I’d already drunk my way through the bottle of scotch, the reminder of it drilling its way into my head. But even that hadn’t lessened the sting of loneliness I felt, and the longer it lasted, the angrier I felt about it.

Since when did I walk around, moping over a girl?

Especially one I’d barely touched.

But, God, when I had…

Her body had been like putty in my hands, her lips had felt like velvet, and she’d tasted like fucking cream.

I put the memory deep in the back of my mind because even the slightest flashback would have me hard in seconds, which only reminded me of the fact that she’d left.

Without saying good-bye.

For all I knew, she’d gone back to the bastard. After everything he’d done, she could be cozied up to the big, dumb ox right now, wasting away their lazy Sunday, watching movies, as they cuddled under blankets in bed.

“Damn it!” I shouted, pushing myself off the couch. I stalked toward the kitchen in search of my next liquid meal.

Maybe this one would actually do the trick.

After an exhaustive hunt, tossing open every cupboard and drawer, I managed to find one miniature bottle of peach-flavored vodka and an empty bottle of tequila.

Where did that even come from?

Guess I had an errand to run.

Throwing on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, I grabbed a baseball cap to control the Mohawk that was starting to form from sleeping on the awkward sofa, and then I headed out.

A sharp yelp met me at the door.

Glancing up, I found a pair of familiar dark brown eyes staring back at me.

“I’ve never seen you in a baseball cap,” Cara said in a rush, obviously embarrassed by the terrible girl noise she’d just made in the hallway. It’d been so loud that I was surprised old Mrs. Fenton wasn’t sticking her nose out from across the hall to investigate.

“Well, I don’t wear suits all the time—something you probably would have discovered if you’d stayed around long enough.”

She blanched instantly, her eyes widening, and then she turned away from me.

Rather than the cool and aloof approach I was known for, apparently, I was going for direct and a bit desperate today.

Good move, Cavenaugh. Good move.

“I’m sorry. That was rude,” I said, softly touching her shoulder. “Let me start over.” I cleared my throat as she slowly turned back toward me. “Hi. How are you?”

A small smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth. “Better. Thank you for asking. But I didn’t mean to interrupt your weekend. I can come back.”

“No, come on in. I just realized I don’t need anything anyway.”