“You deserve someone good, Teagan. You might not want that someone to be me, but it’s definitely not him.”

He doesn’t know. He’s just spewing his regular bullshit. I drain the rest of the water and avert my gaze to the dance floor, trying desperately to keep the relief off my face.

“I saw him with another woman tonight.”

“So?”

“Oh.” He arches a brow. “So you two have an open relationship, then? Interesting. Maybe Heath knew you better than you knew yourself.”

“Shut up,” I growl. My nails bite into my palms, and I force myself to relax my hands. I take a deep breath. “I’m sure whatever you saw wasn’t what you thought. Carter has a lot of friends. He’s lived here his whole life.”

“They weren’t talking to each other in the way friends talk. She practically jumped into his lap when she saw him, like she’d done it a hundred times.” He smiles slowly, like this is a poker game and he knows he’s laying out a winning hand. “And then they left. Together.”

I flinch as jealousy slams into me. I know Carter. This is what he’s like—the women, the flirting. At least it’s what he’s been like for a while now. I shouldn’t be surprised that a random woman threw herself at him. And he’s not really mine, so I have no right to feel this jealous at all.

I want to ask what exactly he saw, what she looks like, and where Carter is now. I want to go over to Jackson Brews and get between him and any woman who dares to get too close. But I can’t reveal those insecurities to Rich, and in truth, I have no right to feel this possessiveness rocking through me.

“Do you want to see them?” Rich asks, pulling his phone from his pocket.

At first I think he means Carter and the girl, but then I realize he’s talking about the pictures. “No.” The one he sent me this afternoon was enough. “All I want is for you to delete them.”

“Why are you acting like you didn’t like it?” He grins at his phone. “Thanks to these, I don’t have to rely on my memory to know you enjoyed yourself.”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t. You tell yourself you hate me because you don’t want to accept responsibility for how you felt that night. For what Heath could see even when you denied it.”

I turn to the wall inside the booth. I don’t want to have this conversation, but I refuse to make a scene. I refuse to let him bait me.

“Maybe while Carter’s busy with his girl, you could teach him a lesson.” He tucks a lock of my hair behind my ear, and I flinch.

“Am I interrupting?”

I yank away and look up to see Carter standing at the foot of our table, his angry gaze leveled on Rich. “Not at all,” I say. I want to stand up—to put distance between me and Rich and prove this isn’t what it looks like—but Rich has me trapped inside the booth.