Every Sweet Regret (Orchid Valley 2)

His grin slowly transforms his stoner stare into a face that could star in female fantasies all over the world. “My bed’s a king. There’s plenty of room.”

Laughing, I shake my head. “Dream on, my friend.”

“Oh, I will.” He winks at me, then heads down the bar.

Smithy’s offer to share his bed is still less creepy than Taylor’s offer to give me a discount on the rent, “Since I can tell you’re a sweet girl.” I shudder. I went back to Mom’s and showered after that one, but even the hottest water wasn’t enough to wipe the slime off.

I pull out my phone and nurse my drink as I scroll through social media. I want my girls to come join me and tell me everything’s going to be all right, but Brinley and Marston are spending the night in Atlanta, Savvy has a date with someone who’s not Alec, and Abbi said she’d be working late prepping food for tomorrow’s wedding at The Orchid.

I sit, stew, and wish I was in the right mindset to drink my feelings, but I’m not. When I can’t handle it anymore, I open Random and stare at Kace’s profile picture. It’s most likely because the messaging feature was never intended to be used extensively, but I wish they’d update it so I could see his picture and not just his username. I want to see his face when we chat.

After sitting on my hands all day, trying to resist the impulse to message him, I finally convince myself to stop being a coward. I’ve just sent, Hey there, sexy, why so quiet? when Smithy calls, “Kace!”

I instinctively jerk my head toward the entrance. Kace strolls toward me. He’s rocking his lumberjack-hottie look today—jeans faded from wear and not a designer, and a Georgia Tech T-shirt that stretches snugly across his chest, shoulders, and biceps. His jaw is covered with his usual dark stubble, and his hair is wet and combed back from his face like he just took a shower. All in all, he’s still the sexy motherfucker I’ve wanted since I was fifteen. Sexier, honestly. Fifteen-year-old me would’ve been totally unimpressed by the scruffy facial hair look, but twenty-seven-year-old me wants to climb him like a tree.

“Smith,” Kace replies with a nod. He leans over the bar, and he and Smithy do a weird handshake-knuckle-bump combo. Guys are so lucky. They get to be weirdos and it’s just cool, but it’d be laughable if two women greeted each other that way.

“Glad you’re here,” Smithy says. “Stella needs cheering up.”

Seven days ago, I would’ve made a smart-ass comment about how Kace has never been interested in cheering me up, but the surprising reality is he’s been the best part of my week.

But Kace frowns and turns to me like he’s on the case. “Why? What’s wrong?”

I shake my head and slide my phone back into my purse. “I’m fine. What brings you here?”

“Hope is with my mom, and I have a meeting. You didn’t answer my question. Why do you need cheering up?” He’s got that puffed-chest protective thing going on. As if he wants me to point him in the direction of the person who’s responsible for my mood so he can take a swing at them.

“Roommate hunting is . . . challenging.”

His eyebrows disappear into that sloppy mop of hair. “Roommate hunting? I thought you were moving into the pool house.”

“Just thinking of the future and hoping I don’t have to mooch off you for more than a month or so.” I shake my head. This is too embarrassing. I’m a grown woman and should have my shit together enough that I can afford a place of my own. Alas, student loan debt is my nemesis, and who can afford inflated rent prices when their monthly budget includes paying the equivalent of a hefty mortgage on their liberal arts degree? “I’ve been meeting up with people all week, but nothing’s worked out.”

Kace’s expression softens as he slides onto the stool next to me. He leans forward, and when he speaks, his voice is so low I can barely hear him. “I’m nervous about this too, okay? So if you’re worried about what happens when this”—his gaze drops to my mouth—“when this thing between us ends? You’re not alone. I’m kind of freaking out here.”

He just tore off a chunk of my heart. He’s worried what happens when it ends, and I’m worried that it’ll end at all. And that right there tells me all I need to know about where I stand with Kace. Not that it should come as a surprise.

“But we’re adults,” he says, his warm eyes sweeping over my face. “We can figure this out.”

“Is that why you haven’t messaged me today?”

His eyes flick up to meet mine and go wide. “I . . .” He shakes his head. “You wanted me to message you?”