don’t understand pain and how I’m in the prime of my body and life, lady. That’s some condescending, ignorant bullshit.”
Her face was burning for an entirely different reason now.
But he hadn’t told her anything about his past. Also, she’d asked him several times why he’d come to the isl—
“And while we’re having this enlightening discussion, let me add that I’m fucking over how you use your age as a weapon against me. Against us.” He was leaning over the net now, a vein throbbing at his temple. “I get it. You’re forty and have grey hairs and bad joints and grew up without the internet and probably listened to the Bee Gees or some shit on your record player. I don’t give a fuck.”
Of course it didn’t matter to him, not given how little he wanted from her.
And she didn’t want him to demand more. She didn’t.
She met him nose-to-nose, relieved as anger and hurt roared to life once more and incinerated the shame. “Maybe you don’t, since you’re bored and just want to land me in bed for a week or two. But I don’t have time for a fling.”
“I never said I only wanted you for a week or two.” He flung his hands in the air. “I wouldn’t have said that, because it wouldn’t be the truth. I don’t know what I want from you. Not yet.”
No. She wouldn’t let that feel good. “Fine. But if we were together longer, you would care about my age at some point. Trust me on that. I know from personal experience.”
His eyes narrowed on her. In curiosity? More anger?
“I see. So that experience tells you everything you need to know about me, a man you met two days ago.” He waved a hand in insolent invitation. “Go ahead then, Assistant Principal Dunn. Enlighten me.”
He was right. They were virtual strangers. Was she really going to tell him about her failed engagement?
Yes. If it helped her win this argument, which now felt like a mortal struggle for some reason, she’d do it. Happily.
“I was engaged for almost ten years to a history professor. A grown man in his mid-forties whose job included rules about ethics when it came to students. A grown man I found in our bed with a grad student.” She tipped up her chin and pointed a finger at his hard chest. “So tell me, Lucas. If I couldn’t trust my middle-aged fiancé not to fuck the nearest twenty-something, even when it might cost him his career and his wife-to-be, how can I trust an almost-stranger barely old enough to rent a goddamn car?”
When Lucas let out a slow breath, his expression softening, she thought he might…
Well, that was stupid. He wasn’t going to reach for her. Not in the middle of an argument. Not when she’d just impugned his ability to remain honest and faithful.
Still, his jaw had unclenched, and she loathed the way he’d pressed his lips together in a sympathetic grimace. “Tess…”
“It’s fine. I’m over it. I’ve learned my lesson and moved on.”
One corner of his mouth quirked. “Clearly.”
It shouldn’t bother her, not amidst so many larger issues, but… “All that said, the Bee Gees were mostly before my time.” She paused. “Although I did own the Saturday Night Fever soundtrack on vinyl, I think. Also an album of ABBA’s greatest hits.”
He blinked at her.
This wasn’t helping her cause. Back on point. “So there’s no way I’d ever—”
Shaking his head, Lucas interrupted. “I’m sorry your ex was a cheating dickwad. But he’s the one who committed himself to you and then fucked you over, not me.” He grasped the finger still pointing at his chest. “He’s not me. I cancelled my plans with Karolina. I would never sleep with someone else if we were together. You don’t know me. You. Don’t. Know. Me.”
He gave her finger a gentle shake with every word.
Christ, she wanted to believe him. But how could she?
When she wrenched her finger free, he didn’t try to hold on. “No, I don’t. And you know why I don’t?”
He dropped his head back and glowered at the night sky. “Oh, Jesus. Here we go.”
“Because I may use my age as a weapon against you”—and damn him for noticing—“but you use your charm as a weapon against everyone. Me included.” She drew his attention back to her with a finger under his chin. “Enough flirtation, enough lazy winks, enough innuendo, and no one notices you don’t reveal anything about yourself. Ever. Not even your