She ought to be beside herself with grief, pain, and hurt. Instead she was pissed and embarrassed, especially since the social media poster who’d dubbed her the Kingston heiress was someone she’d dumped after two dates. He’d started his site after they’d broken up, and because his sense of humor was dry and he was good-looking, people gravitated to him, and he’d gone viral. Well, whatever. She didn’t care what anyone thought. She just didn’t want pity.
She could take a step back now and admit that she’d never reacted to Owen’s body the way she did to Beck’s. Never imagined getting sweaty between the sheets with her own fiancé. Sex between them was perfunctory at best. Definitely not mind-blowing or life-altering. And something told her that tangling with Beck would be all those things and more.
Catching herself thinking about Beck again, she shook her head and reminded herself they were acquaintances. He was doing her a favor, giving her a place to stay, and she ought to appreciate him for that. Besides, it wasn’t like he was ogling her body, which was too bad. But still, she needed to focus on herself and her future.
She and Beck were going to be roommates. Nothing more.
* * *
After indulging in a delicious breakfast of pure carbs that helped her hangover, Chloe took a long, hot shower. She lathered away yesterday’s mess and washed the hairspray out of her hair with the hotel-provided shampoo. She used their conditioner, as well, and somehow managed to finger comb her long strands before pulling them up with a hair tie into a messy bun.
Before she’d gotten into the shower, the hotel had sent her belongings from the bridal room upstairs, giving her the basics she’d brought with her yesterday along with the carry-on suitcase she’d left with the concierge for her overnight stay here.
She changed into the outfit she’d planned on wearing for the flight to Maui that wouldn’t be happening: a pair of taupe jersey-knit leggings, a matching fitted tank top, a cardigan, and her favorite snakeskin boots. She refused to think about the fact that she and Owen were supposed to be enjoying their honeymoon together. Somehow in the time since he’d texted her and now, her concerns were more about where she’d take her life from here and not about how sad she was over losing her future husband.
She already understood she’d had a lucky escape with Owen finding what everyone should look for in a partner. How and when he’d handled the breakup, however, was what upset her. She’d have to send back wedding and engagement gifts, and her mother would go through the ordeal of explaining the end of their engagement and non-wedding to people. Not to mention the money wasted. God, Owen was an ass, and Chloe wished she could sue him for the cost but knew she never would.
When she walked out of the bedroom, she found Beck on the phone, looking out the window at the Manhattan view below. He wore his clothes from last night, a pair of dark fitted jeans that molded to his incredible body, tight ass, and thighs and a light blue men’s dress shirt, untucked, on top.
“Still at the hotel,” he said into his cell. “That’s right.” He listened, then said, “None of your goddamned business, Tripp. Talk to you later.” He disconnected the call.
“Hey,” she said, joining him.
He turned. “Hey yourself. Feel better?” he asked.
She nodded. “More like myself.”
“Well, you look better, if you don’t mind my saying so.” His gaze skimmed the length of her body, obviously taking in and appreciating her curves if the glimmer in his eyes was anything to go by.
Her body reacted to his appraisal, her nipples tightening beneath her bra. She refused to glance down and see if it was noticeable.
She forced a smile at him. “I’m pretty sure the black mascara running down my cheeks wasn’t my finest moment.” Neither was how she’d unloaded all her emotional drama on him, but since he hadn’t brought it up again, neither would she.
He slid his hands into his front pants pockets and chuckled. “You deserved a good cry.”
“Which I apparently had.” She winced at the memories that had come back to her. “You went above and beyond for someone you don’t know, and I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it,” she said. Whatever had gone down with Linc, Chloe would always think Beck was a great guy.
“Ready to go check out your new digs?” he asked. “I live in a renovated loft downtown.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Oooh, sounds awesome.” She couldn’t wait to see it. “Are you one-hundred-percent certain you don’t mind the company?”
He strode over until they were close and dipped his head. “Your memories seem to have returned. You remember how I brought you here?”