Every Sweet Regret (Orchid Valley 2)

“Those girls like me? You’re right to believe they aren’t being honest with you, but you’re wrong about them wanting free drinks. You see, they’re trying to figure out if their date is a potential creeper before they go home with him, and since you can’t hide that shit in person, I bet you have a lot of experience with women backing out once they meet you face to face.”

He pulls back. “What the fuck do you know, cheap porno bitch?”

“I know they call girls like me bitches when we decide guys like you aren’t entitled to our bodies. The only difference between them and me is that I don’t care if you call me a bitch, and I wouldn’t let you buy me a drink even if being roofied sounded like a good time. You give all the bad vibes, Jared—starting with lying about your age. Do yourself a favor before you use any hookup or dating app again: learn how to treat a woman. Until then, leave.”

His chair screeches as he pushes it away from the table and jumps out of it. “I wouldn’t stick my dick in your diseased cunt if you paid me.”

“What’d you say to her?”

Jared spins around and finds his face inches from Kace Matthews’ broad chest.

I shrink into my chair and scan the room for a rock to crawl under. I didn’t mean for Kace to run over here and play hero. For once, I wish he were still focused on his undeserving ex just so that judgmental gaze wasn’t cast in my direction.

Hello there, disapproving Adonis. Yes, I’m still the hot-mess Stella you know and love, and here’s the proof, since you think you need to rescue me from this hellish non-date.

Jared stumbles back a step, and Kace moves closer.

“If I ever hear you talk to Stella or any woman like that ever again—”

“Whatever, man. I’m outta here.” Jared scrambles away and out the door, and I’m sure he can feel the burn of Kace’s angry gaze with every step.

Only when Jared disappears from view does Kace turn back to me, eyes worried and jaw tense beneath his beard. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.” I’m not fine. I’m exhausted. I’m sick of attracting all the creeps and falling for all the assholes. Because I do. Every time, with the lone exception of Kace, who I’ve wanted for as long as I can remember and who’s never been even the slightest bit interested in me in return. I’m lonely, and I miss sex.

“Where do you find these assholes?”

“There’s a secret catalogue,” I say, flipping my hair over one shoulder. “I usually pick the ones with the biggest muscles and hope they won’t ruin my fun by talking.”

Kace ignores my sass and glares at the window, as if daring Jared to reappear. “It’s like you want to be treated badly or something.”

“Whoa. Way to victim-blame, Kace.”

His gaze snaps back to mine. “I’m not blaming you. I’m pointing out a pattern of behavior.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were my therapist. Sit down so I can tell you all about my sex addiction and the trouble it gets me into.”

His jaw unhinges, and he draws in a sharp breath before snapping it shut again. “I . . . Shit, I didn’t realize you had a . . .” He clears his throat.

“It was a joke.” But a badly chosen one, because “sex addict” probably fits right into the little box Kace has me in. I’m pretty sure said box is labeled Irresponsible Party Girl. That’s me.

He draws his mouth into a thin line of disapproval. “Well, I wasn’t joking about your patterns.” He shoves his hands into his pockets. “What would’ve happened if he’d taken you home?”

As if. I might date jerks, but Jared never stood a chance. My pattern shows I prefer the guys who reel you in and get you attached before they let their jerk flag fly. Jared never stood a chance. I sigh. “I had it under control.”

I think he’s about to give me a lecture, so I’m relieved when my friend Abbi appears at my table and waves at her brother. “Hey, Kace.”

“Hey, Abs.” He returns her smile, but it’s tight, and when his gaze drifts back to me, disapproval is written all over his face. He shakes his head, already retreating. “Just . . . be careful. Okay?”

I want to reach for him. Don’t go. Stay. Sit down and remind me there are good guys in this world.

But I don’t say a word. I sink back in my chair and let him walk back to the bar. For a beat, I let myself imagine what it’d be like to be the recipient of one of his broad grins. What would it be like to be the object of Kace Matthews’ affection? What would it be like to have him flirt with me? There’s a very small club of women who’ve experienced those things, and I’ll never be part of it. I’ve made my peace with that. Mostly.