Chapter 21

CHAPTERTWENTY-ONE

“I knew it!”Lucy squealed.

After Trey’s impromptu visit to the nail salon, London had no choice but to loop her friend in on the situation. For the next two days, Lucy vacillated between sulking over being kept in the dark and bubbling with euphoria as she thumbed through bridal magazines, searching for the perfect maid of honor dress.

“You know second chance romances are my all-time favorites,” Lucy gushed on Sunday morning. “But your second chance romance is so much better than the ones in my books!”

“For the hundredth time, there is no romance story here, second chance or otherwise,” London insisted.

“Mmm-hmm,” Lucy replied.

Despite the fact they were having this conversation by phone, London had no doubt her friend was wearing a self-satisfied smile. Lucy was a dyed-in-the-wool romantic. London, on the other hand, was pragmatic enough to know that a romance with Trey was not in the cards. He just wanted her for sex.

She flounced down on the sofa in her living room, letting her eyes drift to the framed photograph above her fireplace. The same photo Trey had hanging above his fireplace. Every time she glanced at it, she wondered if he was looking at it, too. The thought unnerved her.

“Why do you think he has one of my lake photographs in his house?” she asked Lucy.

Her friend sighed softly. “Did you ask him?”

“Yeah. He gave me some vague answer. Just like all his replies to any question I ask.”

“Maybe you’re not asking the right questions.”

London sat up. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that you’ve already made up your mind how a relationship with Trey will end before you even dip your toe in.”

“Maybe because the man has a proven history in that department. It’s in print, for crying out loud.”

“Okay, yeah. But do we really believe everything an angry ex spouts off in a magazine?”

“Hello! He left me without a word.”

“Yes, but let’s not forget you were practically kids back then. People change.”

“Oh, Trey changed, all right. Just not for the better.”

Did she really believe that, though?

These past weeks, she’d gotten so many glimpses of the guy she once knew that she questioned if he actually was the arrogant robot who was lionized in the media. Or was he simply portraying himself as the man everyone wanted him to be? The old Trey would hate having to pretend to be something he’s not.

At least the Trey she thought she knew.

Gah!

“Why did he have to insert himself back into my life? It was so much easier hating him from afar.”

“Of course it was easier. You could control the spin on it.”

“Meaning?”

Lucy sighed again. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you manage a lot of your life by compartmentalizing. You tend to steer clear of things that are chancy. Or anything that will open you up to even a smidge of pain. You’ve put your relationship with Trey in a neat little box, labeled it, and tucked it away. By keeping that box closed you’re safe from any further heartache. That’s not healthy, London.”

“Wow.”

“Hey! Look at how much you keep from me? And I’m your best friend, for freak’s sake.”

Guilty as charged.

With all the hullabaloo after Trey left the salon the other night, London hadn’t had a chance to break the news about her impending move. She needed to come clean with Lucy. Except she couldn’t very well rip off the Band-Aid over the phone. The announcement needed to be made face-to-face. She’d do it first thing tomorrow.

Unfortunately, Lucy wasn’t done slinging arrows. “I’m sure you rationalize it by wanting to protect me. And I love you for that. I really do. But maybe deep down you keep yourself buttoned up so you won’t have to deal with anything negative.”

And that arrow hurt.

“I’m not saying all this to be cruel,” Lucy continued. “The significant men in your life have let you down pretty hard. I get that. It’s only natural to want to protect yourself from more heartache. But is closing yourself off entirely from potential love the answer?”

“Trey never said anything about love.” She ignored the tightening in her chest brought on by that truth. “He just wants a booty call, Luce.”

“So? When was the last time you had one of those?”

It’s been too long to count,her girl parts screamed.

“Dude,” Lucy said. “A person would have to be blind not to notice the sexual attraction between the two of you. It is hawt. Honestly, it was a wonder the smoke detectors didn’t start screeching in the salon the other night given the vibes you guys were giving off. My mom had to turn on the AC just to cool everyone off.”

