“No peeking. Keep your eyes closed, Angie.” I framed my sister’s tiny shoulders with my hands and led us to the door of Allswell, her boyfriend’s restaurant. 

The cool breeze had goose bumps rising on my bare arms, but I was used to being half-dressed to the nines when going out on a Saturday night. I wasn’t the celebrant tonight, but that hadn’t stopped me from rocking my silk halter and white jeans. 

I released her and straightened my top and fluffed my hair, not a wrinkle in sight, not a curl out of its place. Perfection was my middle name.

“Tene, I don’t understand why you got me all dressed up to go to dinner. I’m in a miniskirt, and it’s cool tonight.” She teetered on her borrowed four-inch heels. “And these damn strappy shoes of yours.”

Angie Armstrong, my little sister, was conservative, practical, and still way underdressed for her surprise party. If I had allowed her to show up in jeans and a T-shirt, she would’ve killed me.

I knew she’d thank me later—after we entered the doors and she opened her eyes to see all our family and friends and half of our town of Rosendell was there, ready to celebrate her promotion to partner in our real estate investment company.

Seven more steps to the door of Allswell. Once we were inside, we’d see purple and white balloons accenting every table, alternating in color, and a banner hanging against the far wall, screaming, Congratulations, in a girlie script. At the bar, a row of Angie’s favorite desserts had been laid out, arranged by flavors and colors, just as I had ordered. Cade, Angie’s boyfriend, had asked for help in planning, and I’d told him he wouldn’t be disappointed. Plus, I’d do anything for my little sister. 

Fine details mattered. In parties, at work, and in all aspects of life. Even my ten dainty pearls on the back of my stilettos matched my pearl earrings. The small features could make or ruin an outfit, a deal, an occasion. 

“Hey, Christene. Wait up!” 

I stopped mid-step, and my heart stuttered.

That voice. I’d remember that voice anywhere. Thick. Deep. Sexy. 

It’d been months since I heard him or seen him in person. I’d viewed every movie he’d made, watched every YouTube video of his interviews, and listened in on my sister’s conversations with her boyfriend just to hear what was going on in his life. 

My pulse ticked up in tempo. Tick. Tick. Tick. Like a bass drumming on the inside of my wrists. 

I froze, took a deep breath, composed myself, and turned around ever so slowly to find Jordan Ryder—the highest-paid actor in show business, Hollywood’s hotshot, America’s it guy—staring right back at me. 

He was also Cade’s adopted brother. Yep. My sister’s boyfriend’s brother. 

He blew out a breath of smoke and then flicked his cigarette to the side. A sizzle of electric energy surged between us, just like that very first day I’d met him months ago.

I took a step forward, and as though the world had suddenly tilted on its axis, I lost my footing. In slow motion, as if I were in The Matrix, my legs gave out, and I saw the ground, the gum on the concrete, the cracks in the foundation. One knee hit the concrete before I felt a pair of strong hands reach out to steady me.

My hands fell to his hips, and I thanked the heavens above that I hadn’t totally wiped out. I thought I had been saved, saved by an angel. But just when I was about to pull myself up, my other knee gave out, and I face-planted. Not on the ground, but into his crotch.

Oh. My. God.

When I tried to push myself to a standing position, pain seared through my scalp. Because, like on an episode of America’s Funniest Home Videos, I realized my perfect curls were stuck on his belt buckle.

“One second,” Jordan said.

Is he laughing?

Shit. Shit. Shit. He is.

My sister was definitely laughing.

I peered up at her, and she had her phone out. 

“Angie, what the hell are you doing? Help me!” Pain shot to the roots of my hair. Turning to look at her had only made my situation worse. 

“I’m taking a picture; otherwise, no one will believe me.”

“I hate you.”

“How’s the weather down there?” Jordan’s deep chuckle vibrated through my ears and my scalp.

“You’re a jerk.”

As they both worked to remove my hair from his belt buckle, Cade’s loud voice boomed in the background. “Angie, why the hell do you have your hand on my brother’s dick?”

“Hey, baby,” she spoke as though this were normal. Her feeling up her boyfriend’s brother and me basically on my knees, attached to Jordan’s crotch.

“Oh crap, Tene. Some of your hair got stuck in his belt. I told you, your hair was too long.” 

“Shut up.”

I’m going to die.

“I think I have to unzip.” There was amusement in Jordan’s tone. “Angie, can you help me?”

“Fuck if you will. Angie, step back.” Cade’s thick thighs came into view. 

My focus was now on three pairs of shoes. “What the hell is taking so long?”

The sound of his zipper and laughter echoed above me, and then I was free.

My cheeks burned bright as I stood up, adjusted my halter top, and dusted off my jeans as though nothing had happened. 

I frowned when I noticed a dark stain on my knees. Damn it. That would annoy me the whole night.

After I flattened my hair, my gaze met his. 

Jordan’s ocean-blue eyes locked with my brown ones. Wearing dark-washed jeans that hugged his thighs and a Henley that fit him perfectly, he looked as though he’d walked straight off a J.Crew billboard. 

I was too embarrassed to smile, let alone acknowledge his presence. 

“Seriously, I’ve never seen you fall … like, ever. You can run in heels. Mom said you went straight to walking and skipped the crawling phase altogether,” Angie said. “Did your heel get stuck in a crack?” She bit her lip to prevent her smile. 

