by Elle Kennedy
Her lips tightened in offense. “I told you, I’m not a relationship person. They never last for me.”
Matt barked out a humorless laugh. “Because maybe you haven’t found the right man, ever thought of that? If you’re not meant to be with someone, obviously the relationship will end. But when you find the right person…” He let the comment hang.
“And I suppose you’re the right person for me?” She scoffed. “We’ve known each other a couple of weeks, Matt. Besides, it won’t work out between us.”
He raised one dark eyebrow. “Do you have psychic powers I’m not aware of? How do you know it won’t work out?”
She raked the fingers of her left hand through her hair in an aggravated gesture. “Because it never does. Not for me, anyway. Something always ends up going wrong.”
“Maybe it won’t this time,” he said quietly.
“And maybe it will.” She stuck her chin out stubbornly. “I made the decision a long time ago not to take that chance anymore. I don’t want any more broken hearts. And I’m tired of the awful sense of boredom and sadness I feel when the thrill ends up dying out.”
Realizing she was still naked, she scrambled off the bed and angrily rummaged on the floor for her clothes. She shoved on her jeans without bothering with underwear, threw her shirt over her head, and crossed her arms. “Look, I really do like you,” she said, softening her tone. “Enough that I don’t want to come to the point where I don’t like you anymore, or where you don’t like me.”
“And what if we never reach that point?” he challenged.
Her shoulders sagged wearily. “I always get to that point.”
Frustration creased his forehead. “So you’re just planning on living the rest of your life in fear, avoiding anything good that comes your way? Because damn it, Savannah, we are good. And you’re a fool to throw it away.” His voice hardened. “I told you how difficult it is for me to talk about my emotions, but I was willing to take the risk, to tell you how I feel.”
Pain circled her heart. “Matt…”
“Whatever,” he muttered darkly. “Obviously you can’t take a risk of your own.”
“That’s not fair,” she protested. “I’ve made it clear from day one what I wanted out of this. I never lied to you, or misled you.”
He released a heavy sigh. “You’re right. You didn’t. But things have changed since day one. We have the potential to be really good together, and you’re too scared to give us a chance.”
To her dismay, tears stung her eyelids. But the fact that she was about to cry only brought a spark of anger to her belly. Why was he pushing her? She’d told him her feelings about relationships. Just because he’d suddenly decided he was in love with her didn’t mean she was going to launch herself into his arms and profess her undying love.
Unbearable silence hung between them, until Matt finally cursed under his breath and took a step back. “Forget it,” he mumbled. “I’m not going to beg you to have a relationship with me. I’m not that guy. But I’m not going to pretend this is just a fling either.”
She blinked, trying to stop the tears from falling.
“So here you go,” he said in a tone lined with resignation. “You’ve got your wish. A couple of weeks of casual, no-string sex. Hope you had fun.”
Without another word, not even a goodbye, he turned his back on her and left the apartment.
Chapter Seven
“Are you drinking?”
The shrill and outraged female voice jolted Matt from his catnap. Cranking open one eyelid, he saw two pretty faces hovering above him. His fuzzy eyesight recognized Annabelle, but it took a few seconds to register the petite brunette beside her as Holly Scott, Carson’s wife. He wasn’t used to the haircut yet. Holly had recently chopped her long brown hair into a chin-length bob, which emphasized her emerald green eyes and the delicate angles of her face.
Propping himself up on the couch cushion with his elbow, he glanced at the half-empty beer bottle on the coffee table and mumbled, “It’s from last night.”
Annabelle planted her hands on her hips. “I can see the condensation dripping down the side. This was just opened.”
Holly rolled her eyes. “It’s ten in the morning, Matt. That’s so pathetic.”
No, what was pathetic was telling a woman he loved her for the first time in his life only to be shut down big-time.
But he decided not to say that aloud.
“Since when did you two become my mother?” he grumbled, sitting up with a tired yawn.
