“Winter, I’m sorry.”

“No need to be.” I shake my head with a smile. “I apologize for my friend. It’s not what it looked like.”

It’s exactly what it looked like. Did I mention I sucked him off in the restaurant lavatory last night?

Anyhow, Aleck said it himself, “We never even fucked, so we’re basically nothing.”

“Well, in that case, I would love it if you’d accompany me to dinner tonight. I know a few guys that have a house a couple miles up the Pacific Coast Highway, in Crescent Bay. I’ll hang out there and be back around seven?”

“That would be great. I’ll see you at seven.”

“Okay.” Those dimples again—they make my core clench. “Bye, Winter.”

“Goodbye, Dylan.”

He turns around, and as he heads back to the elevator, I watch his broad back for only a moment before I go back into my suite.

Did I just agree to go on a date with Hot Bartender Guy seconds after Aleck’s erection was grinding into my center?

And I’m no kinesics expert, but Aleck seemed pissed. Did I just screw up?

Jane Austen, help me!

SIXTEEN

WINTER

The rest of the day, Aleck and I moved around each other like water and oil. Sharing a space, yet unable to mix. Repelling each other before a word was spoken. I walked into a room, and he walked out.

I heard him leave his bedroom and decided enough was enough, so I left my room to talk to him. I came out of the hallway in time to see the suite door closing behind him when he left.

When he came back an hour later, I was at the island eating lunch. He was on a phone call, so I waited, smiling at him, hoping he would end the call so we could talk. His icy, businesslike demeanor saw my smile, then laughed in my face before turning his back to me and leaving the room.

Dottie and Keith brought wine and hung out in my room while I got ready for my date with Dylan. Aleck greeted them, completely ignoring my existence. His treatment was icier than my name, and I didn’t like it. It made me feel… icky.

Two things were certain: One, Aleck was mad. He’s mad I’m going on a date. Can I blame him? No, seriously, that’s an actual question—can I blame him? He and I aren’t dating. He doesn’t date for crying out loud! He’s told me several times that he doesn’t do relationships, or love. And barely even life if it doesn’t fit into his tightly managed and well-manicured box.

I’ll admit, the timing of Dylan showing up was bad. But what was I supposed to do? Dylan drove here specifically to ask me out. Was I really going to tell him, No, I can’t, you see, I’m kind of trying to bang the best man?

And two, Aleck Fox is a giant man-baby when he doesn’t get what he wants.