Cheater's Regret

  Tears filled her eyes. “What happened to us?”

  I refused to answer that loaded question. What happened to us, indeed? Every time I wanted something out of my reach, I had a sinking feeling I was going to get burned. And this time, I was right. But I wasn’t just burned, I was wrecked, completely destroyed. I just never expected the fire to be so hot—or the ramifications to be so life-altering. “Have fun with your little revenge plan, just leave my car alone next time.”

  “I’ll try, but you know I love the soft leather seats.”

  The memory of us kissing in my car slammed into me, her hungry lips as she pressed her body against mine, my obsessive need as I tasted her skin, stripping her clothes as fast as my hands would let me. It was always that way with her. The leather seats were nothing compared to the way she felt beneath my fingertips, and then she’d pressed her ass against the horn by accident, causing us to erupt in laughter just as someone shouted at us to get a room. I’d never experienced the type of relationship that held laughter, sex, and friendship—until Austin.

  “We had fun,” I finally said in a detached voice.

  “Tell me why we broke up, and I won’t do it,” she answered, crossing her arms.

  She only thinks she wants to know.

  It was on the tip of my tongue to say something.

  To end her misery.

  To make her smile at me again—not with the empty one reserved for banquets and ribbon cuttings, but the smile she used to give me when it was just us. God I hated the hurt in her eyes more than I hated the emptiness.

  “The ‘why’ won’t make you feel better,” I said as the silence between us stretched for miles, making me feel older than my thirty-two years. Did she see the slight twitch of my hand? The intense need my body had to touch her? Did she know that my heart, stupid messed-up thing that it was, still beat for her?

  No.

  And she never would.

  “Fine, your funeral.” She was back to being saucy and dangerously close to making me want to kiss her again.

  I barked out a laugh. “Yeah, okay.” Austin wouldn’t hurt a fly, though a small part of me was slightly worried about just how drunk Lucas had gotten. It wasn’t like I had a lot of secrets. Another part of my brain alerted me that yes, she had in fact slit my tires, but she’d been pissed; this was different.

  It’s not like Lucas got drunk and confessed anything worthwhile, right?

  My hand twitched at my side.

  She knew about the biking and the frogs.

  Did that mean he told her about my . . . phobias?

  No. Impossible.

  With a sigh, she dug into her purse and tossed me a key. “Locker number six, bottom floor.”

  “Bottom floor?”

  “Your clothes.” She gave me another empty smile. “They might be wrinkled, though, and before I forget—” She launched herself at me, fusing her mouth to mine. “Congratulations on the award.”

  I was too stunned to do anything but lick my lips like a masochistic bastard—and let out a moan at how good she still tasted—better than I remembered.

  Like candy.

  If she hated me? Wanted revenge? Then why the hell would she kiss me?

  I only had to wonder for a few seconds.

  Until I opened the door to head down to the bottom floor for my clothes and felt my mouth start to itch and my throat tighten.

  Chapter Three

  AUSTIN

  I covered my face with my hands and peeked through the space between my fingers as I looked at a picture of Thatch scratching his face. “Avery, you said it was a minor allergy!”

  We were sitting on a park bench in downtown Seattle, enjoying the best clam chowder I’d ever had while birds flew over us, begging for scraps.

  I didn’t share food.

  So I was really ready to wage war against those things if need be.

  I clutched my soup closer and elbowed her. “Avery?”

  “Hmm?” She was busy texting Lucas, probably explaining that she was going to be late for dinner because she almost killed his best friend.

  That sucked. She got a fancy dinner date, and I was scarfing down soup and trying to keep animals from taking my sloppy seconds.

  She stared at her screen with a dopey grin on her face.

  I grabbed her phone and sat on it. “You aren’t even listening!”

  “Sure I am, minor allergy, all true.” The problem with best friends? I could be sitting on her phone or peeing in front of her and it still wouldn’t faze her. She’d just fish the phone away from my naked ass and use that same hand to grab a Pringles.

