Cricket lays a hand on my arm. “No, Whit. I want you. If you truly can’t handle it, I’ll understand. But . . . I will hold it against you forever.”

“Whore,” I mumble under my breath.

“No, that’s Karma. I’ve got zero kids, and she has two with no baby-daddy in sight.”

I draw in a deep breath and try to find the strength to tell my cousin it’s fine. I can do this. I won’t flake out on her like I basically have for the last ten years.

“I’m picking out my own dress, and I get to throw you whatever kind of bachelorette party I want.”

Her squeal fills the van. “Fuck yes!” She lunges across the center console and wraps her arms around me. “Thank you, Whit. You’re the best, and I love you so much. It’ll be great. I promise. You won’t even notice he exists.”

And that’s where Cricket is dead wrong. Pretending Lincoln Riscoff doesn’t exist is impossible.

I already tried it once, and I remember exactly how that turned out . . .

Seven

Whitney

The past

“I’ve got something you might want.”

His voice.

My head jerked up and I looked around, thinking I must have been hallucinating, but no. I wasn’t.

Lincoln Riscoff was standing in the doorway of the Havalins’ bathroom, holding my abandoned boot, while I was on my hands and knees scrubbing grout.

Awesome. Why don’t we just take a scene right out of Cinderella? The prince bringing around a shoe to fit the maid.

I tore my gaze away from my favorite boot dangling in front of my face and forced my attention back to the grout.

I will not acknowledge him. I will not give him the satisfaction.

I also wouldn’t think about how my lips tingled when I remembered what it felt like to kiss him.

“Whitney—”

“Go away.” I bit out the words as humiliation burned my skin. I wasn’t ashamed of cleaning. It was honest work, and I needed all the money I could save if I was ever going to get out of this town. But I hated having him standing over me like he was better than me.

“Give me a goddamned chance, Blue. You did when you didn’t know my name.”

“I’m working. Leave me alone.” I scrubbed harder, digging the toothbrush between the edges of the expensive tile.

“Just look at me. I’m not giving up. I’ll stand here all day, if that’s what it takes.”

My lips screwed together in an angry moue and I bolted to my feet, one hand on my hip and the other jabbing the toothbrush into his chest.

“You can stand wherever you want. That’s what Riscoffs do, right? Whatever the hell they want. Guess what? Not everyone has that privilege. Some of us have work to do, and you’re in my way.”

Something flashed across his hazel gaze, and it softened.

“I can’t stop thinking about you.” His roughened words sounded completely honest.