“I told Zoey I was leaving. She was supposed to—”
“She did tell me, but what the hell, Zane? I go to the bathroom and come back to her telling me you’d left.”
“I knew you could handle it just fine.”
“Me being able to handle it doesn’t give you the right to just bail.”
“I didn’t have a choice. I had to get Kostas out of here before he caused a scene.”
“Caused a scene, pissed you off, or you just needed a night out with the boys to feel like a man again because you’ve been stuck sitting on a bus with me?”
I shove my hands in my pockets and look around to see who else is within earshot. “He would have hit on you.”
“Controlling who I see now, are you?” She purses her lips and her eyes narrow at something before turning back to me. “That seems to have escalated quickly. From ‘I don’t want anything to do with you’ to you telling me who I can and can’t talk to? Talk about being a hypocrite.”
“You’re being irrational, Harlow . . .” My sigh fills the room because the minute those words are out of my mouth, I know they are a mistake. The steam all but coming out of her ears paired with her gritted jaw confirms it.
“Is that so?”
Any man who’s heard that tone of voice before knows they are in deep shit.
“Look, you have a right to be mad—”
“You’re damn right I do. You said you had to go deal with Kostas and you up and left.” She rises from her seat and throws her hands up in disgust. “Up and left to do who knows what.”
Tears? There are tears in her eyes?
Fuck.
I sigh only because I have no clue why she’s so upset.
“You don’t know Kostas like I do. I’ve known him for years, and he was in a mood to start some trouble. I was just trying to protect you from it.”
“Protect me or protect you?” Her eyes veer to my shoulder again and then her teeth grit when she meets my gaze again. “Why would he do that? I’ve been trying to figure out why exactly he wouldn’t want you to succeed if he’s such a good friend.”
“He’s complicated.”
“It makes it so much easier when you say that because then you don’t have to explain, right? Was it because God forbid he found me attractive and you were trying to mark some claim on me you don’t have? Was it because there’s something else going on here that—”
“Look, I’m sorry.” The most important words I need to say before I continue because one, she deserves to hear them, and two, fuck if it doesn’t give me a few more seconds to admire how damn sexy she is when she’s angry.
“And I’m sorry I waited around for you to come back. I’m sorry doing whatever you were doing with Kostas took precedence over what we had going. I’m sorry that I had to stand in there tonight and say all of these lovely things about you while inside I was quietly cussing you out for making me cover for you. Oh, Harlow, I’m so excited that you found love on the site. Ms. Nicks, can we get a word with Zane . . . oh, wait? Where is he? Blah. Blah. Blah.”
“You wouldn’t have wanted Kostas there.”
“I couldn’t have cared less if he was here or not, but it was you who should have been. You know I can hold my own with egotistical, self-centered men who think they are God’s gift to women.” Her smile is tight. “Case in point . . . you.”
I hiss at her dig and then lose the battle over fighting back my smile.
“Don’t you smile at me.” She points a finger into my chest. “This isn’t amusing. None of it is. This is me and my job and my . . .” The finger turns into a hand pressed against my chest pushing me away. “Screw this. Screw you. I’m going to bed.”
She strides past me, her heels pounding the floor, and those hips of hers swaying so hard I groan.
EACH STEP ON THE PAVEMENT—the sound of my heels hitting it—only serves to exacerbate my fury.
Just when I start to believe that Zane is the guy I think he is, he up and leaves me in the middle of our job to have a boy’s night out. He comes back acting as if nothing happened except for the dark pink stain of lipstick on his collar that I’m sure he doesn’t even know is there. And I’m supposed to stand there and not be pissed?
Or hurt?
That’s why I needed space. Distance. Anything to figure out why I’m more hurt than pissed. Hurt by the sight of lipstick more than pissed over him leaving me to fend for myself.
He doesn’t matter—it was just sex—so I shouldn’t be hurt.
But the tears still sting. The rejection still remains.
Gah. I hate being a female sometimes. I hate that despite telling myself this doesn’t matter, I still care.
“Harlow.”
I close my eyes as Zane calls out behind me. “Please, just leave me alone.” I hate that the break in my voice betrays me.
“Will you stop a second?”
“No.”
My feet ache. My head hurts. My temper is blazing.
“Sorry I wasn’t there tonight. I made the decision I thought was the best at the time.”
“Whatever.” But I don’t stop walking.