of the endless lies I’ve told in the past twenty-four hours. Dinner conversation would be interesting that night.
I’d have to set the record straight in the morning. Until then, I deserved a break.
“Looks like we had the same idea.”
It would appear that someone up there thinks I deserve nothing.
“Nathan.”
My sorta ex-boyfriend sat on the top rail of the patio chair, his socked feet on the seat. A growing collection of empty beer cans littered the table.
“Just you?” I sat down, laying out my creamy shrimp risotto and garlic bread. “Or will my dinner come with a porno?”
“I’m solo tonight but I can make that happen. You used to like watching me jerk off.”
I leaned back, nibbling on my bread. “Go on, then. I’m waiting.”
Nathan laughed. “I forgot there’s no point teasing you. You call everybody on their bluff.” He hopped down and reached for his belt buckle. “Seems you forgot I don’t back down either.”
My pulse picked up speed as he tugged his shirt over his head.
“I didn’t forget. I also remembered what drives your reckless need to prove yourself,” I said—a tad quickly as his pants hit the floor. “What’s wrong? Is your mom okay?”
Nathan halted his stripping, standing there in boxers, socks, and skin. “Why would you assume something is wrong?”
“You’re drunk at six in the afternoon.”
“Correction. I’m buzzed at six in the afternoon.”
“What’s wrong?” I repeated.
“You have to ask?” Nathan returned to his precarious seat, not bothering to put his clothes back on. “Knight staked his claim to marry my kinda ex. Isn’t that reason enough to get trashed?”
I wasn’t surprised that he did it too. Kinda. Sorta.
Nathan and I got close. Closer than I’d been with anybody. But we didn’t call our summers together anything more than a fling. It didn’t take a therapist to guess we were trying not to get hurt.
Didn’t work.
“You know me, Nathan. And you know Carter. The Huntington’s is made up. Why would anything else he said be true?”
“Was he lying about your parents cutting you off? Did he make up you having to choose among whoever proposes to you or end up on the streets?”
My spoon clattered to the bowl, spitting risotto at me. “He told you that?” I cried.
Course he did. You expect the guy essentially blackmailing you to keep your confidence?
“Yeah, he told us. You’re marrying him so you both get what you want.” Nathan fished out an unopened can. “Tell me something, Belle. Was it Carter? Was he the guy?”
I frowned. “Was he the guy what?”
“That you cheated on me with.”
My jaw dropped. Full-on, hanging-off-my-skull surprise. “Excuse me?”
“Was he the guy you were fucking while whispering in my ear that you loved me?”
“Are you kidding me, Nathan?!” Suddenly, I was on my feet.
Nakedness equaled vulnerability in any other person. Drunkenness reduced them to a wobbly moron. But Nathan Prince wasn’t built to conform to stereotypes. He faced me, gaze steadily blazing heat, arms rippled with tension, powerful body coiled to leap over the railings and finish this once and for all.
“I wasn’t fucking anyone! You were! You cheated on me.”
“I let one girl go down on me after it was over between us.”
“You just forgot to tell me it was over!”
“I didn’t have to,” he growled. “You knew it was when you bent over for that sappy bro you tried to hide from me. Was it Carter?!”
“It wasn’t anyone!” I was sure they could hear us down in the dining hall. “You’re not doing this, Nathan. Rewriting our history. Putting the blame on me. I did nothing wrong except fall for the lies from that pretty siren mouth.”
His mouth still looked pretty—twisted and snarling though it was.
We locked horns. Chests heaving. Nostrils flared. Fists balled.
Nathan broke first.
Lines smoothing, his face returned to his regularly scheduled handsome. Nathan released his grip and bent to pick up his dropped beer. “What are we even fighting about? Neither one of us cheated on the other. We weren’t exclusive. We didn’t ‘put labels on it.’ We had some fun a century ago and now it’s over.”
My nails dug half-moons into my forearms. I didn’t know what was worse. Nathan acting like what he did to us was no big deal. Or him using my own words to downplay it.
He twisted to leave.
“That’s it?” I snapped. “You accuse me of cheating, ruin my appetite, piss me off, and then I don’t even get the show?”
Nathan slowed. “Tonight’s not the night to call me on a bluff.”