Eleven

Oakley

Hamilton was nice.

Okay, well, most females would say he was hot. Sexy. A great catch.

I was struggling to stay interested. Maybe I was broken. Why else would I be forcing a smile while carrying a cup of black coffee to the tall, muscular, successful, blond underwear model? Something had to be wrong with me. Right?

As I entered my living room, he turned from the television show he was watching to me and smiled. He made a lot of money with that smile. Most women swooned over that face of his. Yep, I was defective. That was all there was to it.

“You sure I can’t get you something stronger than coffee?” I asked him as I approached and held out the cup for him to take.

“I can’t. Alcohol makes me retain water, and I have a shoot tomorrow, where I’ll be in nothing but briefs.”

Don’t roll your eyes, Oakley. Do not do it.

I held up my glass of merlot. “Well, cheers anyway.”

With a low, amused chuckle, he tapped his cup against my glass, and then I took a long drink of the smooth red wine. This was our fourth date since the blind date when we had doubled with Daphne and Tanner. Tonight, I had made dinner for us, following Hamilton’s strict diet, due to his next week of photo shoots. It was bland and boring, but he’d raved about the boiled chicken and steamed broccoli as if it had been gourmet.

“You don’t talk much about yourself. We’ve been out four times now, and yet I know very little about you. I know you have your own Etsy store, that you are very close to your niece and text her regularly, that you volunteer at the animal shelter, and you look amazing in a bikini. Tell me something I don’t know,” Hamilton said as he leaned back on my sofa.

I had tried to keep the conversation off me and more on him. Most men with his looks had an ego and liked talking about themselves. He was no exception. I knew where he had gone to high school, his basketball scoring record, his short-lived college career, even his mother’s maiden name. I didn’t mind. I preferred he talk than me tell him things. If he was talking, then I could sit and pretend like I cared. It was cold and indifferent. I knew that, but then I was damaged. He just hadn’t realized it yet.

Trying to think of something to say that would interest him but not give away anything about my past, I almost sighed in relief when my text message alert went off. It was the sound Sarah had chosen for herself in my phone. I smiled and pulled out the phone tucked in my pocket and set my wine on the coffee table.

“Speaking of my niece,” I said to him, then looked down at my phone.

Dad has to go out of town for two days, and he won’t ask you to come stay. He said he had it handled with Ms. Maynard.

Asshole. Why was he being difficult? I had done a great job taking care of her when he was gone last month. It had been three weeks since I’d seen her, and I was missing that sweet face.

I’ll call him.

She immediately texted back.

He will be mad. He wasn’t happy about my room.

My hand tightened on the phone.

The mural? I thought it turned out great!

“Is there a problem? You look upset,” Hamilton asked, reminding me he was there.

I glanced up at him. “Just my ex-brother-in-law being a complete bastard.”

My phone lit up with a text again.

He said you should have asked him.

Asked him if I could help fix Sarah’s room to show her personality instead of leaving her with sterile walls? What was his issue? Did he seriously still hold the past against me? I had put his betrayal behind for Sarah’s sake. Why couldn’t he move on from mine?

I’m not scared of Wilder. I will call him.

There was a pause, and then dots appeared on the screen that said she was replying.

Thank you. I miss you and love you.

My chest tightened. I texted back.

Same.

Lifting my gaze from my phone, I found Hamilton watching me. He was drinking his coffee, clearly relaxed on my sofa.

“You look like a mama bear, about to attack someone upsetting your cub,” he said.

I felt like one too. “Yeah, well, Sarah’s dad isn’t a fan of mine, and vice versa. But for her, he needs to let the past go.”

Hamilton raised his perfectly groomed eyebrows. “Ah, that explains it. I was wondering why any man would provoke you. Most, I assume, pursue you.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, not sure I was following him.

He smirked. “There is a past between the two of you. A man doesn’t get over a woman like you. He just learns ways to be around you without drooling. Your brother-in-law seems to have taken the jerk role. If he is difficult and treats you badly, then he doesn’t have to worry about you smiling at him and him groveling at your feet.”

“Ex-brother-in-law, and trust me, it wasn’t a past like that. At least not for him.” The bitterness in my tone was unavoidable. Thinking about Wilder and what had once been was hard. I tried not to do it—ever.

“Oakley, you can’t be that naive. You have a mirror. You know what you look like. I can assure you that it was that way for him. He must have hidden it well.”

I laughed then, although there was no real humor in it. “He married my stepsister. He wanted her. Not me. It was never me.”

Hamilton studied me for a few moments as he drank from his cup. Those green eyes of his were part of the reason his face was so sought after. The sculpted body he had from working out and eating gross food also contributed.

“I’m a guy. I understand men. I know how we think. Unless your stepsister was equally as gorgeous as you, as intelligent and easy to talk to, completely unaware of her looks and ability to control a man, then he wanted you. He settled for her.”

“He slept with her. He wouldn’t have sex with me,” I said. “But … but I can’t hate him for that. Not now. Sarah is here because of that. I wouldn’t go back and change it. I love her as if she were my own.” I paused, and a small smile tugged at my lips. “Which surprised me. When I first held her, I thought … I thought I would resent her. Sylvia—my stepsister, her mom—and I didn’t get along. At all. We didn’t like each other, but it wasn’t because I hadn’t tried. She had never been nice to me. Then, she had taken Wilder from me. I hated her. I hated her so much until Sarah’s little face looked up at me and stole my heart. My hate evaporated that day. All of it. For Sylvia, for Wilder. They’d betrayed me, but because of it … we had her. This precious baby girl.” I stopped talking, realizing I had just bared my soul to a man, and … well, I didn’t do that. Ever. Not to anyone. It’d felt good to say it though. Get it out.

Hamilton leaned forward and set his cup beside my glass. “I wasn’t prepared for that,” he said, turning his eyes back to me.

I felt embarrassed. I’d just blurted out a lot to him, and it wasn’t like me to do it. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to ramble.”

He shook his head gently as he studied me. “You didn’t ramble. You opened up. Showed me what’s inside. And …” He paused, and then a slow smile spread across his face. “Damn, Oakley. I’m used to beautiful women, but you … you’re gonna end up ruining me.”

I frowned, unsure of how I was going to be this man’s ruin. There was no future for us. I’d already figured that out, but then there never was. My fractured soul made sure of that.

“Your heart is so fucking closed off with walls; it was like a billboard broadcasted that fact the first night we met. But I happen to like a challenge, and you were the first one I’d had in … well, a really long time. You letting me see inside that heart. How big it is. How damn pure it is. That’s not something I’m used to. Not from women who look like you. There isn’t one ounce of ego or vanity. Hell, you could at least be a touch self-absorbed. Anything to make you less than perfect. Because right now, I can’t see a flaw. Not a single one.”

I dropped my gaze from his. He didn’t know me yet.

“Trust me, the flaws are there. Keep looking. They’ll rear their ugly heads soon enough.”