Besotted by Rebecca Sharp

Miles

That damn mouth.

Growling, I tore my eyes away from Eve as she took the order of some guy who was wall-papered with a fancy suit and purple fucking shirt. He looked slick. Like oil. Too thick and too toxic for someone so pure as Eve to even be close to him. He’d been flirting with her for the past twenty minutes, and I was seconds away from my clenched fist ending up in his face.

I stood at the end of the bar with Dex and Ace who were chatting with some postgrad students up from Pepperdine University, researching human trafficking along the coast. They were pretty. Smart. Transient. They were everything I’d normally hope to find here on a Saturday night, except nothing was fucking normal anymore.

I was afraid this would happen. I should’ve known this would happen.

One kiss at the wedding had put me off my game for weeks, but now that I’d tasted her, now that I’d felt her come all over my tongue and heard the way that damn mouth cried out my name when she came… I was afraid it had ruined me for good.

I looked back to the studious blonde, Natalie, who’d been eyeing me since they’d taken seats next to us and felt nothing. Not a single. Fucking. Thing.

I was afraid it had ruined me.

I used to think the problem was that Eve was only interested in forever. Now, I knew the problem was me—that one night wouldn’t put her out of my system, that I was the one who’d want more. And that was the first step on a path that would end with me back right here.

Right back to bitter and broken.

I tossed back the rest of my drink, catching Benny’s eye and raising my glass to request another.

“So, you’re a carpenter?” Natalie asked, sliding up to me and studiously examining my face like she was going to write a paper on it.

I wanted to tell her that there wasn’t much to see. In fact, I could be summed up in three words: Never. Forever. Eve.

“Yeah,” I nodded. “My brother and I own our own construction company, so we do a lot of work, mostly residential, in the area.”

“That’s awesome.” She had a nice smile. Her lips weren’t as full as Eve’s though and I wondered if she had Botox or some shit like that done because her eyes didn’t budge no matter her expression.

Eve’s smile lifted her whole face. Just like it did now, as she bestowed it on the purple Easter egg who was still sitting at the bar. Her eyes met mine for a brief second, noticed the woman next to me, and that smile, along with her eyes, fell.

Fuck.

“I’d love to chat with you privately… maybe somewhere a little quieter… later about it,” she said casually, stirring her straw in her cocktail. “For my research, of course. Traffickers in this area seem to be using the ocean-front mansions to easily transport the girls, since they’re so spread apart and no one seems to question the comings and goings of private yachts. Maybe you could give me a lay of the land.”

Christ. I was being seduced by Nancy-fucking-Drew.

“We could even go back to my hotel room if you wanted…”

I almost groaned out loud, but the vibration of my phone in my pocket saved me. A Texas number showed up, catching my attention, but since I didn’t recognize it, I clicked and sent it to voicemail.

“Spam call,” I apologized gruffly, hoping we could change the topic now.

Un-fucking-fortunately for me, this should’ve-been-tempting Nancy Drew could’ve stripped bare and held a magnifying glass over her pussy, and I still wouldn’t have been interested in any clues she was trying to leave for me that she was attracted and willing.

Anger surged through me. Looked like the Pub was going to be off-limits for a few weeks until I could get this shit under control.

I thought it was.

I really fucking did.

All week, it had been like nothing between us had happened, like we hadn’t seen each other naked, and like I hadn’t gorged myself on her while the ocean spurred me on.

Natalie drained her drink and gave me a coy smile. “So, about that quiet place…”

My phone buzzed again. Same number. Maybe an old contact? An old friend? Or maybe something bad had happened in general… Spam callers didn’t usually try twice in a row.

Regardless, dealing with the caller was sadly preferable to trying to let Nancy Drew down gently.

“Sorry, I have to answer this, I think it’s for work,” I excused myself, taking my drink and weaving through the crowd outside.

“Hello?” I answered the call as soon as I stepped outside, taking the last swig of my straight shot of vodka.

“Oh my, Miles. How I’ve missed your voice.” I stopped on the sidewalk, the glass slipping from my fingers and shattering on the ground.

The jarring sound quickly garnered my attention, but the shattering glass was as soft as rain compared to the familiar and sultry Texan twang that slithered through the line.

Like one more bomb exploding into my life.

Two years wasn’t enough time to erase the voice that accompanied the previous twenty-four. Nothing would ever be enough for that.

“Amanda.” I hated how my voice broke over her name, like I was still pining for her. Like I still cared about her. “What the hell do you want?”

And she didn’t even deserve that. I should’ve just hung up. I wanted to. But Amanda always got what she wanted. Whether that was me. Or me and some guys in her class. Or me and her professor. Or me and her fancy politician boss. So, rather than deal with whatever her plan B was, I stayed on the line, even as her voice scratched at my heart like nails on a chalkboard.

