when I thought everything was trucking along hot and heavy. And not just ghosted me, lied to me apparently. I still remember the fucking text she sent me when I messaged to set up our next hook up. The random and cold way she essentially told me to fuck off.
Tessa: Yeah so no can do this weekend after all…I got a job in San Fran and will be there for a couple of months. Be good to get a taste of the big city and out of this shitty tourist town. Thanks for the ride!
I’d texted back immediately, all sorts of confused given the short notice of the new job and move to San Francisco. Considering only four nights earlier, I’d been with her in her totally non-packed up condo, there’s no way that could have “suddenly” happened like she was trying to make out.
Me: What the hell, you’re seriously leaving? And thanks for the ride, wtf is that??
My phone had stayed silent for far too long, even though I knew she had read the message. Impatient, I’d followed up with nothing but a line of question marks before she finally responded.
Tessa: Look it’s for the best. I’m looking for more, you’re not. Let’s just call this what it was and move on.
And that was it. Every message since, every call I’d made, every time I’d knocked on her damn front door; they’d all gone unanswered, ignored, as though she wanted nothing more to do with me.
Yet clearly, she hasn’t gone to San Francisco, because two months ago, she’d shown up at Somerville’s, the architect Lauren had apparently hired to add on to their house. Then, as if to add insult to fucking injury, only two nights ago, she’d been here again for Tommy and Penny’s wedding, as though they’re all best friends or something.
And now today, here she fucking is again; walking around the property, checking out the buildings, clipboard in hand as she makes notes, some douche trailing behind her, hanging off her every word as he takes photos of everything she points at.
What the fuck is happening here?
“You keep staring at her like that, she’s gonna think you’re a total creeper.”
I turn to find Jack, my boss’ boss standing beside me, arms crossed over his chest and a smirk on his face.
Exhaling, I look away. “I actually do know her, you know?” I tell him, even though I don’t really know a damn thing about her. Well, except the fact that she likes to make shit up just to ditch a guy.
“Right,” Jack says, clearly not believing me as he slaps me on the shoulder. “Well anyway, Tommy is off for the next week, non-stop shagging no doubt, so you’re stuck with me. We’ve got a lot of things to do, including that new batch of cider. You wanna get to it?”
“Yep, sure thing,” I say with a nod, knowing hanging around here isn’t going to get me anywhere.
Tessa has barely said two words to me since she showed up here at Somerville’s after casually kicking me to the curb. We’d played nice at the wedding, but it had all been superficial. Casual conversation that pointedly ignored the fact we used to hook up for sex until she completely ghosted me.
I wanted to talk to her, but I never really managed to find a time to get her alone and if I was being honest, I was kind of scared to ask, a little weirded out about what the fuck had happened between us.
Women don’t usually blow me off like that.
And I really shouldn’t care this much that she has.
Except for some reason, I do.
Which is sonotlike me.
I mean, usually it’s me ditching them after a couple of weeks of hooking up. Dick move, I know, but hey, I never pretend I want anything more than what we’ve agreed on. Hot sex, no relationship, totally casual. I thought Tessa was into that too, that we were both on the same page, but clearly, I was wrong.
On so many levels, because ever since she’d kicked me to the curb, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her. Which has been making my head feel like it’s on the verge of exploding.
“Come on, let’s go,” Jack says, and we turn and head over to Apple Jacks.
When we reach the cider house that’s now open to the public and already filled with tourists coming to sample the amazing cider he makes, Jack and I detour around to the sheds at the back.
“So, what’s the real story with you and Tessa then?” Jack asks as we head inside, making our way over to the bottling machine.
