“See you at the wedding tomorrow night?”

“Of course. There’s an open bar to look forward to.” I grin mischievously. “And your brother in a suit.”

She shakes her head. “You’re playing with fire, Lizzy.”

“Tell Connor I said hi,” I call as she leaves.

I can tell them that Sam’s having romantic troubles. Everything about his face tonight says someone broke his heart. But I don’t think that’s specific enough to be of any help, nor does it make any sense. As far as I know, he hasn’t been seeing anyone seriously—and it’s hard to keep a relationship secret in a place as small as New Hope.

I might have ulterior motives for helping dig a little into Sam’s life. I’m pretty sure there’s an unspoken rule for teenage girls that requires them to crush on their friends’ older brothers. For me, that was Della’s brother Sam—right up until he rejected me.

I still can’t believe he walked out the door tonight, disregarding my blatant invitation. I’m in shock, but I can’t be offended. Not when I caught the way his eyes raked over me on his way out. And not when his last text message is making my imagination run wild.

I’m just an asshole who wants to tie you up, make you come, and walk away.

Chapter Two

Liz

“Don’t do it.”

I take my very full glass of red wine from the bartender and frown at Connor Everett. “Do what? Don’t drink this wine? Or don’t get so trashed that my wine goggles get me laid tonight?”

“Don’t try to seduce information out of Sam Bradshaw.” He leans against the bar and scans the reception. Connor’s cute, long, and lean, big hands and kind eyes. Some might even call him handsome, but long ago I gave up on trying to get my brain to see him as something I find more sexually appealing than a Care Bear.

Apparently he finds what he’s looking for—or whom—because he stops scanning the crowd and swallows hard. “You’ll only get hurt.”

I follow his gaze to see Sam sitting at a table with his family. “A little pain is okay, as long as it’s consensual.”

Connor gives me a look. “I’ve got this under control, okay? Cancel any of your plans to help me out by letting Sam under that skirt.” His gaze skims over me and he grins. “Looking hot tonight, by the way.”

I smack his arm. “You’re with Della now and not allowed to say those things to me.”

He winces and rubs his arm. “Even if it’s true?”

I roll my eyes. “Have you met Della?”

“Good point,” he mutters. “Stay away from Sam.”

“What are you, his keeper?”

“He needs one, but no. Della admitted she asked you to help.” He dips his head and locks eyes with me. “I’m telling you now that I don’t want you to.”

“Are you jealous, Con?” I singsong. My smile falls away when something flashes in his eyes. “No. You’re with Della now.”

He looks away, guilt all over the hard angles of his face. “I know. And this isn’t about jealousy. It’s about me trying to take care of a friend. Della shouldn’t have pulled you into this, but that’s my fault for telling her anything to begin with.”

“Well, I’m already in it, so you might as well tell me what’s going on.”

His jaw hardens.

“Okay,” I say. “I’ll just tell Sam you’re poking around and see if he knows why.”

Connor whips his head around. “Don’t.”

“Then tell me.”

“I’m going to kill Della,” he grumbles.

I take a long swallow of my wine, waiting.

“Last week, he withdrew a large sum of money from his account, and his father’s concerned Sam might be involved with something bad.”

“Like what?”

Connor shrugs. “Gambling? Hookers? Hell, this is Sam we’re talking about. It could be anything.”

I swallow the rest of my wine and settle the glass on the bar.

Sam’s at his table by the dance floor, nodding as his father tells him something. I think Connor’s right to be worried. There’s something different about Sam tonight. He’s distant. Distracted. Again, he seems . . . heartbroken.

Could it be that Sam—a notorious player—has allowed someone close enough to his heart to break it? Or is my loneliness making me see things that aren’t there?

That doesn’t explain the money, though.

“So we have a deal?” Connor asks. “You’ll forget that Della told you anything?”

“Sure.” I nod to the bartender, who refills my glass. God bless him and enablers everywhere.

Connor’s shoulders sag. “Good. I know it’s none of my business who you sleep with, but you can do better than a player like Sam.”

“I didn’t say anything about not sleeping with him.” I take another swallow of liquid courage as Connor grimaces. “Oh, stop acting like I’m some vestal virgin who needs protecting.”

“Connor!” Della calls. “There you are! Come dance with me!”

I shoo him away. “Go have fun.”

I wait until Sam’s family has evacuated their table, then make my way over to him. He’s sitting back in his seat, legs spread wide, rolling a bottle of beer between his hands as he watches the drunken wedding guests go “to the left” then “to the right.” My own table cleared out earlier, but I said I wanted to stay and dance a little. In truth, I just wanted Sam.