“Since you promised you’d let us borrow your SUV for the wedding today,” Annabelle snapped. “I texted you about it last night and you texted back yeppers. I took that to mean you’d help out.”
He straightened up, rolling his shoulders to get the kinks out. He’d been lying on the couch for about three days now, only dragging himself up to get a beer or use the john. Empty pizza boxes were stacked on the floor and he wrinkled his nose at the stale odor of old beer emanating from the empty bottles littered all over the room.
“Shit, I forgot about that,” he said, shooting them an apologetic look. “Do you just need the keys or am I driving you over to the banquet hall?”
“There’s a ton of stuff to carry in,” Holly said, “so it would be cool if you can come and help unload.”
“You don’t have to stay for the wedding obviously,” Annabelle added.
He lifted his arms above his head and stretched. “Okay. Let me hop in the shower and then I’ll take you.”
Leaving the two of them in the living room, he headed to the bathroom, where he took a quick shower, brushed his teeth, and shaved three days’ worth of stubble off his face. Holly was right, he realized as he stared at his tired eyes in the steamy mirror. He was pathetic. So things had ended with Savannah. Big fucking deal. It only went to show that his initial decision to stay single had been a smart one. Love made people go nuts. His sisters had turned into mushy, sappy idiots, and so had he, the night he’d told Savannah how he felt about her.
He was better off alone. Better off reverting back to his old lifestyle, making sure things stayed light, and keeping his damn feelings to himself.
After dressing in jeans and a T-shirt, he reentered the living room to find that it was now spotless. In the ten minutes he’d been gone, Annabelle and Holly had carted off the pizza boxes, gotten rid of the beer bottles and even wiped down his coffee table. The flowery scent of air freshener hung in the large space, and both women were sitting on a couch now cleared of the random items of clothing previously strewn on it.
“Jeez, you really are my mother,” he muttered.
Holly looked over at him with sharp green eyes. “What happened with Savannah? Did she dump you?”
“No.” He set his jaw. “I dumped her.”
Two pairs of wide eyes.
“Why would you do that?” Annabelle demanded.
“None of your business.” He swiped his keys from the little basket on the table by the couch and jiggled them. “Do you want a ride or not?”
He could practically feel the curiosity radiating from them, but to his extreme surprise, neither female pushed him for details. He chalked it up to the wedding they were heading to, knowing that if the two weren’t occupied with something else right now, they’d be all over him, prying information from him like a dentist extracting teeth.
“We need to stop by Shelby’s bakery,” Holly said as she slid into the backseat of the SUV. “We stored all the food there.”
Annabelle slid into the passenger seat, and she buckled her seatbelt and shot him a sideways glance. “Thanks for doing this. Ryan was going to lend me the Jeep but it’s still in the shop.”
Matt wrinkled his brow. “He wrecked it?”
“Jeez, were you in an alcohol-induced coma for the past three days? He called you the day before yesterday to tell you about it. A dog ran right in front of his car and he had to swerve to avoid hitting it. He crashed into a tree, remember?”
Matt had a vague recollection of Ryan’s voice bitching in his ear about a dog or something. Fuck, how much had he drank in the last seventy-hours?
“He’s okay, though, right?”
She sighed. “He’s fine.”
Shoving his aviator sunglasses onto his nose, he focused on driving to Shelby’s bakery. The shower had helped clear his head, and the two beers’ worth of alcohol he’d consumed this morning were starting to leave his bloodstream. He felt alert now. And pissed off.
Yup, still pissed off at Savannah for being so damn stubborn and so damn scared.
But what could he do about it? No way was he going to beg. He was way too proud for that. Besides, what would it achieve? Savannah wanted to live in her heartache-free world of first kisses and whirlwind thrills, and who was he to force her into a relationship?
Best thing to do was move on.
Put her out of his mind, find a new, cute female to strike up a thing with and proceed to fuck the love he still felt for Savannah right out of his body.
