I laugh as I start texting. Yes! He’s thinking of me. How about six o’clock?

Sounds good, Tiffy. I’ve got meetings all day, so I’ll just pick you up in your room.

OK, bye!

I lie back on the bed and smile with relief. He’s not avoiding me after all. He’s just busy. And arranging a spa day for me is sweet. I really needed this ego boost.

My phone rings and jolts me out of my little daydream world. I look at the screen and moan. Fletcher. He’s gonna want to know why I left without saying goodbye.

“Hello?” I say into the speaker.

“Hey,” he says, a little hesitation in his voice. “You left me cold this morning.”

“Oh, Cole planned a spa day for me, so I needed to get back to my room and clean up.” Clean up? Jesus. What a way to bring up the fact that we fucked like teenagers last night.

No. Not exactly teenagers. It was pretty amazing. But that’s what the bad boys do, right? They hook you with great sex and then leave you. So why not leave him first?

“Oh.” He pauses, thinking probably.

“I got a date with Cole tonight though. So we’re still on for Operation Jealousy? Or is this a good sign and I should stop with the games?”

“Date, huh?” He sounds unsure. But that’s typical, right? He probably wants another one-night stand with me. And honestly, I should not have had sex with him again. One night is OK, I guess. It’s a fling. But we’ve been taking this too far. “I think you’re probably on your way to bagging your man. So you don’t need me anymore.”

Hmmm. His usually friendly demeanor is gone. In fact, if I didn’t know better I’d think he was jealous.

“So he’s the guy for you, huh?”

“Yeah, right? That was the whole point of all these things we’ve been doing the past week.”

“And you love him, right?”

“Well, I’m not sure about love, Fletcher. Do you love every girl you bang?”

He huffs some air into the phone.

“Don’t get weird on me, OK? You’re the one who wanted a one-nighter.”

“You were the one who wanted last night, if my memory serves.”

“Yeah, well, I was feeling dejected.”

“And I was just there?”

“What the hell, Fletcher? You’re not interested in me. You’re interested in a job, remember? You wanted us to use each other. And we did. And now you’re trying to pretend you actually like me? You want me to feel guilty for going for the guy who was the goal the whole time? Wow.”

“I never said I was pretending to like you, Tiffy. I picked you out of a crowd for a reason.”

“Yeah, to fuck me for one night and then throw me away like trash. Just like you always do.”

“So you’re gonna get the jump on that, then? And throw me away before I have a chance?”

“So you admit it!”

“I’m not admitting shit, other than I had a nice time last night and I’d like to do it again.”

“Oh, so we’re just gonna keep this going? An endless string of casual sex with no commitments? I don’t think so. I’m not that kind of girl, for one thing. And I’m not interested in casual.”

“How do you even know I was thinking casual, anyway? Did you ever ask?”

“You have it written all over you, Fletcher. Your sign says Don’t get attached, because I sure won’t. And so I took your warning to heart and now you’re mad at me? How is that fair?”

“I’ll ask you again. You’re just gonna throw this away and not even give it a chance?”

“Give what a chance? I’m having a hard time understanding you, Fletcher. Do you even know what you want? Do you even know who you want? Why me?”

“Huh,” he says, laughing out the word. “Classic self-loathing, Tiffy. You don’t think you’re good enough. You’re so sure I could never like you for real, you decide to fuck it all up and ditch me first before you can get hurt.”

“What are you talking about? We fucked last night, nothing more.”

“Really? That’s all it was? You didn’t feel any connection with me at all?” He pauses again, but I get the feeling he’s got more to say and I can’t help but be intrigued. So I stay silent. “Because I did. It was fun, Tiff. But it was more than fun. It was nice. And I was seriously hoping you had real feelings for me. Because I’d like to get to know you better.”

I don’t know what to say to that. A childish insult just seems wrong. What if he is sincere? Would I want him?

He’s definitely hot. So yeah, I guess there’s that. But his personality, God, what do I do with that? He’s a callous player. He thinks love is a game. He’s out for himself. And he’s a stripper, for Pete’s sake. How will a man like him care for me? He’s a I’m-gonna-walk-out-on-you kind of guy if ever there was one. I just know it. The minute I depend on him, those true colors will come through and he’ll leave me. Just like my real father did to my mother. Cole is the stable choice. Just like Randall was the stable choice for my mom. “It’s not about me being good enough for you, Fletcher. It’s whether you’re good enough for me.”

Silence.

And then hang-up beeps.

I just stare at the phone. What the fuck was that? Since when does he have feelings? Like any feelings? He’s Mr I Have No Feelings! And we have one night of great sex and I’m supposed to believe he’s changed? How the fuck does that make sense?

Just put him out of your mind, Tiffy. He’s no one. He’s using you. He’s the worst kind of player. Because maybe he does have an inkling of emotion in him beyond lust, but I just know he’s a flight risk. I can see it now. I tell him what he wants to hear, we have a few great weeks of hot sex, and then he’s on to the next project. That’s all girls are to him. Projects.

“Fuck that. I’m not a project.”

But I am. Because I made a deal with him to get Cole.

No. It’s not the same, Tiffy. Nothing he did helped me. Cole wasn’t interested in me when I was flirting. He was the opposite of interested. He only became interested when I was real. When I put myself out there without any help from Fletcher and made my move. I’m the one who got him excited about having dinner with me today. I’m the one who took a chance. And Fletcher had nothing to do with that. Cole likes me when I’m me. Fletcher just likes me when I’m naked.

I take a deep breath and pull on some shorts and a tank top. I’m going to the spa. I’m gonna relax for the whole day, and then get prettied up and meet Cole for dinner. I’m not gonna waste my chance with the possibility of a maybe from Fletcher Novak. No way.

Chapter Twenty-Six

My spa time is anything but relaxing. My conversation with Fletcher dominates my thoughts. Why now? Why, when life seems to be going just the way I planned, does he have to try to convince me he’s changed his stripes?

I don’t understand. I’m not equipped to understand, if I’m being honest. I’m not a player. I should never have gotten mixed up with Fletcher. He’s way out of my league.

And that thought stops me again. Do I really think that? Is he right? Do I think he’s too good for me and all that shit I spewed at him this morning was just a way to cover up the fact that I feel unworthy of a looker like Fletcher?

“Owww,” I whine at the masseuse.

“You need to relax, Miss Preston. Your neck is bunched up tight as a fist. Let go and let me help you.”

I let out a long sigh and try to relax my shoulders. God, even the staff thinks I’m uptight. “You know what? I’m just not into it today. I’ve had enough.” I sit up, clutching the towel to my chest. Marie, the masseuse, looks hurt. Like she did something wrong. “It’s not you, Marie. I just have too much on my mind. I can’t relax right now. How about I come back later this week and we try this spa day again?”

“OK, Miss Preston,” she says, gathering up her oils. “You just give us a call when you’re ready and I will clear my schedule for you.” She squeezes my shoulder. “But don’t let it go too long. Stress isn’t good for you.”