Page 26 of Best Served Cold

Rob makes a sound in his throat that sounds suspiciously like stifled laughter.

It would seem impolite to ask Dottie and Hannah to make themselves scarce, especially since it’s my house, so I lead Rob up the stairs and into my bedroom.

When I close the door behind him, he looks even more baffled than when he first saw me in my wedding dress.

“Oh my God,” I blurt. “This isn’t…I’m not trying to, like, seduce you by bringing you in here. I just wanted to beg you to please leave.”

He laughs, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and I feel something completely unexpected—a fluttering sensation in my belly. My exposed skin tingles with heightened sensitivity, as if the temperature in the room just changed.

I’m attracted to Jonah’s brother.

Jonah’sbrother.

Oh, this is bad.

“You’ve taken this truth-telling thing to another level,” he says, rubbing his impeccably stubbled jaw.

I gulp, completely unmoored by my sudden awareness of him.

“Sorry,” I manage.

He raises his eyebrows, his mouth twitching with amusement.

“Fine. I’m not sorry. But I can’t possibly do this if you’re here. You’ve got to understand that.”

Something unexpected flickers in his eyes—hurt, maybe—and he shoves his hands into his pockets. “Sure. Yeah. I get it. I know we never got along before. I guess I figured something had changed. But?—”

I grab his arm before he can leave, and then drop it, because it’s thick and firm, which is embarrassing for reasons I can’t express. “Itdidchange. But this is unbelievably embarrassing, and I’m only going through with it because I promised them. I convinced Dottie not to bring her partner, but Otis lives here, so I couldn’t very well kick him out. Look, I know you must think this is further proof of me being some Pollyanna who tries to please everyone, and?—”

“I don’t think that,” he says, touching my arm.

He probably didn’t mean to, but his warm touch sends a jolt of awareness through me.

We’re in here alone, behind a closed door, and it suddenly feels improper.

His fingers glance off my skin, and I’m watching his face now, riveted. His eyes gleam in the dim light of the room, his hair overgrown enough that it’s brushing his eyebrows. “I don’t think that,” he repeats. “It’s cool that you’ve been hanging out with Hannah and Briar. Not every woman would. You’ve taken something positive from a fucked-up situation. I actually admire that.”

“Oh, lucky me,” I scoff, “I’ve earned Rob Price’s approval.”

I’m not sure why I’m baiting him. He’s being kind. It’s just…I’ve drifted into territory I don’t understand in a boat made of cardboard, and I don’t have a paddle. Besides, he brings something out in me, a side I buried years ago without any last rites.

His mouth tips up at the corners. “Yes, you have.” He gestures to the framed ABBA poster in the corner, close to my reading chair. “And also my curiosity. I need to know why you have a framed poster of ABBA.”

“There’s nothing wrong with ABBA.” I’m pretty sure he’s teasing me. I’m guessing Rob’s not an ABBA fan. The songs on his CD were all angsty, and one of them was a Garbage Fire original. I’ll admit that I looked up a few others.

Okay, all the ones available on Spotify.

They’re good, maybe even great, but their songs aren’t exactly bangers. Otis calls them rage anthems. That’s usually not my thing, but ABBA doesn’t do as much for you when you’re filled with righteous fury. I’ve found myself listening to a few of Rob’s songs on repeat, not that I’deveradmit it. His voice is deep and gravelly, and when I play the music loudly, I can feel it thrumming through me like a second pulse.

I look away from him, feeling my cheeks heat. It doesn’t help that I’m in this dress, a gift wrapped for a man who’ll never open it. A man I absolutely and emphatically no longer want.

“No, but having a framed poster of them suggests a level of fandom I find interesting. There are several things about you I find interesting, Sophie. Including your perfect aim at engagement ring beer pong. So, yes, I’d like an invitation to your wedding, if you wouldn’t mind terribly much.” His almost-there smile slips, replaced by a serious expression. “But that’s not why I came over here. I wanted to warn you that Jonah is planning something. A grand gesture at the brewery.”

I groan. “Seriously?”

“Has he been texting you?” he asks, sounding pissed.

“Yeah, until I blocked him,” I say, my jaw tensing as I remember his wheedling messages. He’d thrown Hannah and Briar under the bus, calling them liars. Saying he’d never slept with anyone else, only flirted, because he’d gotten cold feet, which his buddies assured him was super normal.

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