“Who knows, Angie? It happens, okay?” But not to me. My ears felt impossibly hot. Later, I’d have to confiscate her phone and delete that embarrassing picture. 

“Jordan, what are you doing here?” Angie’s gaze flickered between the brothers. “Did Cade invite you to dinner with us?” She blinked. Then, double-blinked. “Wait.” 

I could almost see the lightbulb flickering on in her head.

She glanced back at the restaurant, and the corner of her lips tipped up as all of Cade’s plans to surprise her vanished into the chilly night air. “We’re having dinner at his restaurant?” She popped out her hip, and her smile widened Crest-white style. Then, she pointed a finger in Cade’s direction. “You’re trying to surprise me. But for what? It’s not my birthday. Unless …” She tilted her head, seeming thoughtful, and tapped her pointer finger against her chin. “Unless it’s for my promotion to partner.” Her pitch increased with all-knowing confirmation. 

Oh, great. Surprise ruined. 

Jordan ran one hand through his blondish-brown hair, making it stick up on end, and stepped between Angie and Cade. “What? No. I was just in the area.” His words flowed without hesitation; his face actor steady. 

For a moment, I thought we were in the clear until Angie’s eyes perused the area, spotting every single one of our family members’ cars in the parking lot.

Shit. Busted. 

Coming to her own conclusion, Angie clasped her hands together and leaped up and down. She propelled her short frame into Cade’s massive one, wrapping her arms around his neck. The muscle in his jaw jumped, and his eyes narrowed on Jordan. 

The brothers were similar in height, but they didn’t look anything alike. Where Cade was stocky with dark hair and dark eyes, Jordan looked like Barbie’s boyfriend, Ken—lean muscles, tall stature, and blond. They were foster brothers turned adopted brothers, so I wouldn’t expect them to look alike, but still, they were striking. No doubt, when together, they drew attention. I wouldn’t know who I’d place my money on if they were both in the ring.

Probably Cade. Jordan was way too pretty. 

“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you!” Angie squealed, hanging on to Cade’s neck, her legs swinging from side to side. 

His eyes softened, and his massive body melted into her when he placed her on the ground. It was the oddest and most heartwarming thing, watching this big, tatted-up muscleman cower into her tiny frame. It was as if she could break him with one look, one word, one touch.

Sigh.

I’d never known what it was like to hold that much power over someone. For someone to love me with such intensity that everything I thought, did, or said mattered to them. 

He framed her heart-shaped face with his overpowering hands. “Congrats, my Angel.” 

My sister had been in love before but not like this, not where her whole being lit up at his words. My insides were doused with fiery envy. The good kind—where I didn’t want to smother her in her sleep or wish her some incurable disease because she was happy, but one where I was genuinely pleased for her and ultimately wanted the same thing for myself one day.

“Why didn’t you answer your phone?” Cade asked, turning toward me. 

“Yeah. Good one. Answer my phone when I was trying to bring the girl of the hour here. That wouldn’t have given away your surprise. Nope. Not at all.” I rolled my eyes and shot him a look.

“I didn’t expect asshole over here to take a cigarette break in front of the bar.”

“Sorry, man.” Jordan winced and held his hands up.

Cade swung an arm around Angie’s lower back and brought her closer, his annoyance at the two of us gone. “Come on, baby. Let me take you inside. Just act surprised, okay?” 

“Okay.” Angie squealed, giddy, as she skipped into Allswell with Cade. 

When the door shut behind them, I tilted my head toward Jordan. “You coming?” 

His stare was directly on the door and filled with a deep set of emotions I couldn’t place. 

He leaned back against the building, one leg propped up against the brick wall. If I snapped a picture, I could sell the shot to some high-paying magazine. 

He took out another cigarette and placed it between his lips. “I’m going to have another one of these. You want one?”

I peered into his baby-blue eyes. He seemed lost for a second, so I decided I’d stay. 

“You know Cade’s just messing around, right?” I took the cigarette he’d offered and rubbed it between my fingertips, hoping my mother wouldn’t catch me out here. “He’ll forgive you.”

“Yeah, I know. But shit.” He rubbed his free hand against his forehead. “He’s been planning this for months. Everything from the decorations right down to the menu. It’s all he’s been talking about.”

“But he’ll still forgive you.”

I bent toward the silver flip-top Zippo he held between us, so I could light my cigarette. The whiff of his expensive cologne was intoxicating, teasing, and begging me to lean in closer. He smelled of pine and an all-masculine scent. Is it Creed, Tom Ford, Clive Christian?

Whatever it was, I wanted to inhale it, taste it off his skin.

The wind blew the flicker of the lighter flame out. Spark but no light. 

He placed his cigarette between his lips, and when the spark still didn’t light, he cupped his hand around the lighter to light his. 

I moved in closer, in the little corner right next to the door, to block the wind, and when he angled in, I placed my cigarette against his lit one.

We were so close that I could feel the warmth of his body radiating against mine.

He looked divine, smelled divine, and I needed divine intervention to stay far, far away from him. I didn’t believe in insta-love, but lust? Yeah, that was a different story. 

But given that he was the brother of my sister’s boyfriend … yeah, well, that automatically took him off my list. I liked my men uncomplicated and detached. Feelings and commitment and relinquishing control were things I stayed away from, ever since my last and only real relationship.

I took a long drag and anchored myself against the wall. I wasn’t a regular smoker, just a social one, but the first drag of the cigarette was like the first sip of my morning coffee. It relaxed my muscles, eased my body, and cleared my mind. 

