I’d already dropped Liddy at daycare and was sitting at the island, nursing a cup of coffee and reading a book on my Kindle, when Garrett came shuffling into the kitchen. I chanced a quick peek through my lashes, hoping his imbibing from the night before showed on his face. No such luck. Whereas anyone else that hungover would look like death warmed up and run over a few times, that bastard still looked good.

As a matter of fact, he looked better than normal. But that might have had something to do with the bare chest and loose sweatpants that hung seductively off his hips… or the way he had his long, shower-dampened hair pulled back in a messy man-bun at the back of his head… or the sexy stubble that lined his jaw and cheeks. He looked like a goddamned rock god with all those tattoos on perfect display, and I wanted to punch him in his too-handsome face.

“Fuck,” he grunted as he moved toward the barstool next to me and plopped down. Well, at least he sounded like he was in pain. That was something. “My head feels like a goddamn axe is splitting it. Rosy, sweetheart, get me the Advil, would you? And a cup of coffee while you’re at it.”

I watched with avid interest from the corner of my eye as Rosita kept her place at the stove with her back to us and said not one word. That was interesting. Usually she was all smiles and mother-hen-style doting when it came to Garrett.

“Rosita,” he called again. “Did you hear me?”

“You want it, you get it yourself,” she replied, swinging her spatula around without turning to face us.

It took every ounce of self-control I had not to burst into laughter. Looks like someone had a chat with Sylvie this morning.

I kept my gaze trained on my Kindle as he stood and moved to the fridge, pulling out a bottle of water. He chugged half before using the rest to down four painkillers. Rosita began muttering quietly in rapid-fire Spanish as she continued cooking. I wasn’t a hundred percent certain what she was saying, but there were a few words—such as bastardo and pendejo—that I recognized. And judging from the way Garrett’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head when he looked at her, he understood them too.

“The fuck?” he mumbled under his breath as he went to toss the empty water bottle in the trash. I was too focused on not cracking up at Rosita telling her boss off that I didn’t notice the way Garrett’s entire body locked up when he lifted the lid on the trash can, or the way he froze in place as he stared down at the contents.

That was until I heard him let out a violent curse. My head shot up at the same time Rosita set the spatula down and moved casually toward the garbage. “Whoops. Forgot to take the trash out this morning. I’ll just do that now,” she said, not sounding the least bit sorry as she shot a catty look in Garrett’s direction. She whistled as she tied off the bag that contained everything I’d cooked the night before and carried it out of the kitchen.

She’d wanted him to see exactly how badly he’d screwed up and make her displeasure at his actions known. I appreciated the solidarity, but I would have just rather forgotten about the disastrous evening altogether. The anger and pain was like a fresh cut that hadn’t had time to scab over.

“Gwen,” Garrett started.

I kept my head down, refusing to face him. “Hmm?”

“Gwen.”

“What, Garrett?” I asked, tapping the screen of my Kindle to turn the page even though I hadn’t read a single word on the one prior.

His voice sounded closer when he asked, “Will you look at me, please?”

With a frustrated huff to cover up the fact that I was hurting, I gave him my eyes. That was a mistake, because the raw regret shining back damn near ripped me in two and splintered my resolve.

“I’m sorry,” he offered quietly.

I did my best to fake bravado and shrugged, looking back at my Kindle as I replied, “Whatever. It’s not a big deal.”

The words before me blurred quickly as the Kindle was slid out of my eyeline. “It is a big deal,” he stressed, placing his fingers at my cheek and forcing me to look at him. “I’m sorry. Last night was—”

I hopped off the stool and circled the island to refill my coffee cup, putting some necessary distance between us. “It’s not my business what last night was.”

“Nothing happened.”

I lifted my head from my mug and met his gaze, looking for any signs of deception. There were none to be seen, but my heart wouldn’t trust it while my brain reminded me that Garrett Wilder was a skilled liar and womanizer. “Like I said, not my business. What you do with your free time has nothing to do with me. I couldn’t care less.”

His face turned to granite, his expression like thunder. “That why you trashed everything instead of packing it away?”

My defenses began to rise once again. I couldn’t stand that this man was capable of triggering such an emotional reaction in me. The red flags and warning signs were everywhere, screaming that he was dangerous to my well-being and sanity, but I just couldn’t think rationally when it came to him. I wanted him. I hated him. It was like a war was raging inside of me, and I could do nothing but sit helplessly and wait to see which side came out victorious.

“What do you want me to say, huh?” I shouted, slamming my coffee cup on the counter. Liquid spilled over the rim, leaving a puddle that dripped onto the floor, but I couldn’t find it in me to care about the mess I was making. “I wanted to make things right between us. That’s what last night was about. We’ve been walking around on eggshells around each other for weeks, and I’m tired of it. Dinner was my way of trying to apologize because I want to make this work. I don’t want us to fight or act like the other doesn’t exist.” I ran my hands through my hair as exasperation took hold, squeezing my chest. “I don’t want to hate you anymore,” I sighed tiredly. “But it doesn’t matter now. It’s done. Last night wasn’t the first time you showed up reeking of booze and women. Sadly, I’m used to it.”

He moved faster than a man with a hangover had any business moving. I barely had the chance to reinforce my shield before he was cupping both my cheeks in his huge hands. “I swear, baby. Nothing happened. People just started showing up. I didn’t know Mace was gonna throw a party. I didn’t fuckin’ touch anyone. I drank too much and a couple skanks rubbed up on me, but that’s it. I swear.”

