The Little Black Dress (Love in Las Vegas)

My back stiffens, and I actually fall back a step under the weight of the accusation in his voice.

“What, exactly, are you accusing me of?” I gasp, my eyes wide and burning.

“Did you get close to me––fuck me––to get this painting for Stephen Hatfield?” he asks, his tone dark and threatening.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I shout, my resolve to keep this discussion discreet flying right out the window.

“Jared.”

We both turn to see Bethany standing behind me, a casserole dish gripped between hands covered in thick oven mitts. She’s staring at her son, disappointment etched in every line of her beautiful face.

My eyes start to burn, but I’ll be damned if Jared Hart is going to see me cry. “Where’s the bathroom?”

Bethany looks at me with sorrowful eyes, jerking her head to the left. “Second door on the right.”

I hurry around the corner, my unshed tears blurring my vision as my heels tap against the tile floors. Bypassing the powder room, I head straight for the front door. Easing it open, I step outside into the balmy evening air and close it softly behind me. I rush down the driveway, pulling my phone from my clutch as I go.

Hastily wiping my eyes, I pull up the app to hire a car and tap the icon to turn on my location services. I have no idea where I am, and there’s no way I’m going back in there to ask Bethany for her address.

And I may never speak to Jared Hart again.

As if my thoughts conjured him, I hear his voice call my name. I’m already hidden behind a large, leafy hedge that lines the sidewalk in front of a neighbor’s house, so I know he can’t see me. An SUV pulls up beside me, and the passenger window rolls down.

“Sophie?”

“That was fast,” I say, nodding as I move toward the rear door.

“I was right around the corner,” the driver says, jerking his head over his shoulder.

“Sophie, wait! Please!”

I look to see Jared stepping into the road from his mom’s driveway. I quickly climb into the backseat and slam the door, asking the driver to hurry. He nods and takes off, and it takes every ounce of my willpower not to look over my shoulder at Jared.

I need to go home and decide what I’m going to do from here.

And I need to burn this damn dress. For real this time.