If my mother caught me smoking, I wouldn’t hear the end of it. Not like I cared. I wasn’t the favorite, not by a long shot. That was Angie, but still, I didn’t want to hear my mother’s mouth run a Nile-mile marathon.

I peered toward the blue-eyed stud beside me. He was the Jordan Ryder from the big screen, and though our town was small, everyone most likely knew who he was. 

His eyes perused the area as though he was waiting for something.

“Why are you so skittish?” I flicked off the ashes, the black and white falling to the ground, scattering in the wind. 

“I came into town unannounced and want to stay incognito.” He exhaled a puff of smoke, and I watched as the bubble of white fizzled into the air. “Safety-wise, I’ve got Dex. He’s right over there.”

“Who?”

“One of my bodyguards.”

He tipped his chin toward the street where I took in an intimidating, wrestler-looking, bald-headed, over six-foot-tall male. A brick wall in an all-black suit, standing by the Lincoln. How hadn’t I noticed him before? 

“Are you famous or something?” My face was steady, straight, and without humor. 

“You’re killing me here, Christene. Do you really not know who I am?” He placed a hand over his heart, feigning hurt. 

Too bad I knew he was acting. I bet he pulled this cute act on all the women. And the problem was, he didn’t have to pull any act. He was charming just standing there, mute. 

“I thought your sister would have told you by now.” 

I’d met him months ago when I was trying to find Angie. I’d traveled to Cade’s hometown, and when Jordan opened the door, I knew immediately who he was. His face was plastered all over gossip rags and entertainment shows. But I’d decided to play coy at the time. Now, it was time to stop the game. 

He was beyond recognizable. I believed I’d passed his billboard advertising cologne, on the highway. 

“Okay, fine. Angie told me who you were, and I guess I did recognize you from somewhere.”

This time, he smiled, dimple on his chin and all, and I was filled with a strange inner excitement. 

“I knew it.” He pointed a finger in my direction, smiling.

“But, honestly, you look better on-screen. You look so different, um … in person.” I laughed because of the way I’d said it, it sounded bad, but it couldn’t have been further from the truth. He was like an Adonis in the flesh, but I didn’t want to inflate his ego any further than it already was.

I tilted my head toward the meathead standing by the car. I’d lived my life flying free, doing what I wanted. I didn’t find it surprising that Jordan had a bodyguard, just an inconvenience. “Can you leave without him?”

He took another drag from his cig, his cheeks pulling in. “Nope. Mobs of fans, stalkers—yes, plural—on the loose. Restraining order against one of them.” 

“Stalkers on the loose?”

“Yeah. Not about to go into it. Plus, it’s more for the studio than me. They want their moneymaker to stay in one piece.” He shrugged. “It’s normal in my line of work.” His tone was flat, monotone, as though that were the regular life for everyone—being watched, someone on your tail all the time.

I couldn’t imagine it. I wondered if, in the same position, I’d take the money and fame and give up my privacy and my ability to be free. Nope. I couldn’t do it. 

Our eyes locked for a moment, and I blurted my thoughts out loud, “It sucks to be you.”

He winced, a short, immediate reaction, and if I had blinked, I would have missed it. 

“Some would say I live the life.” There was no inflection in his voice, no heart in his tone.

“Of a prisoner.” 

He lived a life confined by his fortunes. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean …” I bit my cheek to prevent myself from being too honest. 

His gaze clouded, his eyes going distant, and then he surprised me. “Yeah, sometimes.” 

I hadn’t expected those words to come out of his mouth. I sensed we were built the same—cocky and with a lot of pride inside. My brain-to-mouth filter was emotion-proof, meaning I’d never reveal my true vulnerabilities. I guessed his wasn’t.

He flicked his cig to the ground and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Want to get inside?” Then, his lips tipped up into a confident smile, and it was as if I’d imagined that tiny, unprotected side I’d witnessed. “Because I want to get inside …” His voice trailed off, seductive and alluding to things that made a shiver of pleasure run through me. 

When his eyes roamed my body, I laughed and slapped his shoulder. “For an actor, I’d think you’d have more game.”

The ovary-bursting smile made an appearance again, and I strolled past him to get to the doors of Allswell to join the rest of the party.

The music was bumping, and the restaurant was decked out in purple and white balloons, matching the white table linen and purple napkins, which were my sister’s favorite colors. The ambience was perfect, just how I’d planned it. 

Fine, the surprise had been ruined, but that didn’t mean the rest of the night wouldn’t flow effortlessly. It had to. Dinner would be served at eight p.m., dancing until nine forty-five, and cake and candle blowing at ten. After which, I’d be done and at home and in bed by eleven p.m. I had to be. I had an early morning meeting with a potential client to lease the Wells property. This had to happen. I needed to rent that property. 

I greeted friends as I made my way to my family’s regular table at the other end of the restaurant. It seemed as though Cade had invited the whole town. The restaurant wasn’t closed to the public, but the majority of people were here for my sister. 

When I glanced behind me, Jordan was a few feet away, but now, his cap hovered over his eyes, drawn low over his head to hide his high-profile self. I reached for his hand, ignoring the shock of his skin against mine and the warmth of our connection spreading down my arm. 

I tipped his baseball cap and leaned in. “Let it go. No one will know who you are here in Rosendell. You might be big and bad and beautiful in Hollywood, but not here.”