I wanted to believe him. God, I wanted to so badly, especially when he looked at me and touched me with such sincerity. But a small, nagging voice in the back of my brain wouldn’t shut up. “Garrett, I—”

“Let me make it up to you,” he interrupted, catching me off guard.

“What?”

“I want to make it up to you. You worked so hard, and I fucked it all up because I was pissed off. I want to make it right.”

My phone pinged with a text from inside my purse sitting on the island. “I have to go,” I stated, picking up my bag and hooking it over my shoulder. “That’s Corrine. She’s picking me up to go shopping.”

His hand wrapped around my elbow, swinging me back around. “I’m serious, Gwen. I can make this better. I want to make this better.”

“I don’t know…,” I hesitated, wavering.

“Please,” he asked earnestly, the rough pads of his fingers pressing deeper into my skin.

I let out a breath and closed my eyes for just a moment before answering. “Let me think about it, okay?”

He took a step back and let me go, but despite the motion, the expression on his face was like he’d just won the lottery. “Okay. Think about it. I’ll wait.”

I nodded stupidly and started out of the kitchen. I needed to get out of there before my resolve crumbled completely.

* * *

“What a dick!” Corrine shouted, embarrassingly loud.

I looked around the restaurant we’d stopped at for lunch before hitting up the mall. “Jeez, woman. Do you have an inside voice at all?”

“Sorry,” she whispered, leaning in so the rest of the diners couldn’t overhear our conversation. “So you went out of your way, making Mama Lydia’s famous country fried steak and Dutch apple pie, and that prick just… what? Forgot?”

“I guess.” I shrugged, sipping my water through the clear straw. “I didn’t ask for details, you know? Last thing I wanted to hear was that he hooked up with a random chick while I was sitting around like an idiot waiting for him. It was bad enough that he was so hammered Ian had to drive him home in the middle of the night.”

Corrie stabbed at her salad with a thoughtful look on her face. “I wondered where he went last night.”

I paused, my own fork hanging midair with the pasta I was just about to shove in my mouth. “What?”

Her eyes went wide with shock. “Shit. Did I say that out loud?”

“Oh my God!” I squealed. “You and Ian?” It was her turn to shush me. “When? How?” I asked in a quieter voice, mimicking her position and leaning forward with my elbows on the table.

A blush bloomed across the apples of her cheeks, and her lips curved up into a smile so big she’d put the Joker to shame. “It started after the band got home from their tour. You know, the night we went over?” I nodded, eager to hear how it happened. Corrine was my best friend in the entire world, and I thought Ian was amazing. A love match between them would be awesome. “When Garrett kicked us all out of his studio, the guys joined the party, but I wasn’t feeling it. I was standing by myself and he just came up and started talking to me.”

“And it’s good?” I queried. A renewed sense of hope for my friend’s love life overshadowed the drama going on in mine. It was a much-needed break.

“It’s great,” she responded, giddy with excitement. “We’ve seen each other every night since.” Her voice lowered conspiratorially. “And girl! Let me just tell you, the sex is out. Of. This. World! He’s not just a giant in stature—”

“Whoa!” I reached across the table and slapped my hand over her mouth. “I’m happy for you, honey, but I do not need to know that kind of stuff about Ian. I’ll never be able to look at him without—” I waved my hands in front of me frantically. “—picturing it.”

She burst into a fit of laughter that lasted for several seconds before she was able to talk again. “Anyway, he was over at my place last night when he got a call and left. Only thing that annoys the shit out of me is the fact that he doesn’t talk about work. Like at all. He’s suspiciously tightlipped when it comes to what he does for that damn band.”

My stomach clenched and dropped to the floor. “He said there were women there, but that he didn’t do anything. Do you think… do you think he was lying?”

The happiness on her face quickly drained away, replaced by concern. “Ian wouldn’t tell me even if he was. But that doesn’t mean there isn’t a way for us to find out.” She pulled her phone from her bag and started tapping on the screen. “Let’s google the son of a bitch and find out.”

The war inside of me raged on and a knot formed in my throat, making it impossible for me to tell her to stop. Seconds felt like forever as I held my breath and waited. Finally, Corrine’s face fell for a moment before pure rage took over. “That motherfucker,” she hissed.

I snatched the phone from her hand. TMZ had posted picture after picture of a woman straddling Garrett’s lap, her tongue so far down his throat it was a wonder he hadn’t choked on it.

The bastard.

I knew better than to let anything he did affect me, but common sense had flown right out the window. My chest physically ached. I inhaled shallowly and closed the browser, handing the phone back to Corrie. “I’m so stupid,” I said on a whisper.

Her hand shot across the table and grabbed mine. “You’re not,” she replied vehemently. “You’re not stupid for wanting to think the best of him.” I blew out a short puff of air and tried my hardest to shake off the disappointment coating my skin. “You know what you need?” she asked, adopting an upbeat tone. “You need to date. It’ll get you out of this funk and get your mind off baby daddy.”

I paused for a beat, allowing her suggestion to sink in. Maybe she was on to something. And Steve had been texting regularly, asking me out ever since Liddy’s playdate. But with moving and everything else, I’d put him off, thinking it wasn’t a good time.

Well, things had just changed. I gave my friend a determined nod and pulled my phone out. I was going to go on a date, and I was going to have fun, damn it. Even if it was the last thing I did.