Hurting? Yeah, I was hurting. But not so much about Coop, which was probably what he thought.
“Whatever you think of me and my track record with women, I’d never do you like that.”
Well, that made me soften.
“I know that,” I said.
I did kinda know. Was really nice to know it for sure, though.
“Anyway,” he added, “I don’t fuck women who’ve been drinking.”
He looked so fucking serious I almost held back the laugh. “Right. Smoke pot much?”
“Totally different. Doesn’t bother me the same.”
“Bother?”
That’s what we were calling it?
I’d seen the man drunk, pretty much constantly, for the first few months I knew him, and bother didn’t even begin to touch the state he got into after a few.
“It’s hard to explain,” he said, breaking eye contact. “Temptation isn’t the right word, but since I don’t have a better one… booze and women together… that’s a temptation I just can’t hack.”
Shit.
Shit.
My incredulous laughter died as I suddenly sobered. And now I felt even worse for jumping on him… and shoving my pickled tongue down his throat.
Okay, not like I was drunk or anything, but still.
It wasn’t as if I knew when I drank that vodka that Zane was gonna show up and cockblock Coop, much less that I was gonna throw myself at him and attack his face. If I’d known that, I would’ve left the booze alone.
But still.
It was extremely impressive that Zane hadn’t taken a drink in almost six years, especially when you considered the world in which he lived, and I was proud of him for that, but we both knew those six hard-fought years of sobriety could come screaming to an end with a single sip. Which was why I wasn’t letting him off that easy, either.
“No? How about women who snort coke off the kitchen counter?”
He stared at me, unfazed. “I got rid of them, Maggie. What more do you want me to say? If I knew you were here, I wouldn’t have brought them up.” It was decent of him to say, and I knew he meant it.
And therein lay the most dangerous thing about Zane Traynor.
That being, that I was just masochistic enough to care about his ass, which made him and everything he did a threat to my well-being… especially when he looked at me like he was doing right now; like he cared about me, even more than he cared about getting laid. And Zane cared about getting laid a lot.
“Look, we can’t have shit between us, Maggs. So let’s just get this out.” He took a final hit off his joint and mashed out the little roach in one of the big tacky planters shaped like a smiling sun. “Take your fucking sunglasses off.”
I took them off, casually, like I’d been meaning to do it anyway. Actually, I’d forgotten I was wearing them.
It wasn’t as dark out on the patio as I thought. The twinkly lights dangling along the walls really lit it up. It was kinda magical, really.
Romantic.
Too bad I wasn’t gonna get to enjoy it like that.
“Didn’t mean to push you away, Maggie,” he said, his tone soft and sincere. “Really fucking sorry about that.” He stared at me a long, long moment, unflinching, his cool blue eyes burning into mine. “You feel me on that?”
“Yeah, Zane,” I said softly. “I feel you.”
Maybe a little too much.
Chapter Four
Maggie
“So, you ever gonna tell me why we’re shacking up tonight?”
Zane was still staring at me and I was staring right back, as he asked the one question I was really hoping he wouldn’t ask.
Did he actually think I wanted to share this ridiculous hotel suite with him?
Yeah, not so much. Zane and I sharing a hotel suite could only end in disaster. Maybe I didn’t picture him cockblocking my hookup and spitting on my floor, but Zane and I had never shared walls before. I’d always been really, really careful about that.
Because when Zane and I got alone in a room—which was not often—he got crazy and I got… weak. As in, my tough girl, smart girl self dove right out the window and my resistance to his diabolical charms got low.
Like dangerous low.
I’d just never let him glimpse how low before tonight.
And now the damage was done.
I’d kissed him, I’d lost my cool, and there was no taking it back. Really, all I could do now was try to salvage what was left of my dignity by making it clear I didn’t plan for that to happen. It just wasn’t gonna be easy or without any pain.
So I took a deep breath and accepted the fact that I wasn’t getting out of this conversation. If Zane wanted to have it, we’d have it. Tonight, tomorrow, for the rest of the fucking year if that’s how long it took for him to get it out of me.
Might as well rip off the bandage and begin the slow bleed.
“Because things got messed up,” I started to explain, wondering how much I could edit out and still satisfy him. “We weren’t supposed to share a suite. No one was. Except Jesse and Elle, but you know how that goes.”
He grunted, and I knew he did.
“About two seconds after I saw you in the lobby, I ran into Elle,” I said. “She looked upset, so I tried to help.”
“Big fucking mistake.”
“Yeah. But not exactly my job to walk away.” Seriously. Elle had tears in her eyes when I’d seen her, and that was rare. “She said she and Jesse had a fight and we needed to get him his own room. Didn’t really sound like a kiss-and-make-up situation. Which would’ve been fine, except the hotel’s fully booked, so I couldn’t even get us an extra room. The ones we have were booked months ago.” Not that that was my problem, exactly. The tour coordinator usually handled such things, but since the rooms were booked through my dad, I insisted on handling it myself.
Last thing