“I’m not used to a crowd this big unless it’s for a work function, and then I’m there to do a job.” He shifted with unease. “When I hang outside of work, it’s usually just with my brothers.”

I noticed that his bodyguard hadn’t trailed him. Maybe he had given him instructions not to come inside. Who knew? 

“Well, your brothers are here.” I angled my head toward the long table on the side, taking in Cade and Wyatt—his adopted brothers—chatting it up with my parents. 

My sister joined in the conversation with her overly animated facial expressions and hand gestures. I smiled. Man, did I love that little squirt. I had to make sure the DJ I’d hired had Angie’s favorite dancing songs. 

When Jordan didn’t budge, I gripped his hand tighter and pulled him toward the table.

For a minute, I was a breathless girl of thirteen, palms sweaty, pulse pumping, and mouth dry. I was holding hands with Jordan Ryder. I dimmed my fangirl moment, but inside, my heartbeat raced. 

Keep it together. 

When Angie saw us approaching the table, she jumped up from her spot. “Tene! Jordan!” Her voice echoed throughout the room.

My mother’s eyes were trained on Jordan and our intertwined fingers. I couldn’t read her face. Over time, she’d perfected the ability to remain stone-faced while her mind went into overdrive. Bravo for my mother. It was how I’d learned my poker face so well.

The stern look on Cade’s face made it clear what he thought of our friendly hand-holding. 

Jordan noticed, too, because he dropped my fingers as though I had some sort of hand disease. 

The rejection pricked like a pin through my skin, piercing and sharp. That was what I got for changing up my tune and being nice for once. I’d been trying to put him at ease but no more of that. 

Angie’s arms wrapped around me first before embracing Jordan. “I’m so glad you came. I know your schedule is crazy busy with filming.”

I pushed my way past them and went toward my nana. I hugged her fiercely. 

“Tene, you dating that hot bod over there?” Her smile lit up my insides. 

My grandmother—Nana—was the queen of celebrity gossip. She had subscriptions to every single celebrity magazine, watched every award show, and binge-watched practically every sitcom featuring all the hottest stars. Plus, she lived at the movie theater on the weekends.

“You know who that is, don’t you?” I whispered, leaning into her. 

She squinted and angled closer as though it would better her vision. She stared at the hottie talking it up with Cade and Wyatt, and I knew the exact second she recognized him. Her mouth opened, and her lips formed a small O. 

Nana was the cutest, hippest, five-foot-nothing grandma. Other grandmas were knitting and going to bridge club. My grandma was memorizing star stats and going to the movies by herself to make sure she wasn’t missing out.

“That can’t be …” Her wrinkled hand flew to her heart. She pushed her eyeglasses up her nose, bent forward, and squinted. “Jordan Ryder?” In the next beat, she stood. “Excuse me. I think I might introduce myself.” Nana was a cougar on a mission.

I shook my head, amused, and then walked over to greet Wyatt, who was standing aloof by himself in the corner, ditching the crowd he’d been talking to. Wyatt Ryder. What could I say about him other than he was quieter than a mouse and easily as attractive as the other brothers? And I’d heard he was richer than the other two Ryder boys, combined. 

His shoulders were slumped, his head downturned. If you didn’t initiate conversation, Wyatt would stay to himself the whole night. A few months ago, I’d seen he was growing out a dark brown beard. Now, it was in full scruffy, lumberjack mode. It was pretty hot if you were into beards. Me? I preferred the good-looking, clean-cut types. 

The brothers all had their separate, distinct characteristics. No doubt all gorgeous, but there was something deep and dark and hidden in Wyatt’s soul. I had good people radar. And my radar read this man as someone who was still searching for who he wanted to be.

“Hey, Wyatt.”

“Hey.” He waved with his free hand while the other held a beer. 

I followed his gaze to the ground. What the hell is he staring at?

“Have you been in town long?” 

He nodded, his eyes focused anywhere but on mine. “Yeah.” 

“How long will you be staying?”

“For a little bit. I’ve started filming my documentary on social situations.” The corners of his lips tipped upward, and his eyes flickered toward me and then back to the ground. 

“In Rosendell?” 

Angie hadn’t mentioned that Wyatt was in town long or that he was filming here. Wyatt had a bachelor’s in fine arts with a concentration in film and cinema. Ironic, given the father he’d just met within the last few years, was the biggest media mogul in the nation. 

“Yeah, it’s nothing, really. Just in certain pockets of Rosendell. But I think it’s going to be good.” His smile widened. Whatever he was working on, he either enjoyed or believed in his project—or both. 

“So, is this project for one of your dad’s companies?”

His facial features dropped, the smile no longer on his face. “Yeah.” He blew out an audible breath, and silence ticked on between us. “And just because we share the same blood, he’s not my dad.”

Noted. And awkward. “Yeah. I get that. Sorry.” 

I stared at him, noticing a scar I hadn’t seen before at his temple. It was faint, but it was a scar, nonetheless. I wondered what building he’d jumped off, thinking he was Superman. I wondered what age he’d gotten that scar. And I wondered how I could change the subject and quick. 

“You staying with Cade and Angie?”

“Yeah.”

A man with only one-word answers.

And then the conversation was over, and I was done. 

“Well, drink up, man. It’s open bar.” I slapped his shoulder, smirked, and then headed to meet the rest of the family—my father first, seated at the head of the table. 

