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“Sutton, what’s wrong?” I ask. “Georgia, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. I swear to you that I didn’t know.” Every fiber in my body warns me of danger—to get up and flee from the scene of a crime I can’t identify. But before I can even question her regarding her apology, the door opens behind her. “Please,” Sutton pleads, her gaze holding mine. “Please believe me. I didn’t know.” “You didn’t know what?” I ask, my heart pounding so hard that I can hear my blood pulse through my ears. Goose bumps prickle my skin as I slowly turn to my left. No. No, no, no. “Georgia?” Ripley’s voice is a note too high. “What are you doing here?” I avoid his eyes and keep mine glued to Sutton. “Is this a sick joke?” “I’m so sorry.” My hands press against the cool stone table, and I shove away from it. I stand, wobbling for a split second on my heels, and send a bewildered look at my so-called best friend. “What is this?” I ask, my voice rising. “Why is he here?” Ripley steps into view. “Someone needs to explain.”

“Why don’t you go talk to your fan club and leave us alone?” I ask him. He pulls his attention to me. “Are you jealous? We’ll let you join. Don’t be mad.” “Oh, please.” “I love it when you beg.” His lips curve into a sardonic smile, and his eyes twinkle with mischief as he waits for me to explode. I lean forward, ignoring the notes of his stupid cologne, and meet his stare. I give him a little smile of my own. “Careful, Ripley. Your subconscious is slipping again.” “Is that what you think happened?” “Of course. But it’s okay. Just a little slip of the tongue.” The words are out before I can stop them. I flinch, knowing I just walked headfirst into a trap of my own making. “Now, whose subconscious is slipping?” he asks, teasing me. Darn it. “Can you please leave?” I ask, huffing my displeasure. “No. I’m meeting my brother Tate here in a few minutes. If you’re not happy here, you could leave.” “I’d hate to waste a perfectly good martini.” He reaches down and swipes my glass. Before I can protest, he downs the entire thing—never breaking eye contact with me. I bite back the string of profanity that’s primed on the tip of my tongue because that’s exactly what he wants. He wants me to lose control. It takes every ounce of self-restraint that I can muster to suppress my anger under an appearance of indifference. “Why are you such a ****?” I ask. Ripley leans down, close enough that I can smell th

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