“Openly.” He shook his head. “What was it the last time? A tennis player?”

He was thinking about the man that’d come to town for a professional tennis tournament that she’d slept with. On the damn tennis court. Then was caught by paparazzi that were there to cover the show.

“That gets her fame and fortune.” I chuckled. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she was the one that told them where and when.”

Together we walked out of his room and downstairs, only to stop when we saw Ursula on the counter drinking out of the faucet that I knew wasn’t left on.

“So she likes fresh water, too,” I admitted.

He chuckled as he continued his path to the kitchen.

There, he ran his fingers down Ursula’s back, then turned to me. “You ready?”

Was I?

I nodded, even though I was a bit scared about what was to come.

Sareen was going to be there, and I had to play the part.

The part being…

“How thick are we laying it on?” I wondered aloud as I slipped into my shoes.

He watched me do this as he said, “As thick as it takes to make her understand I’m off limits. And you’re mine.”

I had no idea what that meant, but I was going to do whatever I had to do to make sure that Sareen was convinced.

Because, if I was being honest with myself, I was already half convinced that Easton was mine.

I just had to figure out how to let him know it.

“Okay.” I nodded once firmly. “Let’s do this.”

He stopped me at the edge of the door with his hand on my arm.

“Thanks for helping,” he grumbled under his breath. “You really do look beautiful, Banger. This dress…”

My heart swelled to a thousand times its regular size. “Thank you. And I’m glad that you and I match. It’s more convincing.”

He tilted his head, and that flush was back on his cheeks.

“To be truthful, I also somewhat waited so I could know what your dress looked like. I wanted to match you,” he explained. “You in that dress...”

“Let’s go,” I urged.

He caught my hand in his and helped me walk across the gravel driveway.

Right to his… bike.

The idiot.

CHAPTER 11

Drunk me and sober me aren’t friends.

-Banger to Easton

BANGER

Drunk me and sober me were two different people.

Sober me was cautious and watchful when it came to men.

Drunk me wasn’t. Drunk me was a hussy and thought Easton would be the perfect candidate to get back into the saddle with. Someone so inexperienced at sex couldn’t be over the top. Could they?

And I knew instantly with the way she was looking at Easton and Easton’s hand splayed on my belly that she was Sareen.

Easton kept talking as if Sareen hadn’t spoken.

“…the new area you’re in? I heard that you had some interesting news…” Easton was once again spoken over.

“You treat me like this, when you know we have a lot of fellow colleagues here?” Sareen hissed.

Easton finally stopped talking and turned, his eyes hard as he said, “Ms. French.”