His jolly laughter had me smiling, and when he pulled me into his Santa Claus hug, I relaxed into him. The heart surgery that had happened a few months ago seemed to be successful, but he had retired permanently, and now, Angie and I were taking the reins of our multi-million-dollar real estate company—Armstrong Realty LLC.

He squeezed me harder, and my smile widened. 

Where Angie was everyone’s girl, I was Daddy’s girl. He was the toughest on me, but only because he wanted me to succeed, as though he was always rooting for me, rooting for the underdog to win. That was why I’d made it my lifelong mission to never, ever let him down. Tomorrow, I had to secure this deal and rent out the Wells property, which had been causing a bleed in our bottom line for too long. 

When Dad released me, I turned to greet my mother. 

“Tene.” There it was—the flat, disparaging tone. Her way of letting me know I had just done something wrong, even though I’d only been in the room a few minutes. 

“Mother,” I uttered. My tone lacked its chipper mood. I scratched at my brow and fidgeted under her scrutiny. 

She was still mad at me for breaking her dead mother’s china last week at a formal family function. A single plate. Did she care that it had been an accident? Did she care that I felt horrible? Did she care that I’d apologized left and right and up and down and in and out? No. She never even liked Grandmother. 

All she cared about was that I had done it, and she had someone to blame—me.

And I still had to hug her and pretend we had a perfect relationship because it would only upset my father if I didn’t.

I leaned into her, and she pressed her cheek against mine, like the Europeans we weren’t. 

When she pulled back, she lifted an eyebrow, eyeing Jordan and Nana chatting it up. “So, is that the new man of the hour?” She adjusted her diamond stud earring and lifted her chin. “Isn’t that Cade’s brother?” 

“I just walked in with him, Mom. I’m not dating him.”

“You wouldn’t want to ruin things between Angie and Cade, would you? Mess things up for them with another one of your flings?”

The ringing in my ears heightened, the sound of my blood buzzing behind my ears, something only associated with Mother dearest. I wished the noise could drown her out, but it never did. 

“I’m not going to ruin anything Cade and Angie have.” Tension rose to my shoulders and strained the veins in my neck. My hands clenched and unclenched, but my tone was utterly even. One quality that I’d inherited from her was self-control and the ability to master the poker face. 

“That’s good. Angie’s promotional party was already ruined.” She paused long and hard, staring at me as though it were my fault. 

I rubbed at my temple and held back the colorful word on the tip of my tongue. Technically, Jordan had ruined the surprise. 

She blamed me for practically everything—for the high-crime statistics, for the outcome of the election, for global warming. I could never get a break from this woman—ever. It wasn’t like I’d done anything to her. I just refused to play by her rules, unlike perfect Angie. It didn’t matter because everything I did would be criticized, along with every move I made and every breath I took. If there was a wrong way or right way to breathe, my mother would find fault in mine. 

“And now, it’s time for drinks.” I pointed and headed to the bar, feeling her judgmental eyes on me the whole time. 

I walked toward my sister and linked my arm through hers, dragging us to our drinking destination. “Shots. Shots. Shots.” 

Cade was footing the bill, so the point of tonight would be to keep drinking and drinking to drown my mother’s disappointing voice in my head.

“Oh, hell,” Tara, my sassy friend, spat out, draining the last of her beer. 

I followed her line of sight to the door, and my stomach dropped and kept on going. 

Of all the places that Logan could show up, it was at this restaurant on this night, where I couldn’t escape. 

“What’s that asshole doing here?” She scowled in his direction. “Why couldn’t he move to Mexico or to some remote island where we wouldn’t have to see his face?” 

God, did I love my friends. They always had my back. 

“You sure you don’t want me to stay?” 

I shook my head. “No. It’s fine. You told Emery you’d help her at JobOps.” 

Tara and Emery were my closest friends from college. But with life and jobs and family in the way, we hardly hung out anymore. 

I pressed my cheek against Tara’s. “Later, babe.” 

He strolled in, wearing his pressed dark slacks and signature favorite white polo shirt that I had bought him for Christmas. 

Logan Price. The one. The only. The Ex.

The ex-boyfriend who had broken my heart but not “on purpose,” as he’d said. Yeah, fucking right. 

Camilla was on his arm. 

Memories of heartbreak bombarded my brain. The breakup had once weakened me to a woman I didn’t recognize. And it was all his fault. 

I’d lost weight, lost my love of food, my love of laughter, my love of life. He’d done that to me with his betrayal. Grief and despair tore at my heart, and at times, taking my will to live. It had taken months to get over him, to get some semblance of normalcy back. Even now, I knew I’d never be the same after him. He’d taken a part of me—that innocent part of me that had hope; hope that believed in forever love. 

Camilla stood right beside him—his first choice, the girl before and after me. And she merely stared, tongue-tied.

Camilla’s blonde hair was tucked into a low ponytail, and her features screamed innocence, though she was anything but. She had known we were dating. The problem was, she’d wanted Logan back, and she’d won.

What I couldn’t do on a night like tonight was lose composure, go psycho Tene, and cause a scene. Not on my baby sister’s special night.

They both paused at the door and took everything in—from the balloons to the decor to the crazy-ass sign that my parents had made that said, Congratulations.

Maybe they’d leave. It wasn’t a private event, but other patrons had left, knowing it wasn’t a regular night at Allswell. 

But Nana spotted them first and waved them over to my family’s table. My mother stood to greet them, pressing her cheek against Logan’s and shaking Camilla’s hand. 

