Every Little Thing (Hart's Boardwalk 2)

I scrubbed at my body, not wanting to smell or feel any traces of Vaughn Tremaine on my skin.

The sheets on the bed would have to be washed, too.

So much for wanting to smell his expensive cologne on them.

I didn’t want the reminder. The flashes of memory from last night were bad enough. I could still hear his voice in my head, his groans in my ear, the thrust of his hips against mine.

“We’re just from different worlds. We don’t fit.”

“I’m not my parents. I understand where my grandparents were coming from.”

I squeezed my eyes shut against his voice and scrubbed harder. It was just like last time all over again, not good enough for him, never good enough!

And just like last time I’d convinced myself that Vaughn actually cared about me. What an idiot. I hadn’t seen tenderness in his eyes as he moved in me. I’d seen smug satisfaction. He’d finally gotten one over on me. Bailey Hartwell was good enough for sex but not good enough for a relationship.

I wasn’t his kind of people. He was a total asshole commitment-phobe.

And I’d just gotten rid of one of those.

So I wasn’t going to fight Vaughn on this one; I wasn’t going to wear him down and make him see that there could be something special between us. Vaughn made me feel bad about myself and I hated him for it.

Finally I was ready to do better by myself again. Being burned in the same way twice made me a fool. But I wouldn’t be a fool again.

I had to say it and maybe if I said it, I would start to believe it.

“You deserve better than Vaughn Tremaine,” I said aloud as I stared into the mirror.

The door to the inn blew open during breakfast and like a gust of gale-force wind, Jessica and Cooper stormed inside. I strode out of the dining room and into the reception area. Jessica threw her arms around me and hugged me tight.

“Vaughn called. He told us what happened!”

“He what?” I squeaked.

“I’m going to kill the fucker,” Cooper snarled.

Oh, crap. Did Vaughn have a death wish? What was he thinking? “Look, it was nothing—”

“Stu Devlin breaking into your inn and attacking you is not nothing,” Jessica snapped as she pulled out of my hold. “Don’t pretend to be cool about this, Bailey. This was crossing the line. Again!”

Oh. Right. The break-in.

Vaughn had called Jessica and Cooper to inform them about the break-in.

I was unappreciative of the kind gesture. I didn’t need any kind gestures from him.

“You’re right,” I agreed. “It was crossing the line. I didn’t expect the asshole to attack me.”

Cooper’s face darkened.

“Calm down, Coop. Sheriff King is dealing with . . .” My voice trailed off as a deputy from the sheriff’s department walked into the inn right at that very moment.

And not just any deputy.

Deputy Freddie Jackson.

My least favorite deputy. Deputy Jackass, as I called him. Not just because he was a sneering, superior little shit, but because he happened to have grown up best buds with Kerr, the youngest Devlin son. The two of them thought they were owed respect from the moment they were born, and they’d acted like assholes from that moment, too.

Great.