London squirmed on the sofa recalling how quickly he’d made her come in the wine cellar. With barely any effort, her body reminded her.

Imagine what it would be like if you had all the time in the world and no fear of being interrupted?

Great, now her brain was weighing in.

Why not?he’d asked.

“Look, you do you. But at the very least, I think you should go to the picnic and make him explain himself. Get the answers you need. It’s the only way to close the chapter of Trey Van Horn.”

Lucy’s suggestion made some sense. Once London moved to Chicago, she might not get the opportunity to confront Trey again. To get the truth she deserved.

“And if those answers involve the two of you getting naked? Even better,” Lucy added with a giggle. “Who knows? He might be a total dud in bed. That’s one way to jettison him from your fantasies.”

“With my luck, I’d have to name my vibrator after him,” she mumbled.

“Ohmigod, but wouldn’t that be sweeeet?”

“Why not?” London heard herself saying.

Her girl parts were screaming along with Lucy. Down girls. She was going to the picnic to finally have the frank conversation that had been a long time coming. To get the answers she needed for closure. If getting answers meant getting naked, well, then at least she’d get him out of her system.

Her body let out another whoop.

Sex with Trey didn’t have to mean anything, she rationalized. He’d made it very clear his career was his top priority. And so was hers. Besides, she’d be living in a different city in a few weeks. London didn’t have to open up the box all the way. She was a mature, self-evolved woman. Her heart would be perfectly safe as long as she never trusted Trey Van Horn with it.

* * *

She was wearinganother one of those flowy sundresses. This one in lavender, setting off her flawless skin to mouth-watering perfection. Trey’s junk was practically doing a touchdown dance at the thought of what London might be wearing beneath that dress.

Or not wearing.

From across the crowded tent covering the Growlers’ practice field, he tracked her as she stopped at the opposite endzone to greet the caterer with a hug. The florist was next. She’d likely worked with both at some event here in town at one point. Hell, he wouldn’t be surprised if they were clients. She and Bennie seemed to represent every mom-and-pop business in the city. Even the woman holding the reins to one of the ponies Mrs. C brought in for the kids leaned in for a hug when London passed.

Trey’s chest swelled with unexpected pride. He may be the bigger celebrity in Milwaukee, but London Headley was a star in her own right. Her clients and contractors obviously trusted and adored her. While he would always carry the guilt from the part he unknowingly played in her abandoning film school, he found some solace watching how she’d reshaped her life and her career, successfully landing on her feet.

Mrs. C and her husband stopped London’s forward progress at the fifty-yard line. The two women shared a laugh at something Mr. Ciaciura said. The Growlers’ community relations director joined their circle and was bending London’s ear when Trey felt the weight of someone’s stare. He turned around to find Fletcher smirking at him.

“’What?”

The kicker jutted his chin in London’s direction. “Does her being here mean you won’t be such a dick to be around? Because you’ve been a bloody prickly bear the past few days.”

It was true. Trey had been on pins and needles ever since leaving London at the nail salon. He’d been a jerk issuing that damn challenge to her. Acting like a cocky asshat wasn’t exactly the best way to earn back her trust. He was going about this the wrong way. Thinking with the wrong head.

“Could go either way,” he replied honestly.

Fletcher cocked a bushy eyebrow at him. “Meaning?”

Trey heaved a sigh. “Meaning I still don’t know where I stand with her.”

The bastard had the nerve to grin broadly. “It’s about time a lass gave you a run for your money. You’ve wasted too much time on empty-headed socialites who agree to whatever you want as long as they get to parade along the red carpet by your side.” He patted Trey on the shoulder. “You’re a gamer, though, Van Horn. I’ve no doubt you’ll win her over.”

Buoyed by his friend’s optimism, Trey headed in London’s direction. As if she sensed him coming, she glanced his way. Her lips twitched with a shy smile. It was so sinful, Trey felt it all the way to his groin. He grinned back at her, surprised by the immense relief he felt that she’d shown up. She excused herself from the Ciaciuras and made her way toward him.

“There you are, Lover Boy!”

