We sit down, and Mason chatters on and on. I’m not listening, of course. I’m too focused on the bimbo across the fire flirting with my man, and of course, Henley is loving every minute of her attention.

Fucker.

“Do you think we could poison her drink?” Rebecca whispers.

“Probably not.”

It’s late. The night is drawing to an end, and after we watched Taryn Titties flirt with every man at the bonfire, our patience is well and truly used up.

I’ve chatted and laughed with most everyone here, too, and had a great night. Not a single word has been spoken to a certain person, though.

“Henley, come and dance with me,” Taryn purrs as she curls her finger up to him in a come-hither gesture.

That’s it.

Enough!

I can’t take one more minute of watching her fawn all over him. If he wants her, he can fucking have her. Good riddance to both of them.

“I’m going to get going.” I stand.

“Oh really?” Rebecca sighs. “Don’t leave me here.”

I smile. “You’re married—go talk to your husband.” We both look over to see John playing chess with Bennet, and she winces. “It looks very boring over there. I’ll come with you. Give me a second to say goodbye.” She disappears over to the chess table.

“Bye, everyone.” I smile with a wave. “I’m heading home.”

Henley glances up as if taken by surprise. “Already?”

Yes, fucker. I’ve been here for six hours, and you haven’t said a single word to me.

I give a wave and make my way out front.

“Wait up,” Rebecca calls as she runs to catch up. She links her arm through mine. “Screw Henley, I think we should set you up with Mason.”

“No.” I scrunch up my nose. “Definitely not.”

“What’s wrong? Don’t you like huge hot men who give you their undivided attention all night?”

I giggle. “I mean . . . he seems nice and all, but I don’t know.”

“Taryn’s probably making a move on my husband right now.” Rebecca rolls her eyes. “What if it’s her? What if he’s sleeping with her?”

My blood boils at just the thought.

“He wouldn’t. It’s not her. She’s shameless, though. I wouldn’t put it past her,” I huff. “Seriously, if it’s her, I’m going to bomb her house.”

“I’ll help.” We get to the middle of the street, and she gives me a hug. “Tonight was fun.”

“It was.”

“And we need to organize our coffee date.”

“I know. I’m on day shift next week. Next weekend maybe?”

“Sounds good.”

With another wave I stomp to my house and march inside. “Hi, Barry.”

Barry looks up from his bed all sleepy-like.

“Henley James is a giant fucking dickhead,” I whisper angrily.

Barry looks at me blankly.

“He didn’t even look my way, let alone speak to me,” I tell him. “Ugh . . . I don’t know why I started this dumb thing with him. Chloe is completely right. I am going to end up hating his guts. I kind of do already.”

Barry sighs.

I’m now forcing my poor dog to listen to my dating-hell crap. I flick on my kettle in disgust.

“I paid all this money for these stupid jeans. Well, I shouldn’t have bothered. He wouldn’t have noticed if I was wearing a garbage bag.”

Fucking jerkface.

I make my tea, and Barry comes out into the kitchen and stands at the back door. “You want to go out?” I open the door, and with my hot tea in my hand, I sit on the back steps in the darkness as I wait for him to go to the bathroom.

Barry looks up at the fence and starts wagging his tail. I hear a noise in the darkness in the far corner.

What’s going on out there?

I get up and walk toward the noise. I see two hands holding on to the top of the fence; then a leg swings over. With a lot of huffing and puffing, Henley comes into view. He’s climbing the fence. He swings his other leg over and then jumps down.

“What are you doing?”

He jumps, startled to find me standing here. “I’m coming to visit you.”

He honestly thinks he can ignore me all night while flirting with Tittsy LaRue?

Ha. Of all the nerve.

“No, you’re not,” I reply blankly. “Go home, Henley. I’m not in the mood tonight.” I turn and storm back toward the house. He’s hot on my heels.

“Since when?”

“Since you’re a giant flirt.”

“I was not flirting,” he scoffs. “I was talking about very important things.”

I roll my eyes, and I march into the house. “Like what bra size Taryn wears? Give me a fucking break.”

“Are you jealous?”

“No,” I explode. “Why would I be jealous of her? And . . .” I gesture toward him in disgust. “You.” I put my hands on my hips to try and look convincing. “Go home.”

“No, we have an arrangement,” he fires back. “I would like my night tonight.”

“Oh, would you now? The answer is no.”

“You cannot be jealous; this is not a relationship. We talked about this, and you said you were fine with it.”

“I know that,” I whisper angrily. Why did I agree to this stupid fucking arrangement anyway? “What I am not fine with is watching you flirt all night right under my nose.”

“So you are jealous.”

“Oh my god. I am not fucking jealous. What I am is pissed off with you.”

Does he really think that he can ignore me all night and then turn up here for sex?

No way in hell. The man is an idiot.

“Because you are jealous.”

“Shut up and go home.”

“Not until you kiss me.”

“I’m not kissing you,” I spit. “I wouldn’t kiss you if you were the last man on earth.”

Lies!

“Go and kiss Taryn. I’m sure you’ve negotiated an arrangement with her already.”

“You cannot be jealous; you have no right to use that card. We have an arrangement. Nothing more and nothing less.”

Knock, knock sounds at the door.

We both fall silent. “Who’s that?” he mouths.

I shrug. “I don’t know.”

I open the door to the closet under the stairs. “Get in,” I mouth.

“No,” he spits.

I push him into the closet and close the door behind him. I open the front door to see Mason standing there. “Mason.” I frown.

Shit!

“Hi.”

“Hi . . .”

He hesitates. “I was wondering if you wanted to go out sometime . . . on a date.”

“Oh . . .”

Shit, shit, shit.

“I just haven’t met anyone quite like you. I know we would hit it off.”

“I’m . . .” I pause. Henley’s words from only two minutes ago come back to me loud and clear.

You cannot be jealous; you have no right to use that card. We have an arrangement. Nothing more and nothing less.

I know that from his place in the closet, Henley can hear every word we’re saying. Maybe it’s time for some payback.

“I’d love to go on a date with you.” I smile sweetly.

A bang sounds from the closet, and Mason looks over toward it. “What was that?”

“My clumsy oaf of a dog.”

“Oh . . . so it’s a date?”

“Uh-huh.”