Page 68 of Collateral Damage
I chuckle, wondering if I’m a complete asshole for agreeing. “I would never shame you or any woman. Are you sure this is what you want?”
She tilts her head, eyes sparkling. “We’ve been friendly for years, Cooper, but we’ve never gotten to know each other.” She bites her lip, and what memories I have of last night rage through my body. “I think it’s time you and I get to be really good friends.”
I climb into her bed and kiss her. It’s not until a good half hour later I’m leaving her bedroom for real, a cocky grin plastered on my face.
I feel a million times better than I did last night.
Perry was right.
I hurry onto the street, heading toward the closest main road to call a car with my app. We don’t use a driver when we’re on Nantucket, and I didn’t drive last night, knowing my plans to get plastered.
I’m a few blocks away from Bree’s place when a streak of familiar red hair catches my eye. I stop, heart slamming and anxiety rippling.
Turning to take in an empty lot is none other than Sybil Laurence. She’s wearing a yellow hard hat and directing the crew around like a boss.
“What the fuck?” I mutter.
This is not wishful thinking. It’s really her.
My Valentine.
I stand frozen, staring at her as she talks to the crew, knowing I should turn and walk away, but I can’t.
Suddenly, all I want in the whole fucking world is to talk to her. It’s an itch I can’t scratch, and it kills me. I ball my hands into fists to keep myself from pulling her into a hug. My teeth dig into my tongue to keep from yelling out her name.
As much as I want to see her, to talk to her, I also want to scream at her for doing what she did.
A brawny man with at least ten years on us struts over to Sybil, his thumbs hitched into the pockets of his jeans. He sports a hard hat and a plaid shirt, a total walking cliché, but I bet women love his blue-collar look. The two begin talking, heads tilted toward one another, and a streak of jealousy darts through me.
Her family must be building their Nantucket house.
It shouldn’t surprise me, but it does. To see it happening despite all the bad blood makes my chest ache. Everything I’d numbed last night crashes into me all at once—pain, anger, sadness, hope, longing…
Do I want Sybil on Nantucket? Yes.
Can I have Sybil on Nantucket? Absolutely not.
Nantucket isn’t that big, not even with their house being on the other side of the island from ours. There’s no way this ends well.
Sybil laughs, her chin lifting high with her neck exposed as she releases the carefree sound. I used to take that laugh for granted, and now another man is making her happy.
Fuck. I’m still not over her.
How fucked up is that, considering we were never even together? This is unrequited love, and it’s bullshit I need to work through.
Like an idiot, I stride across the dirt lot, weaving through construction workers, standing a foot away from Sybil, her back turned to me. My eyes roam her body, taking in her black tank top against her pale skin and the sexy curve of her ass in her jeans. She turns to me with her adorable smile lighting her face and then goes still. Her smile drops, and so does my heart.
“Cooper.”
There are so many ways I could play this.
I pick the worst one.
I smirk, trying to appear unaffected. “Don’t look so surprised to see me on Nantucket.” I inch closer and nod to the construction site. Her sweet yet somehow spicy citrus scent is so familiar I nearly sink to my knees. “Is this what I think it is?”
Her green eyes flash with a million unsaid things. God, I want to hear them all.
She turns to plaid-shirt guy. “Rake, if you’ll excuse me. Cooper is an old friend, and we need to catch up.”
