Brynn had given enough polite brush-offs in her dating career to recognize when she was receiving one, but she couldn’t bring herself to care that this was probably the last she’d see of Evan the lawyer. She couldn’t blame the guy—from the way she’d kissed, he probably thought she was frigid.

She sighed and let herself inside, anticipating a hot bath, a good book, and a cup of tea.

The sight of the man sitting on her couch had her screaming like a banshee and dropping her purse. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Will held up her latest issue of Cosmopolitan without glancing up from the magazine. “Did you know,” he said, “that the average American woman has seven sexual partners in her life? Isn’t that interesting?”

Brynn took a deep breath to steady her pounding heart.

“Which notch is Evan on your bedpost?” Will asked thoughtfully. “Five? Fourteen? Thirty?”

“You were spying on me?”

He shrugged. “Open window, perfect hearing. Very awkward.”

Brynn let out a snarl. “Get out of my house. How did you even get in here?”

He sighed as though she was being an unreasonable child, and reluctantly set the magazine aside after dog-earing a page. “If you must know, your mother gave me a key. I stopped by to fix their computer and she asked if I could drop off the pie dish you left at their house.”

“My house isn’t even remotely on your way home. You mean to tell me that my mother expected you to drive all the way out here for a six-dollar pie dish?”

He merely watched her, somehow managing to look both amused and disinterested. “No. I volunteered,” he said simply.

“Why would you do that?”

“To spy on you and Romeo, of course. Who was he? Accountant? Chiropractor? Does he supply the retainers for all your snaggletoothed teens?”

Brynn gave a small, secretive smile as though the thought of Evan got her juices flowing. “He was a lawyer. Very rich. Very handsome.”

Will snorted, and followed her into the kitchen. “He sounds absolutely riveting. How was the kiss?”

“That’s some pretty thorough spying,” she said in response.

Brynn pulled down two wineglasses even as she told herself that he would absolutely not be staying. “Why are you here? And no more crap about my pie dish. I’m not really in the mood for company. I’m tired, cranky, and sort of…”

“Horny?”

“I was going to say pissed that you’re in my home, unexpected, without asking. If you’ve come to apologize about our…episode, let’s get it over with and then you can leave.”

He frowned and stepped closer. “Why the hell would I be apologizing? I don’t apologize for fucking, Brynn. Not when the woman is as willing as you were.”

A blush crept over her face. She had been willing. More than willing.

“You’re not seeing him again,” Will said.

“What? Who?”

“That idiot who was stupid enough to leave after one kiss.”

“The Neanderthal routine doesn’t suit you, William. What can you possibly care about who I date?”

The expression that flashed over his face might have been hurt, but it was gone before she could identify it. “Did that night mean so little to you, Brynn? You’re already looking for your next conquest?”

She looked at him more closely. “Aren’t you? Wasn’t what happened between us just the latest move in the power game we play?”

And then she saw it again. It wasn’t just hurt. It was vulnerability. Had that night mattered to him? Did she matter to him?

“Never mind,” he said roughly. “I’ll be going. I didn’t mean to intrude upon your post-date euphoria.”

The moment had passed and damn if she didn’t want it back. “No, Will, wait.” She reached out a hand but stopped before she touched him. “Can’t we just…can’t you…”

“What?” he asked, watching her intently. “What do you want?”

“I…I just wanted to make sure that you hadn’t told anyone about us.”

His eyes went colder than she’d ever seen them. “No. Not a soul. You weren’t worth the bragging rights.”

That stung, but she didn’t let herself swipe back. “You should go. And I’m sick of skipping my own family’s dinners so that we can avoid each other. Maybe you could miss one once in a while?”

Will gave her a disgusted look. “Exactly how old are you, Brynn?”

She blushed but stood her ground. “Look, I know it’s immature, I just…I can’t see you after knowing that we…”

She shuddered a little at the intensity of the memory, and saw immediately that he misinterpreted the reaction as disgust.

“All right. If that’s what you want.”

His voice was so dead that she almost panicked. Almost begged him to take her again. But instead she gave a businesslike nod. “Good, then we’re agreed. It doesn’t have to be forever. I just need a little space.”

“Baby, I’m about to give you all the space you need,” he said with a blank expression.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she yelled at his retreating back.

But her only answer was the resounding slam of her front door.

* * *

Brynn barely remembered the drive home, but by the time she made it up to her bedroom with the intent of taking a bath to soothe her rage, she had several missed calls, which she’d ignored.

There were three from her mother, each with an accompanying We still love you, but are you doing drugs? voicemail. There were two missed calls from her sister, which meant Sophie had been updated on big sister’s meltdown and wanted all the gritty details.

There was even a typo-ridden text from her dad saying that his college roommate had gone into psychiatry if she ever needed someone to talk to.

And one missed call from Will. But no voice mail.

It didn’t even occur to her to hit redial. What could possibly be said?

Brynn turned on the hot water in the tub before bracing her hands on the vanity and taking a deep breath as she stared at the mirror. She looked…awful.

Hair that was shorter than it had ever been before and sticking up and curling in weird places. The fact that it had been dyed back to her usual blonde should have been calming, but combined with the layered cut, it was all wrong. It was like old Brynn had collided with the new Brynn, who had in turn tried to go back to old Brynn, only…

She couldn’t go back.

Her eyes had a wild, unhinged look that she didn’t recognize, and her white blouse had pink spots from where she’d gotten blowback from the strawberry grenade she’d tossed at Will.

Her mind kept flitting back to that moment when she realized what he was going to say.

On one hand, she regretted her reaction. She could have just let it go. Given it no more reply than a rolling of the eyes, and let her parents assume it was merely round two thousand eight hundred and ninety-one in the saga that was Will and Brynn hate each other.

But oddly, calm had never once entered her mind.

And given a time machine, she wasn’t sure she could muster up a calm reaction if she got a do-over.

Because in that moment, she hadn’t been feeling calm, or annoyance, or even rage.

She’d been hurt.

Which was stupid, really. She’d known the minute she’d knocked on Will’s door and asked him to have a fling that it was irresponsible. She had known on some level that having your worst enemy accompany you to a tattoo parlor was begging for trouble.

But then in some strange, unexplainable little bubble of time, she’d trusted him. Trusted him to decide what permanent brand she was putting on her body. Trusted him not to tell anyone.

Some detached, obviously moronic part of her had thought it was their thing. A forever marker of their ill-fated but somehow necessary time together.

And he’d thrown it in her face.

Swallowing around a lump in her throat at the ache, she dumped some of her favorite honey-almond bubbles into the steaming water and let it foam enticingly before slowly beginning to disrobe in wooden, mechanical movements.