Savannah examined her reflection in the mirror, wondering if the low-cut violet dress she’d chosen was too sexy for a first date. The silky material fell down to her knees, so it wasn’t too indecent, but her breasts practically poured out of the bodice. After a second, she shrugged and moved away from the mirror. Whatever. You could never go wrong with sexy.
Her arms ached in protest as she lifted them up to adjust the artfully messy twist of her hair. She was still sore from yesterday. She’d gotten up at six in the morning and spent seven hours getting the flowers ready for the wedding. She’d driven around town like a maniac, first to the Rose Room, the banquet hall where Jeannine and her husband-to-be Henry were holding their wedding reception. Along with bringing Chad, Savannah had hired a few temporary workers to help her set up all the tables, chairs and wall panels. She’d left half of the workers to finish up, then went with Chad and a couple of others to St. Augustine’s Chapel to get the aisle and altar ready for the actual ceremony. She’d left Chad in charge, headed back to the banquet hall, then back to the chapel, back to the hall, and so on, until she found herself ready to collapse by the time noon rolled around.
During one of her trips to the Rose Room, she’d had a moment to chat with Annabelle and her business partner, Holly, who mentioned Matt had just left. Apparently he’d given them a ride and stayed to help unload supplies. Savannah had just missed him, and she hadn’t been sure whether she was happy or sad about that.
His parting words had been buzzing through her head like angry wasps for three days now.
Hope you had fun.
He hadn’t sounded cruel when he said them. Just sad and resigned. She almost wished he’d been cruel. At least then she could feel better about the way things ended. If she hated him, then she wouldn’t have to miss him.
Unfortunately, she didn’t hate him.
And she totally missed him.
Good thing she had a solution for that.
The wedding had gone off without a hitch, the flowers were a success, and Prestige Events wanted to work with her again. To celebrate, Savannah was going on a date with Tony, the tall, dark-haired hottie who’d waltzed into her shop yesterday evening to buy flowers for his newly engaged cousin. The two of them had flirted for several minutes, until he finally gave her a sexy smile and asked if she wanted to have dinner with him the following evening. She’d said yes immediately.
Tony was just the kind of guy she liked spending time with. Gorgeous, easygoing, and not looking for a relationship. He’d told her he worked long hours at the law firm at which he was a junior partner, and didn’t have time for anything serious.
Exactly the way she liked it.
A flicker of guilt went through her as she left the apartment. She felt kind of sleazy, going out with someone else when the dust of her time with Matt had barely even settled. But so what. Tony would be a nice distraction. A way to put Matt out of her mind for good.
Downstairs, she stepped onto the sidewalk in front of her shop and found a sleek black BMW waiting at the curb. The passenger window rolled down and Tony’s cute grin greeted her. “Hop in.”
Despite herself, she was a tad irked that he hadn’t gotten out to open her door for her. Matt always did, even if they were just going for a quick cup of coffee. His southern gentleman manners, as he always said.
Don’t think about Matt, a sharp voice ordered.
She decided to heed the voice’s advice. She was going out with Tony. Tony, not Matt. So there was no reason to think about anyone other than Matt—shit, Tony, anyone other than Tony.
“Hey,” she said as she got into the car.
Tony’s dark eyes studied her appreciatively. “You look amazing.”
“Thanks.”
He moved the gearshift and added, “I made reservations at the Italian place around the corner. Is that cool with you?”
“It’s great.”
They didn’t say much more as he drove to the restaurant. Savannah normally excelled at first date chitchat. She had no problems asking questions or dropping a few flirtatious remarks, maybe even innocently brushing a guy’s arm to make that first contact.
But she didn’t do any of that tonight, and when they were finally seated at a secluded corner table with a red and white checkered tablecloth, she almost felt nervous.
“So,” Tony said, reaching for the menu, “how do you like being a florist?”
She fumbled for her own menu. “It’s great.”
“Cool. Did you always want to work with flowers?”
“Uh-huh. Flowers are…well, they’re great.”