  “Avery!” Oh no, his skin was going into full rash mode, and angry red bumps started appearing around his mouth. If I were a horrible human being, I’d admit it looked like herpes. Instead, I said, “It looks like his face was lit on fire.”

  “It probably was—that pesky soy allergy’s a bitch.”

  I threw up my hands. “I don’t want to kill him!”

  I wanted revenge! Not a death on my hands!

  I mean, I would be lying if I said I didn’t often dream about him getting hit by a car, but in my dream, it was almost always a really slow car, driven by a slow grandmother, and he had a few scratches and got what was coming to him.

  “Oh.” She seemed disappointed at this information, like a true friend hell-bent on making you feel better about an ex. When she’d encouraged me to eat all of the sushi and soy sauce, then gargle with the rest of the bottle for good measure, I didn’t think it would even do anything to the guy!

  Sighing, I leaned against the cold park bench and looked at the picture his receptionist had sent us. Thankfully, it had only taken a few bribes to get the woman to join our side—and once we told her the dirty details, she couldn’t wait to join Team Austin and stick it to her boss—even though she did admit that he was the easiest doctor to work with.

  Easy my ass!

  This was war.

  Casualties were all part of the game.

  I scrunched up my nose and looked at the picture again.

  Apparently, it was possible to still look damn sexy even with an ugly face rash.

  His blond hair kissed his toned and tan shoulders, and his high cheekbones just made me want to practice with my sculpting kit on his face.

  The guy’s bone structure was downright irritating.

  “He wouldn’t tell me why.” I slumped against the bench.

  “Told ya so.” Avery was still texting.

  “I even gave him an ultimatum. Tell me why you cheated, why you broke my heart when things were going so great—I mean . . . I wanted closure, an answer, anything!” I threw my hands into the air and almost chucked my phone at Avery’s face.

  “Take a deep breath,” Avery instructed. “What you wanted was for him to say he was sorry.”

  My stupid lower lip trembled as I croaked out, “Yeah, maybe.”

  It wasn’t still supposed to hurt this bad. I was beyond that stage, right? I did the crying-and-eating-my-feelings thing, and now I was pissed. Except, I’d actually seen him today, and all those emotions surged to the surface the minute he’d walked into the room. It felt like his piercing eyes saw right through me even though I’d arrived at his office in my best armor. A pencil skirt and sexy blouse with heels. I’d been prepared. But one could never be prepared for Thatch. He was muscular, tall, model gorgeous, and smart. The smart part really burned, because it just meant he had so much in his favor. I had always been the smart one, and then Thatch came into my life—gorgeous, perfect, intelligent Thatch—and he’d stolen my heart.

  Avery’s voice made me jump in my seat. “You wanted him to say he was stupid, that he messed up, that Brooke-the-bitch accidently fell across his face, and he had no choice but to kiss her because Obi-Wan Kenobi was whispering in his ear that if he didn’t return the kiss, the Force would leave planet Earth.”

  “STOP USING STAR WARS REFERENCES!”

  “I can’t help it.” She slumped. “Lu
cas is forcing me to watch all of them . . . He put me on sex hiatus until I’m done.”

  I patted her shoulder.

  “The point,” she said, thrusting her hand into the air, “is that he couldn’t give you the answers you needed or wanted. Ergo”—she held out her other hand and winked—“we make him pay.”

  “But not for long,” I said quickly. “I’m not that immature.”

  She gave me a knowing look.

  “What?” I shook my head. “I’m not. I’m an adult, and adults don’t get even when their ex-boyfriend sticks his tongue down someone else’s throat at their best friend’s fake engagement party.” Actually they did, but I was trying to sound like a responsible adult and not a psycho who wanted to inflict pain on his man parts, no matter how good they actually looked in those stupid spandex shorts.

  We were quiet, and then Avery said, “Well, when you put it that way.”

