Made for You (The Best Mistake 2)

Full of hope for something that had just disappeared.

Will shook the maudlin thought from his head as he wordlessly pushed her out of the way and easily lifted the cooler into the trunk before tossing his duffel on top.

“Ready?”

If she noticed his curt tone, she didn’t show it, and she merely nodded before climbing into the passenger seat as he locked up the house. The overcast skies of yesterday were long gone, and the sun was warm and bright on his face as he headed toward the car.

It was an absolutely perfect day for the beach picnic he’d planned, and he opened his mouth to coax her into it.

But then he caught her glance at her watch and give a little sigh. So no picnic, then.

Will resisted the urge to slap his fist on the roof of the car before he took a deep breath and slid behind the wheel. He’d known it would come to this, but that didn’t mean he had to like it.

Brynn made pleasant, inane conversation most of the drive home, but he couldn’t manage more than a few forced smiles and courtesy laughs at her carefully worded stories.

This was dinner-party Brynn. And he hated it.

Finally she ran out of meaningless things to say and they rode in strained silence for the last thirty minutes of the trip.

By the time he pulled into Brynn’s driveway, his knuckles were clenched around the steering wheel. He’d spent the entire drive trying not to bellow like a wounded bear at her lack of acknowledgment of what had happened

last night.

She was going to pretend that it hadn’t happened. That they hadn’t happened.

“You don’t have to see me in,” she said, putting a bright smile on her face.

His hand faltered briefly as he reached for her suitcase, half tempted to let her get the bag herself and scurry into the safety of her house where she could retreat behind nine-to-five and cardigans. Leaving him free to do…well, shit, he didn’t have the faintest idea.

Will yanked her bag out of the car with more force than necessary and waited patiently while she let him inside, both of them all polite manners as they were careful not to touch, not even in the most accidental of brushes.

It was only when he’d set her suitcase by the stairs and turned to face her that he saw a tiny break in her placid reserve. There was the briefest crumpling of her face, and he wanted to believe it was pain, regret, but then her expression went blank again and her spine stiffened with something else entirely.

Impatience.

She wanted him out of her house. Out of her life.

He forced himself to accept what he’d been suspecting the entire day.

He’d failed.

And it hurt.

Will allowed himself to meet her eyes—really meet them—for the first time since he’d woken up that morning and seen her with her suitcase.

“Just like that, then?” he asked.

“Will…”

He crossed his arms over his chest and gave her his best derisive, you don’t matter smile. “I get it, Princess. No room for unemployed boy toys in your real life, huh?”

Her mouth went stubborn. “It’s not like that.”

“No? What’s it like?”

Her silence spoke volumes.

When she finally opened her mouth, he already knew what was coming. “You knew this wouldn’t last. We both went into this eyes wide open, knowing it was a fling. Knowing that we’re horrible together.”