My family thought we’d ended amicably. It seemed as though my father knew better because he remained rooted in his seat, turned the other way, chatting it up with Wyatt.

I loved my daddy through and through. 

My mother had loved Logan because she thought he was the perfect man to tame my wild self. When we had broken up, she had been relentless with the unending questions of why—Why isn’t he coming around anymore? Why are you broken up?  

The answer I never gave her was the truth. He didn’t want me. I wasn’t good enough. 

“You going to drink the night away?” 

The stark, familiar blue eyes raked over my face, and I shifted on the barstool, focusing my attention on something new—Jordan. 

“There’s nothing like having a good time.” At times, I believed I got drunk on purpose for my mother to see. To be more defiant. Or maybe … maybe it was to forget about her entirely.

“Baby, I’m all about a good time, but there’s also something called alcohol poisoning.” 

His smile was actor beautiful—too good to be real, too impossible not to fall for. I bet he paid to have his teeth whitened daily. 

My eyes teetered to the far end of the restaurant, where my family was chatting it up with The Ex, and I shrank into myself, not wanting to be seen. 

“What’s the sour face for?” Jordan raised his hand to the bartender to get another drink.

I tipped my chin to the left, and Jordan followed my line of sight to our families congregated at the other end of the restaurant. 

“Who is that?”

“The Ex,” I spat out like acid was at the back of my throat. 

“And I take it you two didn’t end well.” Jordan eyed Logan across the room. 

“Nope.” I tipped back my beer, feeling the cold liquid hit the back of my throat. “That’s his first girlfriend. Let’s just say, she never got over him and begged him to come back—literally, on her knees.”

He threw a few bills on the counter and grabbed his beer. “Literally?”

“Yes. I caught him with his pants down. Her on her knees.” I laughed without humor. 

“Ouch.” Jordan flinched.

“It’s fine. He was never over her. It was like he was only half in with me.” 

I should have trusted my gut. It’d started with innocent texts, her asking him if he still had her stuff. Their families were intertwined, and we’d see Camilla at family parties. I couldn’t get over the way he looked at her, as though they weren’t done. 

“They’re coming over here,” Jordan said. 

Nana pointed in my direction, and when our gazes met, Camilla and Logan waved. 

And I waved back, clenching my teeth in a fake smile, my jaw locked. 

“Why are they coming here?” I whispered under my breath. “I don’t want to deal with this shit right now.” I seethed, still smiling.

Logan approached, holding Camilla’s hand within his, swinging their arms between them.

“Tene.” Logan’s smile wavered.

“Hey.” Oh, God. Not today. Please. My hand fisted around the cold beer bottle, and I willed it to cool the heat rising within me. 

I didn’t want to fake it in front of these people. I wanted to call Logan out for being the cheating bastard he was. 

The last time we’d spoken six months ago was when I caught them in the most compromising position. I still had his toothbrush and his teddy bear that I had stolen from his bedroom, the one his grandmother had given him.

He’d asked for it back via text. I hadn’t bothered replying. 

“I had no idea there was a celebration here tonight.” Logan’s voice was low, nervous. 

His eyes teetered between Jordan and me. I guessed he didn’t recognize the star, given that Jordan’s baseball cap was drawn low over his eyes. 

“Yeah. It’s a long time coming. Angie was ready for partner last year.” My heart beat loudly against the chambers of my chest. I couldn’t for the life of me stop picturing the last time I had seen him with her, like a bad porno playing over and over in my brain. The heat spread behind my eyes, rage brewing below the surface of my skin. I was so angry that I wanted to cry. 

“Tene, the last time we saw each other—” he drawled out. 

I lifted a hand, not wanting to relive the moment I could never forget—the moment he’d betrayed me. “You know what? That’s water under the bridge.” My voice shook, barely under control. 

The gush of air that escaped his lungs was audible. “Thank God. I just wanted to explain—”

“No need to explain. I saw everything. Remember?” I stood and lifted the beer bottle. Taking it deep into my mouth, I tipped it back and released it with a pop, smiling blatantly at Camilla.

Her cheeks flushed red, almost as red as they had been when I walked in on them. 

“Hey.” Jordan slipped off the barstool and wrapped a warm hand around my hip, pulling me close. 

My whole body was wired stiff, and I almost fell backward. 

“I’m Jordan, by the way.” He flipped his hat backward, showing off that beautiful, recognizable actor face.

What the … I’d thought he was going incognito. 

Logan blinked, and his mouth slipped ajar. He took in a sharp breath of utter astonishment.

“And you are?” 

Logan and Camilla were stunned and tongue-tied. Camilla might as well have had emoji hearts in her eyes. Starstruck was an understatement.

My shoulders eased, and I relaxed against his lean, muscled frame. The scent of cigarettes and beer and a cologne that was all masculine filled my nostrils.

Goodness, I could kiss Jordan right now. 

Logan had nothing on Jordan—not his height, his build, his good looks, or his millions of dollars. My insides soared. 

Let them think what they want. 

“Jordan … Jordan Ryder?” Camilla asked, her voice shaky. Her trembling hand flew to her lips. 

“In the flesh.” His voice was cocky, confident in a way that oozed sex appeal. 

I pictured him pounding his chest like a caveman.

Camilla’s smile spread across her face, and she hopped on her toes, but Jordan’s focus was on The Ex.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t get your name.” He took a step forward and firmly shook Logan’s hand. The veins in his forearms protruded. 