“Miles, I miss you.” She sighed, and I knew she was drunk and pouting.

She’d probably had at least one bottle of white wine, her favorite to drink on Saturdays, and had the TV on silent in the background. I knew because I knew her. I knew all the little fucking things—the things that convinced me we were meant to be together. And in all the little things, I’d missed the big thing; I’d missed how she was a fucking narcissistic cheater and egotistical liar.

“What do you want, Amanda?” I repeated, tightly.

I knew what she wanted. She’d tried this act several times before we’d left Texas and a few times since. Different numbers, calling me and begging my forgiveness, begging me to come back.

“I’ve made a huge mistake,” she answered with a throaty voice. “I made a huge mistake. Several of them. And I can’t—” Her words cut off, and I heard her stifle a sob.

The truth was, she was a good liar, but she was even better at making herself appear the damsel in need of saving.

“I-I’m so sorry, Miles. I just missed you so much, and I just had to tell you that and and that I will always lov—”

“Stop!” I roared, slamming my fist on the side of the building.

These were words I’d heard a thousand times. And each time, she got better at saying them, better at making them sound so perfectly believable.

My breath locked in my lungs, prisoner to the emotions that I knew came next—the romanticized ones that wanted to believe the girl I’d smiled at in first grade was my soul mate.

A second went by. And then another.

“Miles?”

My eyes flicked open and the air rushed from my lungs like a revolution inside me had set it free. She was a fucking liar.

“We’re done.”

“Oh, honey, you know you’ll never be done with me,” she cooed, lacking any trace of the sadness that infected her tone a moment ago.

“Call me again, Amanda, and I’ll press charges. Goodbye.” I hung up the phone and blocked the number.

For too many years, she’d woven a web of lies around me with her silken words. And I’d been the foolish fly, secure in her trap—the trap I’d given her the blueprints to lay. Yeah, it was good to tell her to stay the hell away. It was good to block her new number. After what she did, I had no desire—no love left for her.

It should’ve felt fucking good but it didn’t.

It didn’t because it reminded me perfectly of the self-loathing that followed her betrayal. It reminded me that I hadn’t been good enough. It reminded me that I’d been so besotted with the idea of forever that I’d been blinded to the truth. And it reminded me why I was a danger to myself, and why it was a danger to get too close to Eve.

A long groan ripped from the shredded remains of my soul.

I yanked open the door to the bar. I needed to go home, but I also needed to tell Benny about the broken glass and make my excuses to Ace and Dex.

I made it three steps inside before I caught the youngest Covington’s stare and realized he must already know about the glass.

“Miles, what the hell is going—” If he even spoke the last of those words, I didn’t hear them. My reality was obliterated into a single focus—Eve reaching over the bar to hand the purple peacock another fucking drink—the last three making him brave enough to think it was okay to touch her—to grab around her fingers and not let go when it was clear she was trying to pull away.

A second later, the asshat’s face was flat against the bar and my hand was around the back of his neck. Fuck him. Fuck him for touching her.

My woman.

“Guess that fancy suit can’t hide shit manners,” I growled into his ear, ignoring the commotion I knew was headed my way.

“Take your hands—” I pushed harder to end his statement in a strained grunt.

“You don’t grab a woman’s hand when she doesn’t want you to. And you sure as fuck don’t grab it and not let it go when she tries to take it back,” I said calmly and then, with a pleasing thud of his cheek hitting the wood, added, “Don’t touch her again.”

“Miles!” I looked up from the disgusting piece of shit on the bar just in time to catch Eve’s shocked stare before Dex and Ace pulled me off the man and Benny stepped in my face.

“Are you kidding me right now? I thought… I thought this was done. Just because you’re my friend doesn’t mean you can disrespect me and my business like this. Get him out of here.”

I breathed heavy, strands of hair falling from where it was tied into my face like jail bars in my vision as Ace yanked me roughly toward the door.

Shit.

I knew I’d fucked up before we made it past the bar. Don’t get me wrong, that sleazy fucker hitting on Eve deserved every ounce of pain and more than the warning I’d given him, but my friend hadn’t.

“Wait!”

I halted at the door, Ace freezing in step behind me. We both turned to see Eve walking toward us, her jacket and her bag over her shoulder.

“I’ll take him home, Ace,” she said firmly, coming right up to the man who was easily twice her size and insisting to be my escort like she was ready to take him down if he said no.

“Eve, I don’t think he’s—”

I tensed as her hand touched the back of my shoulder.

“He’s fine, and I’ll be fine. Thank you.” There was a second of silence where I could hear the drumroll of their stare-down. “But you should keep an eye on that guy. I have a bad feeling about him.”

That was my girl.