Page 22 of Bloom

I roll my eyes at her dramatics. “Of course he didn’t.”

Lux’s expression softens. “Did you?”

“No.” I pause. Sigh at the ground. Mumble, “Wanted to.”

“Look at you,” Lux coos, patting my shoulder. “Yelling at men. I’m so proud.”

I shrug her off, even as a tiny voice in my head echoes the sentiment.

At her demand, I provide the Cliff Notes version of the conversation, getting a thoughtful hum in response. “So you just guilted him into submission?”

The prospect of that makes my stomach turn; the only thing worse than someone disliking me for no reason is someone feeling forced to like me. “Apparently.”

That damn little smirk makes a reappearance. “Were you topless?”

I just barely resist the urge to chuck my lukewarm, milky, sorry excuse of a coffee at her, and only because I don’t think Alex would appreciate the shower. “I hate you.”

As the resident sober person on the ranch, I shoulder the brunt of the cleaning-up burden. I don’t mind; the store is closedtoday, if I hiked I’d probably collapse from exhaustion, and sitting around my empty apartment would bore me to tears. So, whilealmosteveryone else recovers, I willingly pick through the enormous mess we made last night, making a point to keep my gaze away from the stables, and the ranch hand lurking around it.

Confuseddoesn’t begin to cover how I feel. I feel like there’s a joke being played, a punchline just around the corner, like Hunter’s going to turn around at any minute, all'ha ha, you thought I wanted to be your friend? Loser.'

But, in a twisted turn of events, the more I try not to look at Hunter, the more my eyes drift in his direction. And I don’t know if his drift in mine, or if he simply feels my beady, anxious stare, but sometimes, we lock gazes. Stay that way for a split second before I inevitably tear mine away and pretend to be completely fascinated by a crushed plastic cup.

When it happens for a fourth time, I huff and turn my back, a physical restraint against seeking him out. Scooping a discarded beer bottle off the ground—and warding off a serious case of déjà vu—I silently chastise myself for getting all in my head about nothing. We had one short conversation and he made me coffee. Big whoop. Nothing to get so freaking flustered about.

Careful, Caroline. Your attention deprivation is showing.

Even though my needy brain tries valiantly to convince me someone’s watching me, that Imustglance over my shoulder to confirm, I keep my gaze on the ground. Only when an outburst of noise comes from the house do I look up just in time to watch a group of people, all looking decidedly worse for wear, stumble outside.

Moaning and groaning, Nova blindly shuffles my way, a hand lifted to shield her face from the bright sun. “What the hell did I drink last night?”

“Everything.” I suck my bottom lip into my mouth to keep from laughing. “I didn’t know you were still here.”

Abandoning her pitiful display for a brief moment, Nova cracks open an eye, one corner of her mouth lifting mischievously. “I slept in Grace’s bed.”

Of course, she did. “What happened to not getting involved with the Jacksons?”

“It was a momentary lapse in judgment.” Nova flicks a hand through the air dismissively as she plops herself on the ground by my feet. Slumping against my legs, she slides a miserable expression into place again. “Can you drive me home?”

I give the chin-length black hair tied up in a ponytail a gentle tug. “Course I will.”

Long lashes flutter as she blinks pleadingly. “Can we stop somewhere for food?”

“The greasiest burger we can find,” I promise. “Just give me ten minutes.”

Nova sighs contentedly as she flops onto her back, looking poised to take a nap right there on the grass while she waits for me to finish up. “I love you very much.”

I snort, nudging her limp form with my foot before going back to cleaning up. But it’s not long before another interruption comes sauntering over in the form of Cass Morgan, wearing a grin that honestly makes me a little dizzy becausecome on—the guy is gorgeous. “Need any help?”

I don’t even get the chance to shake my head.

“That was a rhetorical question, Caroline.” Cass holds a hand out, that smile cranking up to megawatt, and a comparison between him and the sun briefly comes to mind. “Hand it over.”

A small, bemused laugh escapes me as I obey, passing him the trash bag. “Knock yourself out.”

It should be easier with two people cleaning up rather than one, but the new presence is distracting. Theflirtingisdistracting, and confusing, and kind of nice, honestly, because how often do I get flirted with? Never, that’s how often. And even though it’s just for fun, just a facet of his personality, it’s still nice. I still simper, just a little.

I’m only human, after all.

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