The sound of a familiar female voice had Trey freezing in his tracks, leaving him a sitting duck for Bree Moynihan. His former lover latched onto his arm tighter than a barnacle on his father’s yacht. She curved into his body, her coconut scent overwhelming his nostrils. Of course she was dressed in a slinky dress that would have been more appropriate at a cocktail party than a picnic. Her hair and makeup were flawless, yet this close, Trey could see the red rims of her eyes and the tell-tale shadows beneath them.

“What the hell, Bree?”

“Surprise,” she murmured. “Everyone is watching us, so I need you to play along.”

Everyone is watching us?Trey’s gaze darted around the tent. Sure enough, nearly every guest’s eyes—not to mention several cell phone cameras—were aimed in their direction. Including a shocked blue pair.

Shit!

“I’m not playing along with anything, Bree,” he growled, attempting to gracefully yank his arm free.

She untangled herself from his arm, but only so she could cradle his cheeks with both her hands. Her lips followed them in, taking his mouth by surprise. A few wolf whistles rang out among the crowd as Bree ate at his mouth. Trey cringed and jerked his head away before grabbing her by the wrist and marching her out of the tent.

Her ridiculous heels were tearing up the turf. Not that he cared. He just wanted the woman to go back to Palm Beach.

“What the actual hell, Bree?” he shouted when they reached the level ground of the parking lot.

“I know!” She pressed her hands to her face. “But I’m getting desperate. Idris only pays attention to me when he knows someone else wants me.”

“Idris?”

She rolled her eyes. “My client from Quatar. You met him last month at the Polo Club.”

Trey let a few choice words fly. “Client my ass. And you couldn’t pick some other sucker to use to make this guy jealous?”

“I was in Chicago promoting the show. Your mother mentioned the picnic. Idris follows every athlete on social media. It was worth a shot.” She shrugged.

Damn his mother to hell. No doubt she thought she was being coy trying to throw the two of them together.

“Well, there’s a flaw in your plan, Bree. I don’t want you!”

If his angry words hurt her, she didn’t show it. “Of course, you don’t. That’s why you’re so perfect for this. I don’t have to worry about you wanting something more because you are a commitment-phobe.”

Holy hell.

He dragged his fingers through his hair. He didn’t have time for this. London was back at the picnic getting the wrong idea. He needed to find her and explain.

“First of all, don’t ever touch me in public or private ever again. You got that?”

This time she did flinch.

“I want no part of your games. If you ever wondered why I’m a—” he made air quotes with his fingers “—commitment-phobe, it’s because women do shit like this.”

He dragged in a breath trying to soften his tone, knowing full well he deserved part of the blame for this. After all, he’d let her use him as a decoy last month. It hadn’t mattered what people thought of him then. Today it did, however. At least it mattered what one person thought of him.

“Newsflash. You’re wasting your time on a douchebag who isn’t good enough to breathe the same air you do. Your polo playing sheik should be falling all over himself to make you happy. You’re better than this guy, Bree. Have some pride and move on.”

With that he turned on his heel and headed back into the tent to look for London. He didn’t get very far. As soon as he got inside, he found a very pissed off Scotsman blocking his path.

“It’s not what you think,” Trey snapped as he scanned the tent for a lavender sundress.

“She’s long gone.”

Trey let out a violent string of curse words. The Growlers’ head coach shot him a warning glare as he covered his young son’s ears.

“You buggered that up nicely,” Fletcher said.

“Gee, thanks, Captain Obvious.”

“What? Did you think the lass wouldna show, so you invited a backup just in case?”

“I told you,” Trey bit out through his tight jaw. “It isn’t what you think.”

“Mm.” Fletcher scrutinized him slowly before sighing heavily. “I heard her ask the florist for a lift back to her place. You just missed them.”

“Thank you.” Trey clapped the kicker on the shoulder.

Fletcher held out his arm, halting Trey before he could race off.

“You might want to Google some techniques for groveling before you catch up to her. I seriously doubt that’s in your wheelhouse.”