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Anger swiftly replaced the hurt as I gripped her soft fingers, careful not to hurt the tender skin that was still healing. “Had I known you’d be embarrassed to hold my hand, I would have let my brother do the honors. After all, we have the same taste—”

I barely had the words out when I suddenly tripped.

Keaton smiled through her clenched teeth. “Don’t insult me, it’s beneath you.”

“Did you just trip me?”

“Yup.” She popped the p as we walked into the Great Hall. Dark purple lighting made it hard to see. It didn’t help that the centerpiece of each table had a water feature at least three feet tall. Izzy had clearly spent a fortune, and I was still so mad I could barely register how nice of a gesture it was.

I wanted to leave and lick my wounds in private. “So, Rob seems nice.”

Keaton was still holding onto my hand. “He’s a good man.”

“Great,” I muttered.

“Something wrong?”

“No,” I said in a clipped voice, reaching for a glass of champagne and wishing I was already drunk off my ass. “Everything’s great.”

“Liar.” She reached for a glass and faced me. “Been busy?”

“Small talk?” I snorted out a laugh. “Really?”

Her face paled a bit, and I know I didn’t imagine the guilt that replaced it as she looked everywhere but my eyes.

I shook my head and leaned in. “Don’t, not with me. I’m not one of your fans, Keaton, I’m not someone you need to be fake with. I get it, you don’t want people to assume you’re with me, fine. I imagine my father’s smear campaign did a stellar job of scaring you away from me. I don’t even want to think what you’d see if you did a Google search on me, but could you at least for my sake, on my birthday, do one thing?”

Her eyes locked onto mine. “I didn’t do a Google search.”

I sighed. “One thing, I want one thing for my birthday.”

“What?” “I want you to pretend that I’m good enough to kiss you, good enough to touch you, I want you to lie to me and tell me it’s just the beginning, that you don’t care about my reputation, that you’d go home with me in a heartbeat because you can’t imagine being anywhere else. Can you do that?” I checked my watch. “For one hour. I just want one hour where—” I stopped myself.

“Where what?”

“Would you believe me if I told you that you’re the eye of my storm? The calmest part of my life when everything around me is chaos?” I set down my champagne at a table as more people filtered into the party.

Keaton reached for my hand again and held it tight. “Rob’s my publicist.”

“I didn’t ask.”

“You didn’t have to.” She dragged me toward the dance floor and then placed both hands on my shoulders. “I could see the jealousy in your eyes and the smoke coming out of your ears.”

I glared. “I wasn’t jealous.”

“Oh?”

“I was just silently communicating with the universe and letting it know that if Rob were to fall down the stairs and break his leg I wouldn’t be mad.”

She threw her head back, laughing, and blurted, “I missed you.”

I went completely still. It was on the tip of my tongue to say “I missed you too,” but her rejection was still too raw. And this insane feeling in my chest kept telling me there was more, that it wasn’t just an accident, it wasn’t a one-night stand.

She sobered and looked down. “My hands feel better.”

I twirled her and pulled her against my aching chest. I’d been born to pretend like nothing affected me. I’d always had the upper hand—until Keaton. “Good.”

“The doctor said that you did a good job treating them.”

I couldn’t look away from her blue eyes. I wanted to kiss her so bad that it was physically painful to be that close to her.

She licked her bottom lip, tempting the hell out of me.

I groaned and looked away. My body was reacting violently to the closeness. I was thankful it was dark because I was ready to pound nails into the nearest statue and have a mental breakdown in the process.

I was so focused on holding it together that when someone bumped into Keaton, forcing her to press her entire body against mine, I didn’t think, I just grabbed her and held on tight.

Her eyes widened a fraction of an inch. She swallowed slowly, like she was trying to process the fact that I was so incredibly aroused it was embarrassing.

For both of us.

Instead of jerking away, though, she leaned up on her tiptoes and whispered in my ear, “It’s not my birthday, and yet I still get a present?”

I let out a low growl and gritted my teeth. “Don’t tease me.”

She shimmied against me. “Oh, and I’m the tease?”


Tags: Rachel Van Dyken Covet Romance