The Best of Winter Renshaw - An 8 Book Collection - Winter Renshaw Page 0,668

“What do you guys do again?”

“We work in renewable energy,” Sascha says, looking directly at me. There’s a hint of an exotic accent in his voice, Eastern European, perhaps. And he speaks with careful intention, the syllables rolling off his tongue. “What is it you do, Love?”

“I’m in the process of opening a women’s center in Brooklyn,” I say, taking a seat in my lounger.

His eyes track my every move and his full mouth curls at one side. “That’s incredible. What made you want to do that?”

He asks all the questions I don’t feel like answering, but I answer them as best I can anyway in the name of honesty because there isn’t enough of it in this world.

I got divorced …

I came into some money …

I wanted to do something good with it …

Sascha doesn’t bat an eye, instead he keeps the conversation moving full steam ahead, asking where I’m from, where I went to college, and what I do for fun on the weekends.

Every so often I glance at Tierney, who throws me a wink or some side eye with a side of a smile that reeks of “he’s so fucking into you right now!”

Sascha is beautiful in a way that most men aren’t. A skilled conversationalist. An enthusiastic listener. Infinitely curious. And there’s a gentle, unguarded demeanor about him.

But when I look at him, I feel nothing in all the places I should at least be feeling something.

There are no butterflies, no thrumming heart, no head rush.

Dmitri’s phone lights in his hand, and he lifts the screen to his face. A second later, he nudges Sascha.

“Hey, we’re going to meet up with some of our friends downtown,” Sascha says. “You guys want to join us?”

Tierney lifts her palms. “Think I’m going to keep my eight months pregnant ass here, but thanks for the invite. Love, you should go though. If you want.”

I shoot her a look, eyes hardening. A silent, sarcastic thank you for putting me on the spot.

“We’re leaving tomorrow, so I don’t want to stay out late,” I say, turning to Sascha. “Otherwise I’d join you.”

His crystalline gaze steadies onto mine. “That’s too bad.”

Dmitri lifts his brows, waiting as his brother stands there with his feet cemented to the sand.

“Hey, I’m going to be in the city after this for the next few months for work,” he says. “Mind if I look you up when I get there?”

I don’t have to look at Tierney to feel the mile-wide smile radiating off her face.

“Yeah, no, that’d be great,” I say, though I don’t one hundred percent believe myself.

Sascha dips his hand into the pocket of his striped board shorts and retrieves his phone before handing it to me, and I’m instantly taken back to the day Jude asked for my phone so he could program his number into my contacts.

I offer a gracious smile and add my number to his phone under “Love (real name) Aldridge,” and when I hand it back, he chuckles through his nose.

“Cute,” he says, gaze lifting back to mine like a gentle ocean breeze. “I’ll definitely call you.”

With that, he gives a quick wave, tells Tierney it was nice to meet her, and follows his brother up the beach.

“Oh, my god, Love.” Tierney leans toward me, her manicured fingers digging into my arm. “That was random.”

“Yeah.” I grab my wine and take a sip, watching Sascha’s strapping figure grow smaller in the distance.

“He’s sooooo into you.” Tierney rubs her hands together like the crazy person that she currently is.

“Okay.” I shrug, taking another sip.

“Oh, stop. Don’t act coy. He’s probably one of the hottest guys I’ve ever seen in the Hamptons in my life, and he couldn’t take his eyes off you for two seconds.”

“Whatever. He was just being nice.”

“Nice, my pregnant ass.” She rolls her eyes. “If he calls you and asks you on a date, are you going to go?”

“If he even calls me.”

“He will,” she says. “And when he does … you’re going to say yes. Right?”

Pulling in a breath of salty, oceanic air, I respond with a simple, “We’ll see.”

Heading in for the night a little while later, I trek upstairs and get ready for bed, realizing that I haven’t so much as thought about Sascha since he left.

The attention was flattering.

The conversation was enjoyable.

Asking for my number was a charming move.

But at the end of the night, Sascha is the least of my concerns because I still can’t stop wondering why Jude hasn’t read a single