Taming Her Bad Boy

He shuffles off. I steal the chance to duck my head down and whisper, “What’s wrong?”

Vienna turns and looks up at me like I’ve grown two heads. “Two and a half hours of my smile screwed on, repeating the same things over and over again while wearing very, very uncomfortable shoes. That’s what’s wrong.”

“Kick your shoes off.” I keep my arm securely around her waist. “No one will even notice.”

“You’re missing the point.”

“And you’re looking downright miserable.”

Vienna has never been one to say anything negative, or even put on anything but a happy face. So, while her lackluster reaction to this party might, in fact, not be that noticeable to anyone else, to someone like me who knows her better than she knows herself, she may as well be wearing a neon sign that says she’s in a foul mood.

“I’m just not—”

“Hey, Cohen,” a voice says from behind me. We both turn, and I swear, you could pick my jaw up off the floor. I’m literally speechless.

“Oh, and hey, Vienna. So

rry, I didn’t see you there.”

Jesus, I hadn’t even got a formal introduction out and she’s already made a dismissive comment toward my fiancée. “Liz, hey. I didn’t know you were here.”

My ex-wife grins sweetly—far too sweetly—and shrugs her shoulders. “The rest of the town is here. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Maybe because you’re my ex-wife? Or because our divorce was messy as hell? Or, maybe, just maybe, because you blamed our divorce on my feelings for Vienna, even though Vienna was thousands of miles away in New York? “Just didn’t expect it, that’s all,” I choose to say instead, trying to keep things civil. “I’m not sure you’ve met Vienna.” I pull her as close to me as possible and turn so that Vi is facing Liz. “Liz, this is my fiancée, Vienna Anderson. Vi, this is Liz Calley, my—”

“The ex-wife,” Liz blurts out, holding out her hand, still maintaining that wicked smile. “May as well just get it out in the open now. Although, Vienna, I must say, I feel like I already know you, since I’ve heard so much about you.”

Another veiled insult.

But maybe I’ll get lucky and Vienna won’t pick up on it.

I steal a glance down at her pretty features.

Nope, she’s definitely picked up on it.

“Funny,” she replies, shaking the black-haired woman’s hand stiffly. “Can’t say the same about you.”

Vienna’s tone, mocking with a dark undertone of don’t fuck with me, signals exactly what I don’t want happening—the claws are ready to come out. Vienna knows about Liz, and knows that we parted because of the feelings I’ve always harbored for her. But she doesn’t seem to care about what she does and doesn’t know right now. Or that people are starting to notice that my ex and my fiancée are meeting, and they’re intrigued enough to stare unabashedly.

Liz takes the snippy comment in stride, pulling her hand away only after Vienna pulls away first. “That doesn’t surprise me, actually. Seeing as Cohen always had a tendency to talk about you more than me.”

“Liz, what the hell—” I hiss under my breath, but Vienna doesn’t even seem to notice.

“That’s why you came here?” she snaps, much louder than I am speaking. “To confirm that he’s always loved me more than you? Well, hell, Liz, thanks for pointing out the obvious. Now, get out.”

I’m not saying it’s not warranted, but I’m shocked by my fiancée’s outburst.

Liz, however, seems to find this amusing, and her eyes grow wide. “Wow.” She turns toward me. “Tell me, Cohen, was it this kind of charm and grace that made you yearn for her all those years? Because, I must say, if it was, I don’t get it.”

Vienna takes a step forward. Though I’m unsure what exactly she plans to do, I reach out and hold her back, keeping her arms—and her claws—far away from Liz Calley.

“I told you to get the fuck out of here,” Vienna barks out. A series of gasps from onlookers erupt. The residents of Garrison are just like me in the sense that they’ve rarely, if ever, heard a curse word pass Vienna Anderson’s pouty lips.

I pull her back against me. “Jesus Christ, Liz, just go, will you?” I whisper loudly, despite the fact that everyone can see and hear me. “Thanks for stopping by, but I’m not sure what you wanted to accomplish by coming here today.”

Liz gives me a long, blazing look—one of the glares that evokes so much heat and ice together that you’re not sure whether to be scared of the hot fury or petrified enough to have shivers run up your spine—then smiles a vindictive grin before muttering, “Oh yeah, and congratulations,” and turning on her boot-clad heel and walking out of the community centre.

I make sure the doors are completely closed before I spin Vienna around in my arms and narrow my eyes. “What was that all about?” I whisper bluntly. I can’t bring myself to glance around us at the onlookers, but I can feel their heavy gazes boring into us.