“That’s a little intense. You were only eighteen.”

She rolls her eyes. “No shit. It was an easy choice for me, though it wasn’t a clean break. The summer before I left, we kept . . .” She shakes her head. “Anyway, it was good to get away, and once I started college and realized I suddenly had more freedom than I’d had in three years, I knew I’d never get back together with him or be with anyone that controlling.”

I wonder if that’s the extent of her fear. He was controlling, and she doesn’t want that in her life again. But I know there’s more. If there weren’t, she wouldn’t have stipulated that I not ask about him. “Then in college?”

She chews on her thumbnail. “Nothing significant. Lots of dating. A few boyfriends. Nobody who gave me butterflies or made me see a future together with them.”

“And then Heath was after you moved back home? He gave you butterflies?” I’m not sure what to think about the jealousy that tears through me at those words. I’m jealous of a dead man for his relationship with my fake girlfriend. That might be a new low.

“Yeah. Butterflies and . . . thrills.” She sighs, tugging on that same lock of hair. “My parents didn’t care for him, and given how much they approved of Rich, I think that made Heath all the more appealing.”

There’s a knock on the door. “Bellman.”

“Hold that thought,” I tell Teagan, going to the door.

“Good afternoon, sir,” the man says. “I have your luggage.”

“Thanks. You can leave it by the couch.”

He nods and hauls our suitcases into the room, thanking me when I pass him a tip. Then he’s gone and we’re alone again, but judging by how diligently she’s avoiding my gaze, I wonder if she’s planning to change the subject.

I pick up my suitcase, put it on the bed, and unzip it so I can hang up my clothes as she does the same with hers. “What was Heath like?”

She stills, hand tightening around some vibrant red material. When she releases a puff of air, I realize she’s quietly laughing. “Like you, I guess.”

“Because of his job?”

Her lips twitch into a reluctant smile, but she still doesn’t meet my eyes. “More because of his . . . love of women?”

I cough. I was not expecting that. “What?”

“It’s not a secret that you like to keep your bed warm, Carter. Or that you’ve come to prefer . . . variety to commitment.”

“Jesus.” I remove a stack of clothes and put them into a dresser drawer. I guess it’s not just Jake. I’ve somehow managed to get a reputation as a player. “Is that what you think of me?”

“I’m not judging. A lot of guys are like that.”

But I want to be better than a lot of guys. I release a breath and drag a hand through my hair. This isn’t about me. Not right now. “How’d you end up with a guy like that? Heath, I mean.”