“Nice to meet you,” Maisey said to me.
I waved them both off and let out a little sigh of relief when they were gone. Alone at last. Not that I could do anything about it. I cursed under my breath as I watched Chelsea sit back down and prop her notebook on her lap.
I pushed myself out of the pool and casually strolled to the seat beside Chelsea.
She threw her towel onto it. “Seat’s taken.”
Laughing, I walked around to the chair on the other side of her.
“That one is taken too.”
“What?” I laughed again, this time incredulously.
She peered over her shades. “I’m working, and you’re distracting me.”
I placed my hands on my hips. “How so?”
It was an invitation for her to look. I knew I had a good body. I worked hard to stay fit. But she didn’t take the bait. Instead she pointed at the set of chairs on the other side of the pool. “There’s plenty of space.”
With a glance in the direction she was pointing, I let out a sigh and made my way over, my very hard tail between my legs.
8
Chelsea
When I woke from my nap by the pool, Liam was gone, and despite my better judgment, my chest sank. We’d been hard-core flirting earlier, which wouldn’t have been an entirely bad thing if it weren’t for the fact that my tiny nugget of a crush was growing faster than I was ready for. I still didn’t even know the guy, and even if I did, he wouldn’t be staying long.
I wasn’t surprised to find out that Liam was a former athlete. Something about the way he cut through the water looked like he’d been doing it his whole life. There were times I’d wondered if he ever came up for air, but I knew now he was just that well trained.
That was one mystery solved, but I had a strong feeling that Liam was hiding something bigger than an old career as a swimmer. And while I was curious to find out more about him, it was only fair for me to hide my writing from him. I had never shown my writing to anyone, let alone discussed the content. So far, Liam knew more than anyone else in my life, including Maisey.
Sure, my best friend knew I loved creative writing. We’d taken plenty of classes together in high school and college for her to know that much. But she didn’t know that I’d been secretly writing novels and hiding them under my bed as if I would get in trouble for them.
Maisey and I were complete opposites. After obtaining her masters, Maisey had locked down a paralegal position at her father’s law firm and had no plans of stopping soon. For her, there’d only been one man in her life. She’d been in love with Roger since we were freshmen in high school, even though they hadn’t started dating until college. Basically, Maisey had her shit together, while I did not.
She was practical while I was whimsical, and I couldn’t imagine her supporting my crazy new venture. I’d finally sent my book off to my chosen editor that morning and immediately started plotting another. I was going to see this dream through if it was the last thing I did, no matter my fears.
I showered off the sun from the day, washed my hair, and threw on a pair of panties and a black crop top sans the bra. Surprisingly, I’d gotten a lot of rewrites done. With Liam as my inspiration, the ideas flowed like an open faucet. I would reward myself tonight with a movie and chill.
When a knock came at the door, I froze in a panic. Tempted to ignore it completely, I threw on some boy shorts just in case I lost the courage. My heart raced, and I knew it was because I’d been trying to avoid thoughts of Liam. Why did he have to make it so impossible?
He’d been such a distraction at the pool, even sitting on the other side of it. With his bronze skin and sexy abs, and his navy trunks that were tight enough to announce his arousal every time I shifted my position. The only thing I found myself jotting in my idea book were notes about him. His tall and lean body, his cocky sense of humor, his alternative style. By the end of the day, I’d had my next book, Hero, plotted with no effort at all.
I swung open my front door, expecting to see Liam’s sideways grin and his goofy charm ready to encourage me to do something I knew I shouldn’t do, like go to dinner or go for a naked swim in the pool—which, of course, I would turn down—but it wasn’t Liam at all.
“Dean?” I felt my face drain of blood.
My ex-boyfriend looked amazing in a silver button-down shirt, black trousers, and his short natural waves perfectly combed back. When I’d been a little girl and had pictured my future husband, he had been the spitting image of Dean with his pretty green eyes, cleanly shaven face, broad shoulders, and friendly smile combined with his businesslike appearance. At first glance, he was utter perfection.
But then I remembered the frequent late nights at the accounting office where he interned and the brazen forgetfulness of my birthday and our two-year anniversary and the way he shamelessly flirted with his clients right in front of me at work functions, and my stomach churned with discomfort.
“Hey, beautiful. Aren’t you going to invite me in?”
His easy smile, his confident greeting, it was like it had slipped his mind that we’d broken up two months ago. My blood started to boil.
What the hell? I let out a laugh to cover my growing anger. “That’s probably not a good idea. I’ve already got plans.”
Dean’s eyes slipped not so subtly down my body and took in my attire. My I-definitely-do-not-have-plans attire, and his perfect smile grew wider. “I could join you, order us some takeout, hang out on the couch just like old times.”
“More like ancient times. Dean, movie nights with you were torture. Your eyes were glued to your phone, and you always asked me to explain everything going on because you weren’t paying attention.”
Something flashed in his eyes, and his jaw hardened slightly. “Look, Chels, I miss you. I’m here to fix whatever the hell I did wrong to make you leave me.” He reached inside his pocket and shoved his phone at me. “Here, hide it from me. I don’t care. I just want to be with you again.”
My heart should have melted like glaciers in the sun. This was what all women wanted, right? To be the one who got away? To have an ex realize just how much they were missing out on? I thought if it ever happened to me that I would feel conflicted, torn by my stubbornness to show him how well I was doing without him and my desire to have what we’d left behind. Except—I didn’t have those feelings of regret. Not a shred, and it was the first time since our breakup that I realized it.
“I’m sorry, Dean. As I said, I already have plans. You should go.” I started to close the door, but Dean’s hand shot out, keeping it open.
“Wait.” He spoke on a rushed breath. “Can’t we just talk for a minute?” His gentle eyes were wide and filled with desperation. “When you broke up with me, I didn’t think you really meant it, Chels. I thought you were just angry.”
“I was angry.” I laughed, still managing to keep my rising frustration at bay. “I was angry, and you didn’t give a shit, so we broke up. It’s actually very simple.”
“But I love you. You can’t just walk away from us like we never mattered.”
“Really? Because I think she already did.” The deep voice behind Dean shocked my heart right out of my chest.