Page 21 of Villainous Summer

She pulled my hand away. “Relax, have a drink. Nothing is happening to your career.”

“But you—him. You called him—” I let out a flustered sigh.

“I’m twenty-five years old, Van. Do you really think I’m going to run to him if I got my delicate feelings hurt? I’m not a child.”

Delicate and Summer were the unlikeliest of descriptions. In the short time knowing her, I’d describe her as tempestuous, sharp, and confident. But delicate?

She took my silence as agreement.

“Trust me, I know how to handle myself. And I’m not involving emotions with a guy like you. Now, cherry or apple?”

Grabbing the green can, I popped the top and took a big swig.

A smirk playing on her face, she mirrored me. “Better?”

“Why wouldn’t you get emotional over me?” I asked.

I wasn’t even sure why the statement bothered me, but it did.

Scoffing, she shook her head. “Because none of this is real. When someone tells you who they are, believe them. You don’t want commitment. I won’t be committed. Easy as that.”

“You don’t think I’d be worth committing to?”

What was I doing? Why was I arguing for the exact thing I told her I didn’t want? Between work and my family obligations, the last thing I needed was a distraction in the form of a pretty woman. One with soft hair that fell over her smooth shoulders. One with blue eyes so light they looked like the edge of the sky on a perfect day. One with full pink lips begging to be crushed in a kiss—or wrapped around something.

Summer tilted her head and surveyed me. “You know, they say skin is the largest organ in the body, but I’m pretty sure your ego is giving it a run for its money. No, Van, I don’t think I’ll have any issues not going moon eyed over you.”

The rejection stung. I couldn’t remember the last time I had tried to flirt with a woman and not have it work.

My words seemed to fuel her decision—she wasn’t attracted to me.

“Good. I’m glad you understand.”

The words sounded hollow, but my worries didn’t seem to concern her as she pulled out her phone, angling the camera until the lighting was right.

“Stand on the left side of me so we can get that cool sunbeam vibe for our couple photos.”

I leaned in without touching her. The scent of clean floral clung to her. Her head swiveled as she tried to frame the photo.

“Scoot closer.”

Still trying not to touch her, I moved in.

The scent intensified.

In the camera’s reflection, she frowned. “No, closer. If I were your girlfriend, how would you stand?”

“If you were my girlfriend, I’d be all over you.”

As her eyes flashed over to me, pink tinged her cheeks. Her gaze roamed over my body.

“Is that so? With those big muscular arms?”

“Holding you would be so easy.” I smirked at her.

She gulped. “Then, do it. Do it like you want me.”

Her words were a challenge and all the permission I needed.

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