As infuriating as it was to have him boss me around, there was a minuscule, barely-there rush of excitement in being cared for like that.
But that emotion was best kept under wraps.
After the Cory debacle, I would never get ahead of myself again.
A kind gesture was not loyalty. Flowers were not love. Hour-long Skype calls were not commitment. Oil changes could’ve meant a lot of things, but I wouldn’t believe it was anything but a misplaced sense of chivalry.
Admittedly, my little sedan had been running better since his gesture, not that I’d admit that to Van.
The ebbing tide darkened the silt and barnacle rock shore of Freedom Bay. A whiff of seaweed and salt hung in the stagnant air.
I had nice eyes and a great ass. When I put in some effort, I could look pretty. We definitely had moments where I could tell he was, at least on a surface level, attracted to me. So, what was his damage tonight?
With only a few steps onto the boardwalk, I couldn’t hold in my curiosity.
So, I tested him. I couldn’t stop grinning as he stared at me.
Out of the corner of my eye, one of his coworkers sat on a bench at the park, a white ring of skunky, pungent weed smoke wisping around her head.
More than willing to use her being near us as an excuse to test him, I waved to her, and she waved back.
Looking annoyed with me, Van stepped closer to me, his T-shirt brushing my bare stomach. “What games are you playing with me?”
Raising my chin, I narrowed my eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Who’s Cory? I saw the messages on your phone. Are you seeing someone else?”
Damn. I had been so distracted by the douchebag at the bar I hadn’t thought to check my catfish account for news from Cory. My left foot somehow collided with my right and stumbled at the question.
Van snagged my arm to hold me upright.
His touch seared my bare skin, and I fought the urge to step on my tiptoes and pull his face down for a kiss.
“Huh?”
His thumb traced up my arm, pushing the strap of my dress back up on my shoulder, identical to the night of the party, when I almost flashed the street in my drunken stupor.
Shame flooded my cheeks, and I shook off his clutch and put on my innocent face. “Who?”
“Cory. When you were putting the fear of God in that asshole at the bar, some guy was blowing up your phone. All the same accounts. Cory something.”
My shrug was a little overdramatic, but I couldn’t compensate for it.
“I’m not sure.”
“The same account was all over you for several minutes.”
I snorted, trying to take my phone, before he put a hand on my wrist.
“We had a deal. Nobody else. No fuck-boy summer. You’re supposed to be mine. You need to act like it.”
Crossing my arms, I glower at him.
Yeah, I had said that, but for him to act so mercurial in the bar to be jealous was laughable.
“But I’m not yours. This, us”—I motioned between our bodies—“is not real.”
Challenge flickered in his eyes.