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“If only. She’s not impressed by much—certainly not by money.”
I could have told him that.
What I need from him is what she’s not showing me. He managed to get her to date him, and I need to understand how.
Morgan’s set against me because of what happened in June, but before, when we met during the Archer wedding, she’d seemed mostly uninterested.
Objectively, it makes no sense for a woman to be open to him and indifferent to me.
Well, Morgan wasn’tcompletelyindifferent. I remember her flushed cheeks when we danced. I did catch a couple of looks—though they were fleeting, distant.
Fuck, I should have scratched beneath the surface back then. My life would have been far less complicated if I had.
“Not a gold digger, then? That’s a rare find for us trust fund kids.”
Trent puffs his chest proudly. “She doesn’t accept any presents, doesn’t let me pay for dates—we share the bill. She needs to fly to NYC in a few weeks, and she’s worried about the airplane fare, but will she let me use my miles for it? Nope. What does that tell you?”
That he’s an idiot.
Her being stubborn isn’t an excuse for letting her struggle.
“You hit the jackpot,” I say honestly.
“I know. Women like her…that’s the kind you hold on to, you know? Even when you have to wait, be patient with them. It’s worth it in the end.”
He sounds like he’s attempting to convince himself more than me.
“Wait, what do you mean? Wait for what?”
I know before he says a word.
I went to Trent for intel, and I got better than what I bargained for.
Holy fuck.
She might have held on to her hymen in Thorn Falls, but now that she has a boyfriend, it makes sense for her to have jumped on him over the summer. I was convinced she did…but no. She didn’t let the tool touch her. She’s still a virgin. A fuckingvirgin.
“She wants to take things slow, you know,” the buffoon says. “I’m not used to it, but it’s kind of hot, in a way. Knowing I’ll be her first.”
The racket is twitching in my palm. I can imagine serving one last time, right through his head. I don’t see any cameras in the area—I could likely get away with it.
“Nice. You’re—” I clear my throat, forcing the words out. “You’re lucky.”
In fact, he should consider himself to be the luckiest man in the world, because he’s still alive, although I’ve thought of seventeen different ways to dispose of his body after ripping him apart.
God, this woman is seriously messing with my cock, my mind, and my sanity.
ChapterTwenty-Three
I want to chop my feet off.This Sunday is another level of torture.
The owner of the café, Faith Lance, had the great idea of hiring an up-and-coming band to play in the inner garden. It’s a smart marketing move, except this place objectively doesn’t need any marketing. Thanks to its location, great pie, and decent coffee, it’s almost always at capacity.
We're fully staffed for the event, and Faith herself is helping at the bar, but the café is as packed as a night club, with writhing bodies I need to snake through to run orders.
"Hey, Brown,” Faith screams from behind the counter.“Take your break!”
I’m surprised I’m getting a break at all, given that the sea of people is clamoring for orders, but I don'tquestion it. I rush out before she can change her mind.