“Logan.” Logan motioned between Jordan and me. “So … you two …”

“I’m just using her for sex,” Jordan said, which made me want to throat-punch him. 

I angled away, and the look I gave him had him pulling me in closer. Was that the only thing I could ever offer a man? Was that the first impression I always gave off? 

He peered down at me with a glint of teasing in his eyes. “I’m kidding.” He nuzzled my neck, and his warm breath sent tingles down my back. “It’s just the beginning, but I’m determined to know everything about her. I’m already impressed by her independence, smitten with her beauty, and entertained by her smart mouth.” 

I blinked. 

Wow. 

He was good. 

No wonder this guy won awards.

If we were doing a scene on a set, he’d be totally believable. 

He brushed my cheek with his thumb, and I sighed silently, melting into him because he was just that beautiful. 

Our eyes locked for far too long until Logan cleared his throat. 

“Yeah, it’s good that she’s found someone.” 

His words snapped me into the present.

I gritted my teeth and flipped back to face him. Did he think I wouldn’t? “Nice seeing you, Logan.” My voice was cold and lashing. I turned on my heels, dropped my hand into Jordan’s, and stomped away.

I heard him calling after me, “Tene, I didn’t mean it that way.”

“One man’s loss is another man’s gain,” Jordan yelled back. Then, he pinched my ass, and I slapped his hand away.

“Hey, Jordan, do you think we can get an autograph?” Camilla yelled above the noise.

My heels dug into the floor. I wanted to sink into the ground, disappear, drop from the earth. Better yet, I wanted to take off my stilettos and chuck them at Logan.

“So, I guess that would be a no to the autograph.” Jordan chuckled. He hooked an arm around my neck and brought me closer. 

“Don’t even think about it,” I grumbled. My feet led us back to the table where our families were congregated. “Let’s just help Nana finish that bottle of wine.”

* * *

An hour later and after a bottle of wine, we were at the bar. Logan Price was long gone and had been replaced by the People’s Sexiest Man Alive award recipient—Jordan Ryder.

Sigh.

If he was the last thing I looked at for the rest of my life, I’d die a happy woman. 

My cheeks warmed, and I knew I needed to pace myself, or I’d complicate my life by sleeping with the male in front of me. And he was definitely off-limits.

Uncomplicated, detached, easy relationships. Especially after all I’d been through. That was all I could handle right now. And Jordan was choice D—none of the above. 

“Aw, poor baby boy, who I can probably outdrink. Did you want me to order you a Cosmo or buy you a lemon drop shot? Let’s live on the edge today, shall we?” I sassed.

He laughed, but in the next second, he leaned into me, so close that I could smell his last cigarette. I needed one. A drag, but this time, from his mouth.

“I used to live my life on the edge. Haven’t been there in a while, but …” He licked his lips. “… I’m tempted to do it again.” His eyes combed my body, dipping lower before making it back up my neck and landing on my lips.

He was flirting, definitely flirting. And I drank it all up. All of it—his attention, his firm hand on my hip, and his scent that I could bottle up and sell for thousands on the black market. 

The air sizzled; unspoken words were shared between us. His gaze was beyond intimate, and I had to tear my eyes away for a second so I could breathe, formulate my next thought. I wondered if this was natural for him like he could never turn off this heat.

I got more than my share of looks from fine men, but it was usually the good-boy kind who were attracted to me. The ones I could tease and tame and train. Jordan seemed all bad boy and gorgeous—like my twin but in the male form—and that unnerved me. 

The lull in the room was broken when “SexyBack” by Justin Timberlake burst through the speakers. 

I placed my beer on the bar and stood. “Let’s dance.”

He smirked. That panty-dropping, party-stopping, pant-inducing smirk. “I don’t think you can keep up.”

Oh, boy. A challenge? Did this guy just throw a challenge in my face? Does he not know I was on the varsity poms squad in high school? 

I flicked his shoulder. “You might just be a pretty face. Let’s see if you can actually dance or if I prefer you just standing there mute.”

His stare wavered between the dance floor and me. “You know what? I wouldn’t want to outdo every guy on that dance floor. Let’s sit this one out.”

“Um … no.” I grabbed his hand, ignored the electric fire that coursed through my veins at his touch, and pulled us through the crowd to the middle of the dance floor. 

He wrapped one arm around my waist, pressed himself flush against my body, and then whispered in my ear, “Were you born on a farm?”

I reeled back, already smiling. “What?”

“Because you really know how to raise a cock.”

I rolled my eyes and laughed. Press release: Jordan is a certified dork. “Don’t tell me you use that on those models you date. I would’ve thought you had better lines.”

“I usually don’t have to think of lines to impress the ladies.”

I wrapped my arms around his neck. “Does that mean you’re trying to impress me?” 

“Maybe.” 

The rhythm of the music blasted through the speakers. The pounding of the bass shook my feet, forcing me closer to Jordan. The strobe lights flashed around us, and I swiveled my hips, shaking my body to the music. The way his body was pushed up against mine was electric. Fire and heat coursed through me, through him, through both of us.

His eyes darkened, and when his hand made its way to my hip, I knew I, the devil temptress herself, had succeeded in drawing him in. 

He stepped into me, our hips and our chests in sync with the bumping beats in the background. My breathing matched his. Slow, shallow, and seductive. He angled closer, his gaze making my heart and pulse and ears pound, sending a dizzying current through my body. 