  “Whatever happened to the white picket fence?” I stood. “Or the cute dog? Or getting married in college! Whatever happened to a man keeping it the hell in his pants!”

  “Amen, sister,” a woman said under her breath as she breezed by me.

  “Thank you!” I called after her, and turned back to Avery. “Seriously. What happened to the dream?”

  “The dream?” she repeated with a confused stare.

  “The dream!” Did she really not get it? “Going to college, finding the love of your life, dating, getting married, having kids, struggling with bills, camping trips because you can’t afford to go on vacation! What the hell is wrong with society? I just want to eat hot dogs with my future husband and watch Netflix!”

  “I don’t think camping trips are really my thing. Not that kind of dreamer, and hot dogs?” Avery patted my knee.

  I shoved her hand away. “But the point is this, somehow, along the way, it’s like men have decided that it’s okay to stick their prick wherever they want and not suffer the consequences. And I’m sick of it! I’m tired of dating someone, falling for him, and then having him leave me because I’m the problem!” I kicked the dirt with my shoe. “I’m the NORMAL one, Avery!”

  She winced.

  “I mean not now. Now I’m angry, so you can’t count this against me.”

  She stared at me for a minute, then gave me a single nod. “That’s fair.”

  “He’s going to pay.” I thrust my hand into the air. “And I know just how I’m going to do it. He thinks a face rash that looks like herpes is bad? Well, by the time I’m done with him, he won’t forget the name Austin Rogers!”

  “Good for you!” Avery stood and gave me a high five. “Just don’t kill him.”

  “Hah, he should be so lucky.”

  Chapter Four

  THATCH

  My face was on fire, and my entire office was still in an uproar over the award. News had already traveled about the big race I was supposedly doing with Troy and the mayor, which meant I somehow had to learn how to ride a bike between now and then or just sprain a muscle—any muscle—and bow out.

  What should have been a simple practical joke spiraled out of control because, how amazing was it that I was a successful surgeon and also doing bike races? At least, that’s what the nurses kept saying every so often when I left the safety of my office. It didn’t matter that Troy had been racing for the past fifteen years. Troy wasn’t known as the Dr. McSteamy of the group. So help me God, if one more nurse asked me if I could stitch myself up like they saw on Grey’s Anatomy, I was going to lose my fucking mind.

  My mouth still felt swollen. The only Benadryl in the office was in liquid form, and I chugged half the bottle. My allergic reaction was so severe that if I didn’t, I’d end up in the hospital.

  I was able to collapse against the couch in my office before I face-planted against the door—my dreams were filled with a certain woman, only she tasted like Benadryl, and when I told her I was sorry, she told me to go die.

  And then she started yelling at me in Chinese.

  The next thing I knew, I was eating chicken fried rice and ordered extra soy sauce, only to yell at myself, “Don’t eat it! Don’t eat it! You’ll die!”

  And that’s when it occurred to me.

  She knew about my allergy.

  I jolted awake.

  Just like she knew about my inability to ride a bike.

  And my irrational fear of frogs after being chased by one when I was seven.

  “Holy shit!” I pounded my fist against the leather couch as streams of late-afternoon sunlight filtered into my office. “She tried to kill me!”

  When I was actually able to form a more coherent sentence that didn’t include every curse word I knew, I called Lucas.

  But the bastard son of a bitch didn’t answer.

  Of course he didn’t answer! Because he’d probably already talked to Avery, who had clearly given all the shit she had on me to Austin.

  A sense of dread washed over me. Just how drunk did he get to confess all my secrets—at least the ones that he knew about—to Avery? The bastard was on a friendship time-out—that was for damn sure!

  “Dead,” I said to myself. “He’s dead.”

  A knock sounded at my door.

  I rubbed my eyes. “Yes?”

  The door opened, revealing the man of the hour himself. Lucas winced when he looked at my face and then he pointed. “Are those hives?”

