Page 21 of The Best Wrong Move

“Wanna join me?” I ask, half-sarcastically, and half meaning it.

“Not a chance,” he shoots back, not skipping a beat.

Ouch.

When I don’t say anything else, he adds, “You should have fun while you’re here. Not sit in the dark pining after some guy like that. The best revenge is living well, right? You deserve better. Which is why you should come to Cliff’s with me tonight.”

“I should probably stay a good distance away from any cliffs for the time being, thank you.”

“Cliff’s is abar.” He laughs, then leans across the floor and pats my knee with his free hand again. The same jolt of energy rushes through me — I wish he’d just leave it there. “It’s just up the road. Some of my friends like to go after the surf lets up. Right around sunset.”

“Oh.” I picture a tiki hut full of shirtless surfers, their boards all piled high by the door. It could be a good research spot for my script, and a balm for my wounded heart. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?” he repeats in disbelief. He picks up a long box and points it at me, then jabs me on the arm with it. “I’m making a command decision. You’re coming. No way I’m leaving you here alone to spy on your ex in the dark.”

“It’s not just that,” I admit. “I don’t want to be recognized.” He frowns. “People have been pretty harsh since that clip went viral. Most guys that recognize me in public take it as an opportunity to either hit on me, or insult me. It’s made me into a bit of a hermit.”

His eyes darken, and his smile disappears. “You’ll have me with you.”

I let out a soft, nervous chuckle, but he doesn’t join in. He studies me more intensely.

“Trust me, no one is going to hassle you. Not while I’m there. You’ll have my friends there with you too. They’ll bring their wives. It’ll be fun, I promise.”

I squeeze my eyes shut. His words mean more to me than he knows. I’ve been facing this whole mess alone for the last four weeks. I’d have given anything to have Rex or someone else by my side to stop every asshole who took my presence as a cue to say their most jarring one-liners to me.

He frowns. “Unless . . . you want him back?”

“Do I want Rex back?” I repeat, considering the question. Imagining us returning to New York together, like none of this ever happened. It should feel right, considering I proposed to him a month ago. But for some reason it doesn’t. Not anymore. “I don’t think so. No.”

“Do you at least want to make him sorry that he left?”

I laugh. “Of course. Who wouldn’t want that?”

“And what’s the fastest way to do that?”

“Move into the townhouse next door to him for eight weeks?” I laugh sadly at my own ironic joke.

“That part is inevitable at this point, but he’s not going to think twice about you if you’re sitting here like a bump on a log while he’s making out with Juju right outside your door. Why would he?”

I roll my eyes at him. “I don’t have any plans to sit like a bump on a log. Just spy on him a little.”

His eyes roam over mine.

“Guys want what they can’t have,” he goes on. “Every one of us loves a good chase. But, more importantly, we always,alwayswant one thing.”

If byone thinghe means . . .

“Oh my God, I’mnotsleeping with Rex just to get him back.” I chuck a throw pillow at him, but he catches it with one hand and tosses it aside. I find it oddly attractive. Still, I’m about done with this conversation, if this is the only wisdom Dom is serving up.

“I’m not talking about sex.”

Something stirs in me, just watching the wordsexcome out of his mouth.

“Then what else does every guy want?”

His eyes start dancing, as if suddenly lit on fire.

“To win,” he tells me. “We all want towin.”

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