Page 72 of Villainous Summer

For the past decade, I had slept alone. Sure, there was the odd one-night stand who overstayed her welcome and a few friends-with-benefits situations that ended terribly, as they almost always do. But I was used to my space while sleeping, the full reign of my bed, and complete control of the blankets.

But the moment I woke, I knew she was missing. You would have thought waking up beside someone would feel wrong, but it was waking alone that left me bereft.

A quick glance around the room showed me she took her dress but left her underwear. Whether that was for me to find or if she couldn’t find them while she absconded, I couldn’t say.

She had only been in my life for the season. I had lived thirty-two years without her, but I missed her.

I brought the pillow she was on to my face and breathed it in. Breathing in the faint scent of roses and sunshine that was so innately her.

I dropped the pillow. What was I doing sniffing pillows? What kind of man was she making me? We had sex one time. One. And she was ripping down all my wards.

I didn’t fuck for keeps until she came around. And I sure as hell never fucked without a condom.

While I meant what I said to her the night before, nothing about us felt fake anymore.

I tried reaching out, but my messages were returned with short answers. She wasn’t avoiding me completely but also wasn’t engaging. Minutes ticked by and then hours, and I was getting little more than a one-word response.

So, this is what it feels like to have a woman ignore you.

It was an unfamiliar sensation. Ordinarily, if a woman showed no interest in me, I would accept that as it was. No need to play games when plenty of other women were out there.

But that was before Summer. Before our night together. She had me pillow-sniffing, sappy poem-appreciating. Sucker.

And to top it off, Summer wasn’t playing hard to pique my interest. She wasn’t the sort. That night at the party, she was forthright—bold, even. There were no games to be played. Somehow, her genuine disinterest only made my thoughts of her more rabid.

Running my hand down my face, I got up, grateful that I had to work. Maybe the distraction would be good for me.

At the stoplight, the song changed. A familiar tune. Summer and Savvy were singing along to it at one point during the trivia night. The song was one I had probably heard a hundred times before, but all I could think about was the way her hair brushed her shoulder as she leaned forward to write an answer, her smile curving up a little more on the right side. The way her two bottom front teeth were slightly crooked. How her hand fit into mine and the way her body felt beneath me.

I was well and truly fucked over this woman.

A horn blared behind me, and I startled, glancing up to see that I had missed the green light. The guy behind me flipped me off, but I ignored him.

To my right was Garden of Eden Nursery.

I still had thirty minutes before I was expected at work.

My mom had mentioned her geranium died. Realizing she could use a replacement, I decided to take a quick peek at what they had to get my mind back to what mattered.

Only it wasn’t my mom I was thinking about fifteen minutes later as I hefted a large potted bush up to the register. Really, how could I have refused when I passed the pink blooms, with their rich scent? Perfect buds matched the same shade as Summer’s cheeks as she came the night before. Ignoring the hefty price tag, I bought it along with my mom’s plant before I could decide if it was a bad idea.

My morning went slowly, planning meetings, checking on the progress of projects, and having to fix a new employee’s mistake. By lunch, I had told myself that my obsessive thoughts all morning were nothing more than a postcoital hangover.

Not that I never had that before.

But then I glanced at the fun-fact calendar, which read, A snail can sleep for three years.

I desperately needed to see her.

The hotel was only a ten-minute drive from work. I could pop over and say hi, couldn’t I?

She had told me she would get so wrapped up in work that, sometimes, she’d forget to eat until five p.m. and would become ravenous.

I couldn’t have that.

Ignoring the little voice in my head telling me it was crossing a line to see her at work, I made my way downtown. Parking, as always, was a pain, with the bright summer sunshine bringing out all the tourists to the historic waterfront.

As I got out of the car, I glanced back at the rosebush in the back of my truck. Women like flowers, don’t they? I snapped a bud off the bush and tucked the stem into my pocket.

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