“Because I’m not the kind of girl who likes to play games.”

Mercifully, the door bangs open and Jake bounds into the parking lot. “Sorry I took so long. Ready to go?” He gives me the wide, easy smile Amanda couldn’t resist. This is the kind of guy I should be going out with—nice, friendly, easygoing. Instead, I’ve been wasting my time lusting over a mercurial fighter with a sexy girlfriend.

Torment’s eyes narrow. Jake takes a step back.

“Is it okay if I give Makayla a ride home?”

“We’re not finished here.” Torment’s voice is perfectly controlled, but anger simmers just beneath the surface.

“We are finished.”

“No, we’re not.”

I sigh. “We are. I hope you don’t have too much trouble finding someone else.”

I pivot and follow Jake into the parking lot.

This time, I don’t look back.

Chapter 6

Angry girls don’t bounce

I am jolted out of a fitful sleep by a loud banging on the front door and the grating sounds of heavy equipment. My clock flashes eight o’clock. Who the hell gets up at eight o’clock on a Saturday morning?

By the time I find my bathrobe and stumble down the hallway, my housemates are already in the foyer.

“What’s going on?”

Rob hands me an official-looking piece of paper. “We have a new landlord, a company called Legacy Holdings. They’re renovating the property starting today. They’ve arranged for us to move to the Sunset View Apartments on Lake Merritt while the renovations are being done.”

Jennifer staggers back against the wall and slaps a hand to her chest. “No way. Those apartments are insanely expensive. I went out with a guy who rented there. He lived on the twenty-fourth floor. The views over the Bay are amazing. They have a doorman, a fitness center, and a sauna.”

Doormen and saunas sound expensive. “Do we have to pay more rent?”

Rob reads the rest of the document. “Nothing changes. We pay the same rent. And they are splurging for three apartments on the same floor. Carlos and I are in one. Jennifer and Ashley are in the other, and you get your own place.”

“Seriously? My own apartment?”

Rob hands me the papers and I skim over the boring legal bits and dive straight into the important stuff. Yup. My very own apartment, fully furnished, and my rent doesn’t change. Not only are they putting us up during the renovations, they are sending a moving truck for our personal stuff today at noon.

Too bad this didn’t happen a day earlier and Torment could have seen me living in style. But I will not think about Torment. I will not remember the feel of his soft warm lips as they sucked ice cream off my finger. I will not remember his chiseled pecs or his smoldering eyes…or the deep rumble of his voice…or the feel of his hard body pressed up against mine…or the way my core tightens when he touches me. He is gone. Forgotten. I have already moved on.

Dr. Drake is easy on the eye. He has a nice smile. Nice body. Very nice teeth. Not much in the way of a dangerous persona, but he seems to like me.

I will have lunch with him on Monday.

I hope he likes picnics.

***

Nine hours later, my first housewarming party is in full swing. My luxuriously furnished, one-bedroom apartment on the twenty-third floor of the Sunset View Apartments buzzes with activity. While Jennifer and Carlos mix cocktails with their friends in the high-end kitchen, I grab another glass of champagne from the bar and head over to the balcony to catch up with Amanda.

My path takes me through the random assortment of boyfriends, girlfriends, friends with benefits, and soon-to-be one-night stands clustered in the center of my open space living area. A pang of loneliness grips me. Why am I always single at parties—the best friend, housemate, filler, or stand-in? Why am I never the one making out in the bedroom or chatting to the guests as my boyfriend slings a casual arm over my shoulder and whispers sweet nothings into my ear? What’s wrong with me?

“So, what happened with Torment?” As always, Amanda gets straight to the point. I lean over the railing, soaking up the view of San Francisco Bay, and steel myself for her interrogation.

She pokes me in the side when I am not immediately forthcoming with information.

“I thought I’d finally get the ‘don’t call me in the morning’ text after you texted me about your afternoon picnic and your motorcycle ride.”

A warm breeze ruffles my hair, bringing with it the fresh scent of the ocean and an unwanted memory of my cheek pressed up against Torment’s jacket when we raced around the bay on his Agusta.

“You must have missed the text where I said he just wanted me to work.” My third—or is it my fourth?—glass of champagne is a little too sweet and a little too fruity, but I gulp it down just the same. Some nights call for a little extra indulgence, and this is one of them.

Amanda’s laugh tinkles in the still of the night. “I didn’t believe it. I saw the way he watched you when we left the club last week. When you told me he tracked you down at the hospital with a picnic in tow, I knew he was into you.”

“Well, your instincts were wrong this time,” I snap. “He has a girlfriend. That over-processed blonde who was prancing around in pink Latex. I call her Pinkaluscious.”

Amanda snorts champagne through her nose. “Catty. Not like you—which tells me you like him.”

I shake my head. “He isn’t really my type. Too violent. Too rough. Too dangerous. He probably hangs out with unsavory biker dudes. I’m better off sticking with my usual.”