“I’m Corma—”
“I know who you are.” Nate’s voice is arctic cold. Colder than I’ve ever heard it. “And I don’t know what game you’re playing here, O’Dair, but it ends now.”
Cormack actually laughs — laughs! — like he isn’t standing two feet from the most intimidating human on planet earth. There’s a strange gleam in my date’s blue-green eyes that wasn’t there earlier, and a smug smile playing out on those killer Irish lips.
I’m instantly set on edge.
Something’s happening here. And, as much as I’d like to think the tension between them is because they’re both madly in love with me — HA! — I’m pretty sure that’s not the case. They clearly have a history.
Judging by the frost crystalizing the air between them, I’m guessing it’s not a happy one.
At least a decade passes as the men face off, neither breaking the heavy silence. The tension builds until I can barely breathe around it.
“Maybe—” I start, but my words are immediately cut off.
“West, go inside.” Nate never looks away from Cormack. “I’m going to have a chat with your…” He pauses intentionally, a hard smile curling at his mouth. “…friend.”
“What?” I snap. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“It’s fine, Phoebe,” Cormack says, glaring at Nate. “We have some things to talk about. I’ll see you in a few minutes.”
Dismissed like a little girl. By both of them.
Well!
“This is a joke, right?”
They both ignore me.
I plant my hands on my hips. “Seriously?”
Still, no response.
“You know, as a general rule, if you’re going to act like total dicks, you should wear condoms over your heads.” Their eyes snap simultaneously to look at me when the words leave my lips. I widen my eyes in an innocent expression and continue in a sweet tone. “It would help prevent the macho bullshit from leaving your mouths.”
With that, I spin — not easy, on four-inch stiletto heels, let me tell you — and head for the doors. I don’t stop to say goodbye to Gemma or Lila; I stomp straight for the exits and ask a startled valet to call my town car. The expression on my face must be seriously pissed, because he practically jumps out of his skin when he sees me coming. I’m too angry to care. (Much.)
Not even a minute later, I watch my car pull to the curb, blow past the paparazzi, and am settled in the backseat being whisked toward the city proper.
Screw Nate. Screw Cormack.
In fact, screw men altogether.
Celibacy isn’t so bad. There are perks to dying alone.
For instance — never having to shave my legs ever again. Not worrying about rogue eyebrow hairs. Being able to watch seven consecutive hours of Netflix without anyone around to reprimand me for my poor life decisions. Never having to share my French fries when I order takeout. Being able to sleep diagonally across my queen-sized mattress.
See! Perks.
Totally worth a life of solitude and an endless sexual dry spell.
I sigh deeply and stare out the window. It doesn’t matter what I try to tell myself — I’m still tormented by the knowledge that I’d trade any amount of single-girl benefits for just one night of sexy-benefits in Nate’s arms.
Chapter Ten
What did one ocean say to the other ocean?
Nothing, they just waved.
Sea what I did there?
Phoebe West, wondering if she should
try her hand at standup comedy.
“Booooooooooo.” I tug at the leash. “Come on.”