He dropped his mouth to my ear. “Damn, you’re sexy.”

“Not bad.” I was talking about his line, not about how sexy I was. 

A small smile touched my lips, and I turned around and slowly backed into him. With one hand pressed to my stomach, he pulled me against him, and I felt the hardness of his length thicken. I guessed I had been born on a farm. 

A ball of sexual tension formed in my gut. It had been a long time since I had sex. If three months was a dry spell, I was experiencing a drought. 

When his nose grazed my ear, my nipples pebbled against my halter top. 

“You smell like fucking strawberries.” 

I angled my head, so he could hear. “You want a taste?” A lick to sample some of my sweetness. Because every part of me wanted to taste his lips, feel his tongue against mine. 

Throwing away all self-control, I turned around and wrapped my arms around his neck. The sizzle between us, the electricity around us, was heightened by the closeness of our bodies and the warm breaths shared between us. His heavy-lidded eyes locked onto mine, and the world around me stood still.

Beautiful was an understatement. His blue eyes sparkled against the strobe lights flashing across the room. His face had been made to be on the big screen. His chiseled jaw and his kissable lips—the bottom lip fuller than the top, the bow shape on his upper lip, inviting women to kiss him. And that dimple on his chin, there as if to say, My lips aren’t enough; lick farther down. 

When he dropped his head, I lifted my chin in response to his silent question. Closer and closer, one more centimeter and our lips would finally and blissfully meet. My eyes fell shut, and I inhaled deeply and breathed him in before— 

“Hey!”

Jordan jumped back at Cade’s booming voice like he had been doused with a cold pail of water. The move was so abrupt that I nearly fell over and stumbled on my heels. Again.

If Cade was going for the scary factor, he was winning. 

Cade’s lips thinned, and his eyes narrowed, zoning in on Jordan. “Hey.” The music was loud, but Cade was louder. 

The crowd around us made room for him to pass as though he were Moses parting the Red Sea. Strobe lights worked the room, highlighting the planes on Cade’s face, making his features seem mean and menacing. 

“I know how to throw a good party, right?” Cade’s voice heightened above the music, but there was no lightness in his features. 

Jordan adjusted himself, his boner sticking out like a jumbo dog at the ballpark. “Yeah. Good party.” 

In the sea of dancing bodies, we were the only ones standing utterly still.

Angie trailed behind Cade, her face transparent, mouth downturned and pouty, just like when she had been younger and would throw a tantrum. Her silent hostility was aimed toward her boyfriend. 

Cade’s tone was light, but his eyes burned with annoyance, and the vein in his temple throbbed. 

Jordan ran one hand through his light locks, fisting them at the top of his head. “You know what? I think I’m going to call it a night. I had a long day. Tired and all of that.”

Angie’s jaw tightened. “Don’t be ridiculous. This is my party, and I say you stay and have fun. You guys go ahead.” She motioned between us with her pointer finger, encouraging us. 

We both blinked at her, unmoving, stoic—which only caused the frown on her face to deepen. 

She shook her shoulders in what seemed to be a dance move. “Keep dancing, and don’t mind Cade over here.” 

She tugged at his shirt, but Cade didn’t budge, didn’t move, didn’t breathe. He simply stared at Jordan with a brewing hostility.

What was his problem? Did he want to kiss Jordan instead? Anyway, I thought I needed to get Cade a shot of Calm the Hell Down.

Angie’s face scrunched up and hardened, her usual soft features vanishing. “I’m going to get another drink.” And then she stormed away, unsteady in my heels. She’d break my shoe—or worse, break her ankle—the way she stomped the heels into the ground.

Cade cocked his head, and then he focused his attention on his retreating girlfriend. “Fucking A!” He threw Jordan one aggravated look and pointed a finger in his direction. “See, it’s started already. We’re having a chat later.” Then, he stormed after my sister.

Okay … that was weird.

Jordan pinched the bridge of his nose, dropped his head, and blew out a deep breath. Then, he moved to the side of the dance floor.

“What was that about?” I asked. My eyes bounced between Cade and my sister at the bar and then to Jordan.

“Your sister overheard Cade and me talking.”

“And?”

“It was a warning.”

“About?” I lifted an eyebrow.

“Rules, per se.” He smiled and ducked his head, looking sheepish for once. 

Aw, isn’t he cute?

“Get on with it,” I prodded, hands on my hips.

“His exact words were, ‘You’d better not fuck Angie’s sister, or I’ll fuck up your face.’ And I like my face. I’ve been told I have a good one. And this face …” He pointed to said beautiful actor face. “… pays the bills.” Jordan stared at the floor, avoiding eye contact. “It’s more than that, but I’d rather not go into it.” When his gaze met mine again, his tone turned serious. “I’m sorry about earlier. I shouldn’t be flirting … not with you.”

I wanted to tell him that it was a little late for that, given I’d felt his boner pushing against his jeans. 

Clearly, he intended to follow the rules, like a good brother. I tipped my chin up, refusing to show my disappointment because, clearly, there was an attraction here. Coloring within the friendly lines was probably for the best because we wouldn’t want to complicate things by screwing. 

“Well, if you’re following the rules, we must do so while drinking. Otherwise, where’s the fun in that?”

He tilted his head, assessing me. Then, after a beat, he tipped his chin toward the bar. “After you, my lady.”

I grabbed his hand and tugged him toward the bar, where we downed more beverages. 

And a-drinking we shall go.