Page 73 of Love to Hate You

“Yes, love.”

Oh, how she loved it when he called her that in that husky whisper of his. It jump-started all her spark plugs to life.

“About your offer—”

“Summer?” someone said from behind. A male blast from her embarrassing past. “Summer Russo?”

“Bryan?” she croaked, because who in the hell would want to run into their worst failed meet-cute ever, especially when wearing an orange parking cone, a smear of ice cream on her right boob, and smudged mascara from when she’d barfed on Wes’s shoes.

“It is you!” He yanked her out of Wes’s safe hands and into a giant hug. Her arms hung at her side as Bryan swung her back and forth. Unlike her, Wes was in hisWINNING WITH HERshirt, pressed navy shorts, and not a smear of anything on his right boob. He was dressed like a Tommy Hilfiger ad, minus the tee.

Behind Bryan was another familiar face with flawless makeup, a sparkling diamond on her hand, and a little baby bump advertising that they had reached family-status. A status Summer desperately wanted to reach.

The second Bryan released her, his plus-one moved in for a hug. Summer shifted sideways so they ended up in one of those awkward side-embraces.

“Bryan, this is my uh...”

“Fiancé, Wes.” All eyes fell to Summer’s bare finger. “It’s being remade. The diamond wasn’t big enough. Only eight carats will do for my girl.”

Summer nearly burst out laughing at the look on the other woman’s face at the mention of the diamond’s size.

“Nice to meet you.” Bryan stuck out his hand to Wes, who shook it. “This is my wife, Candy. And this lady right here”—he playfully punched Summer in the shoulder like she was one of the guys—“is responsible for all of this.” He put his arm around his wife and smiled. “If it hadn’t been for Summer, Candy and I never would have met.”

Wes must have sensed her discomfort, because he threw his arm around her shoulders and slid his hand into her back pocket, effectively cupping her butt. She tried to move but he tightened his grip. “You introduced them, love?”

“Kind of,” Summer said, and suddenly she felt like that awkward teen all over again. She didn’t want to tell him the truth because she didn’t want him to know just how romantically cursed she was. And how pathetic her dating life up until this moment had been. Between humping dogs ripping her skirt, elbowing plumbers in the pipes, and a mime performance for a proposal, she’d had her fair share of meet-uglies. She was romantically challenged in the worst way.

Wes pulled her closer, against his chest. Whereas Bryan had a dad bod with a soft muffin top and a receding hairline, Wes was all muscle and sinew with a head of hair that was so thick and luscious that her fingers itched to tangle themselves in it.

“Define ‘kind of,’” he said to her, but she knew he was glaring down at Bryan.

“On Fridays they bring in a local band and there’s dancing. Bryan and I came here on a date and we walked onto the floor together and he left with someone else.”

“That would be me,” Candy said, wiggling her fingers.

“It was a date? I don’t remember that,” Bryan said, looking genuinely confused.

Summer’s cheeks burned with humiliation. Had he really not considered that a date? He’d picked her up, had his arm slung around her the entire night, paid for their dinner. He’d even called her “babe.” Plus, his best friend had been on the double date with Autumn.

She closed her eyes. Everything made sense.

Then she felt her hand enveloped by Wes’s. His arms coming around her. “That’s right, love. You told me about Bryan. Wasn’t he the worst meet-cute of your life?”

“Well, there was this one guy who tried to have my car towed, but this is a close second.”

Bryan’s voice rose. “I wouldn’t go as far as second-worst.”

Wes puffed out his chest, reminding Bryan of their size difference, then stared him down.

“You didn’t even know we were on a date,” said Summer.

Bryan took a step back. “I’m sorry if I misled you. Your sister and Kent were going out that night and Autumn didn’t want you stuck at home reading one of those romance books you loved. I mean, you were like one of the guys.”

And how embarrassing was that? She’d been friend-zoned even before he’d asked her out. Once again she was the gatekeeper to her more popular, aspiring influencer of a sister.

Wes picked up on her disappointment and frustration. “Things clearly work out how they’re supposed to.” He kissed her fingers and then added, “We’d better get going, love. We have a reservation at the Wharf House to make.”

They said their goodbyes, and as they walked off Wes still had his hand cupping her ass.

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