  I hastily searched the area for a sharp or heavy object to throw at his mocking face and came up empty. “No,” I hissed, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “Adult acne.”

  “I heard Proactiv’s what the kids use these days. It may help,” he said with a smirk before taking the seat farthest from the couch.

  “I’m probably going to kill you,” I said cheerfully. “When I’m not high on Benadryl, and I can piss without passing out in the toilet.”

  Lucas made a disgusted face.

  “Are you here to apologize for helping Austin nearly commit homicide?”

  His guilty look said it all. “It’s a soy allergy. It’s not like you sucked off a soybean!”

  “No!” I stood. “You don’t get to be defensive! I almost died! And who the hell sucks off a soybean?”

  “People who like soy?” Lucas shrugged. “How the hell do I know? And what do you mean you almost died?”

  I took a deep breath and explained. “She kissed me—”

  “She kissed you?”

  I held up my hand. “Stay with me. She kissed me, and then my lips started swelling right along with my throat.”

  “Son of a bitch,” Lucas muttered. “The kiss of death.” He shuddered. “Kind of has a whole new meaning now, yeah?”

  The urge to slap him was strong.

  My hand twitched.

  He eyed my hand and then me. “Surgeon’s hands. You have surgeon’s hands, Thatch. You don’t want to punch me and be rendered incapable of performing. Besides, what would all those beautiful breasts do without you?” He stood. “They’d stay flat, and the world would cease to exist.” He made an exploding sound effect and threw his hands into the air in chaotic fashion.

  “No.” I shook my head. “Just . . .” I sat back down, still dizzy from the damn Benadryl. “The breasts will survive. I, however, would lose my damn mind. You know I need to work to keep myself sane.”

  It slipped.

  I hated admitting weakness. And that was one of them. I was a certifiable workaholic. Yes, I loved my job, but it was more than that. I felt like I had to prove myself to my father. To the man who basically threatened to disown me for going into plastics. I worked my ass off for a reason. And money wasn’t it.

  “One man’s work, another man’s play,” Lucas said in a speculative tone. I knew he was joking, but it still grated my nerves that his impression of my job was standing over a woman while I motorboated her new breasts.

  “Alright.” I clapped my hands together and ignored the lingering anger at him, my father, the situation, myself. “Lay it on me, what did you tell her? Because as of
right now, my mind is going into some really dark places. Scary places. Places where people with soy allergies go to die.”

  “Your mind’s in China?”

  “I’m too drugged for this.” I squeezed my eyes shut, then opened them. “So?”

  “Why did you break up with her?” His eyes narrowed, all traces of humor gone from his ugly mug. “The real reason. You know you can tell me, right?”

  My mind went back there.

  To that night.

  To what happened that day.

  To the opportunity Brooke had given me.

  The out she gave me.

  And the relief mixed with sadness I felt at Austin’s horror-struck expression.

  The absolute torture it was, to end things, when all I wanted to do was hold her in my arms and apologize and tell her the truth.

  All of it.

  But my dad’s words haunted me.

  And so I did the unthinkable.

  “I was done with her. Besides, aren’t you calling the kettle black? You literally had your hand in every honey pot imaginable, dated multiple women at the same time, got away with it because of that damn cleft in your chin, and made no apologies. So I kissed another girl while dating Austin. It’s not like I slept with her!” By the time I was done talking, my chest was heaving, and Lucas was giving me an unreadable expression. And then his lips curled into a smile. “What? What’s that look? I don’t like that look.” I got up and paced.

  “Everything,” he said in a smooth, confident voice. “Avery said I basically told her everything, but she did manage to write a few things down.” He pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket and dangled it in front of me. “I almost didn’t give this to you . . .” His smile vanished. “But you just changed my mind.”

  “Thank God.” I breathed out a sigh of relief and snatched the paper out of his hand, careful not to rip it as I unfolded it and straightened it against my desk, rolling out the heavy creases.