Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

The night is ending as well as I expected it to. I mean, on a date with Callum. Callum Walker, the nice guy who cares for—maybe even loves—me. What was I thinking? I let out a sigh. I know what I was thinking. I was thinking he’s the exact opposite of who my mother chose for me to marry. That’s right. Chose for me to marry . If I want to receive my inheritance in three months at the ripe old age of twenty-five, then I need to marry Roman Kinkaid.

Who is Roman Kinkaid, you might ask? Well, he’s been a thorn in my side since we were kids. If I stood up, he pushed me down. If I wore pigtails, he pulled them. None of it for the reasons mothers tell us boys pick on girls. Nope. Rome didn’t like me; he hated me. He hated everything about me from the way I talked to the color of my hair. I’ll never know why because I avoid him like the plague and he does the same.

But enough of Rome. My problem right now is Callum. He’s a nice guy and I do care for him. We’ve been seeing one another for four months now and while he is a master between the sheets, I feel like something—or someone—is missing.

I sigh again.

Callum looks over. “What’s going on, Beth?”

I meet his gaze. You wouldn’t know it in this light but Callum has the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen. A deep and clear cerulean. They’re beautiful. He is too, so why is it I want more? And from someone else?

“I don’t know. I’m feeling off tonight,” I hedge.

“Why didn’t you say something? We could have ordered in.”

I grab his upper arm and lean in, his muscles bunch under my touch. “You know how I love parading you around on my arm and how you love parading me around on yours.”

His brow furrows. He’s not buying it for one second.

“Why can’t you just tell me the truth for once?”

“I don’t know.” That’s the honest truth.

“If you’d just crack the door, even a little bit,” he pushes.

I’m not in the mood for this, so I’ll do what I do best. Fake it.

I wink. “You know my door’s always open for you.”

He scoffs.

This is how it’s gone the last couple of dates. He pushes for more, and I push him back hoping to buy more time to figure myself out.

“Stop. You’re not going to distract me with sex tonight.”

Of course he’s caught on. He’s not stupid. The opposite, in fact. A brilliant businessman who’s made the covers of the most coveted magazines.

“But… the sex is so good,” I purr.

He licks his upper lip, something he does when he’s picturing me naked.

“Why bother going out with me if you’re so miserable you drink yourself to oblivion?” He sighs. “I’ll never understand you.”

“I’m not miserable,” I retort. “Just… not feeling myself.”

He turns to me. “Will you ever trust me, Beth?”

“I do trust you.” I do. Just not with all of me. That’s not something I’ve ever done with anyone.

“Not completely. Not really. I’ve known you since we were six years old. If you think there’s anything I don’t know about you, you’re wrong. I notice everything about you.”

“You sound kind of stalker-y.” And I sound like a bitch.

The car stops.

“You know what? I think this is a good place to drop you for the night.” He doesn’t even look at me. Just stares straight out the windshield.

“Are you?—”

“Serious?” He cuts me a glare. “Yep.”

I raise my brows.

“Get. Out. Beth.”

Whoa.

I don’t bother to explain or apologize. He’ll know it’s a lie, and one thing I’m damn sure not is a liar. A shitty person, sure. A fake at times, yes. But I’m no liar. Truth is, I don’t even know what my problem is right now. I’m... antsy.

I open the door to the humid summer air. It’s an uncomfortable seventy-something even at ten p.m. This is going to be hell on my hair. Naturally curly hair in the humidity equals Orphan Annie-like curls with frizz. I’m really glad the date’s over. I mean, even if Callum hates me a little bit right now, I’m still vain enough to care what I look like. I really am a shitty person caring more about my hair than his feelings.

I step out and before the door’s even closed, he’s speeding off. Who could blame him? I know he wants more. I thought it could be—maybe. I sigh. Who am I kidding? Though I am loathsome at times, I can’t marry a good guy like Callum just for the money—well, and the sex. The stability. I might not, but he deserves better. He deserves true love, and while I’m on the cusp, I’m still torn between him—the good guy; and Rome—the guy who hates me.

I look around. It’s so dark I don’t even know where I am. Then it hits me. I think this is a good place for me to drop you for the night . He delivered me to my parent’s beach house. Fuck me. This is not happening. I’m a good ten miles from home and I’m drunk. Not black-out drunk but stumbling-a-bit drunk. I’d rather die than see my parents right now. Listen to a lecture me about drinking too much? No, thank you.

I’ll just crash on someone’s lounge chair on the beach. There’s gotta be someone out for the night.

It’s a slow, weaving walk, but I manage. House after house either has lights on or cars in the drive until finally there’s one with no lights and no cars. As I walk closer, I recognize the beach house. It’s the Wilson “house”. This place sold for a cool one-point-five mil. Insane price for a mid-size home, but someone wanted it bad enough to risk that much money against a possible hurricane. More power to ‘em. They’re as crazy as my parents. I circle around the house. Now to see if they have a lounge—ah, yes. There we go.

It's my lucky night. There’s a dry towel on the porch railing. Perfect to cover up with since the dress I wore tonight I chose with seduction in mind, and though it’s in the seventies, the humidity puts a chill in the air. I need to cover some of this bare skin.

I set up my spot, loving that the ocean waves nearly touch the chair, bringing the salty sea spray scent to the air. I toe off my sandals on the end of the chaise, tuck my clutch purse beneath my head, cover myself, and snuggle in. Within minutes I drop off to sleep.