She tried not to cringe. She’d uttered the word “great” like fifty times already and they were ten minutes into the damn date. Drawing in a breath, she pretended to study the menu, all the while gathering up confidence. Enough was enough. She was acting like a total loser here. She was in her element, for Pete’s sake. These first encounters, the exciting, flirty moments leading up to fun between the sheets—she lived off them, damn it.
Savannah picked up the water glass on the table and took a long swallow. “What about you?” she asked smoothly. “Have you always wanted to be a lawyer?”
With an enthusiastic nod, Tony began explaining how law was his biggest passion, only to be interrupted by the arrival of their waiter, a twenty-something-year-old guy with spiky brown hair and hazel eyes.
“Are you ready to order?” he inquired.
Savannah noticed the waiter had glued his gaze to her cleavage. She suddenly wished she’d brought a cardigan or something. The way this kid checked her out was almost criminal.
“No, we need a few more minutes,” Tony said.
The waiter turned to Savannah, but his eyes never reached her face. He just kept ogling her tits like a horny teenager. “Something to drink then?”
“A few more minutes,” she echoed.
With one last lingering look, the waiter walked off, while Savannah rolled her eyes and said, “I hope he doesn’t roofie my drink. I’m not in the mood to be sexually assaulted tonight.”
Tony gave her a blank look. “What? Why would he put drugs in your drink?”
She grew flustered. “He wouldn’t. He was just looking at my…I was making a…whatever.”
Her date was looking at her in such confusion she almost laughed out loud. But then Tony’s face brightened and he continued his recitation of all the reasons he’d chosen to become a lawyer.
Savannah tuned him out, still thinking about how he’d completely missed the sarcasm in her tone. Matt would have appreciated the sardonic remark. Like the day they’d been lying side by side on the bank floor, when he’d laughed at her whispered barbs. They’d joked back and forth that day as if they’d done it for years. She still couldn’t believe he liked—and got—her sense of humor.
Her mind drifted, the memory of his childhood anecdotes coming to the surface. She’d loved hearing those stories, mostly because it had been fun picturing big, tough Matt O’
Connor as a little kid fussed over by all the females in his family. She liked hearing his voice too. Deep and gruff, and so deliciously husky when he was turned on.
She smothered a groan. Why couldn’t she stop thinking about him already? They’d had a few fun weeks together, and she’d gotten out just in time. He’d told her he was falling in love with her! How could she stick around after that and risk another painful breakup? She’d been through too many of those. Like when Kevin dumped her after she burned yet another dinner. He’d gone on and on about how much he valued marriage and how he didn’t think she would make a good wife. Asshole. The words had stung back then, but eventually she’d accepted the truth to them. Men didn’t want to settle down with someone like her. She was too forward when it came to sex, too sarcastic, and not at all domestic, unless you counted her affinity for flowers.
Matt might be a bit of a commitment-phobe too, but she suspected he secretly did want the kind of loving relationship his sisters had. He would want a wife someday, and like an asshole once told her, she wasn’t wife material.
Or maybe it would have ended the way things did with Greg, her last serious boyfriend. The routine they’d fallen into had been so boring she’d wanted to tear her own hair out. So she’d broken up with Greg, hurting him deeply in the process. She didn’t want to hurt Matt, which would no doubt happen if the chemistry between them decided to fizzle out.
The sharp clearing of a male throat jerked her from her thoughts. She blinked, finding Tony watching her in concern. “Huh?” she said.
“I asked if you were ready to order. You’ve been staring at the menu for five minutes. And you ignored me the four times I asked you what you wanted.”
Five minutes? She’d spaced out for that long? And she hadn’t even noticed him talking to her. What was the matter with her?
A startling thought sliced into her consciousness.
She wasn’t having a good time.
Here she was, on a first date with a seriously cute guy who she’d normally be incredibly attracted to, but the thrill wasn’t there.
She didn’t want to feel Tony’s lips on hers for the first time. Didn’t want to undress him and find out what lay beneath his black trousers and navy-blue suit jacket.