Kiss Me Not (Kiss Me 1)

Yes, I was jaded. At least that was what my thrice-married mother would tell you. I was more of the view that I was realistic with a dash of pessimist.

The only time I was optimistic was when I was opening a bottle of wine. There was a whole of optimism to be found at the bottom of one of those babies.

I didn’t actually care that Preston would be kissing other women.

I needed to say that. Loud and proud—but not so loud that he could hear me and get the wrong idea. Well, the right idea. But the wrong one at the same time.

I didn’t care. Honestly, I didn’t.

The lady doth protest too much and all that bullshit.

I digress.

I didn’t care.

If I said it a lot, did that make it truer?

Probably not. That wasn’t how it worked.

But still—I didn’t care. The idea that he was going to do it just feet from me on the other side of a curtain wasn’t a desirable situation, but I could handle it.

I was a librarian. I lived and breathed books. Those damn things had some situations in them, you know? If I could handle some fictional people ripping out my heart, I could handle this.

That’s what I was going to tell myself.

I turned my head and found both Reagan and Ava’s eyes on me. “What?”

“Did you know you’ve been staring a hole in Preston’s back since he turned around?” Reagan asked, a smile tugging at her lips.

Ava grabbed Reagan’s insulated wine bottle and unscrewed the cap. “It’s not that surprising, is it? She’s had a crush on him forever. Now she gets to listen to him playing catch with a bunch of other women’s lips.”

“Do we have to discuss this right now?” I said.

“Yeah, Ava,” Reagan continued. “It’s tough enough for Halley. She knows she’s going to lose this year. Give her a break.”

“Is there no support for the underdog these days?”

“Yes, Reagan was supporting the underdog, but now we’ve switched.” Ava swigged from the wine bottle. “My money is on you, Hals, but let’s be honest—you don’t stand a chance against Preston and his band of merry bitches.”

Reagan sniffed. “They’re not all bitches.”

“Isn’t Lindsay Rinna trying to get in with him?”

I snorted. “She’s a bitch.”

“One snake, Halley,” Reagan pointed out.

“Yes, and it was one snake too many.” I pushed away my plate of food. I wasn’t hungry anymore. “It doesn’t matter. I’m under no illusions about my lack of a relationship with Preston. We barely even get along, never mind anything else. My crush is just that—a crush. I’m attracted to him. That’s all it’s ever been and all it ever will be. Now, can we drop it?”

Ava and Reagan shared a look that said they would drop it.

For tonight.

CHAPTER THREE – HALLEY

Harems and Hostility

“Halley!” Stephen, my future stepdad, took a big step toward me and wrapped me in a bear hug.

To be honest, he was the only one of my mother’s partners I’d ever liked. Except for my own dad, of course. As it was, Stephen would be her fourth husband unless they fucked it all up before that.

It was an option. The woman had been engaged six times, married three, and God only knew how many relationships.

She was a serial dater, a serial bride, and she could advocate her own divorces at this point, never mind anyone else’s.

She probably earned a commission from her lawyer for referrals.

“Hey.” I returned Stephen’s hug. “Is Mom here?”

“No, she’s at the town hall. Something about fireworks.”

I rolled my eyes as their German Shepherd, Zeus, came bounding out and almost knocked me on my ass on the porch. “Hey, buddy.” I ruffled his fluffy neck and let him lavish me with attention.

He was the only male doing it, okay? A girl had to take her kicks where she could get them.

He finally calmed down, trotting into the front yard to his favorite bush to do his business.

“What do you need?” Stephen asked, motioning for me to follow him inside.

“She has the ropes for the booth. She told me she’d bring them by this morning.”

“Ah—of course. And she forgot. They’re in the garage.” He stopped in the hall and grabbed a keychain from the hooks on the wall. “You got your car?”

“Nah, I thought I’d toss them over my shoulder and walk them across town.”

He laughed. “I’ll load them into your trunk. Are you okay setting them up? The posts are pretty heavy.”

“I know. I’m the one who sets them up.” I grinned and moved to open the garage door. I heaved it up and over my head with it creaking as it moved. The garage flooded with light, and the dirty, old gold posts glinted in the sunlight.

“How do they get so filthy sitting in a garage?” Stephen mused, looking at one.

“I have no idea. They’re just plated.”