“To see your mom? I can—”
“No, I’ll respect her wishes. But this can’t happen, Riley.”
“Of course. I know that you’re worried about your mom, and the time’s not right,
but—”
“This isn’t a rain check, Riley. This is a wake-up call.”
Riley narrowed her eyes. Something about his tone … “What did your mom say
to you?”
He looked away.
“Spill it.”
“Nothing.”
“Liar,” she shot back. “You let her get under your skin.”
“She’s sick, Ri.”
“Which sucks, but that doesn’t mean she gets to shit on you! What did she say?”
she asked, her voice harsh as she climbed off the bed.
He raked a hand through his hair. “Look, I’m sorry, Ri. But we both know this
would be a mistake for both of us.”
No it wouldn’t.
He moved to the wardrobe, pulling out a robe, and for a second he moved like he
was going to wrap her in it himself before thinking better of it and tossing it at her
roughly.
Burning with humiliation, she pulled the oversized cotton robe around her, even
as her lust-addled brain tried to sort it all out.
He was leaving her? Like this?
“The room’s paid for,” he said gently. “Get some room service. The whole menu,
since I know how you get when you don’t eat. Rent p**n , I’ll never tell.”
She knew he was trying for a joke to lighten the mood, but she didn’t bite. “You’re
acting like the worst kind of mama’s boy. Don’t let her do this to you. To us.”
He sighed and rubbed a hand over his mouth. “I … I’ll call you later?”
She recognized that tone. He wouldn’t.
“Just help me understand, Sam.” Her voice went pleading. “I thought we had a
good thing, and I get that we’re not going to continue the sexy stuff, but I don’t
get why you’re leaving—”
“She said I’m no good!” he exploded. “She said I’m no good, and she’s right. I’m
especially no good for you.”
Riley took a step backward in surprise. Sam rarely talked about Helena, and that
alone had been a clue that Helena wasn’t exactly of the cuddly mother variety.
She’d known they weren’t exactly doing cozy Sunday brunches on a regular
basis.
But this?
She’d had no idea that Sam’s mom was downright vile.
What sort of mother would say that to her own son?
“Don’t look like that,” he muttered. “It’s not the first time she’s let me know that
I’m a bad son, a bad friend, and was a bad husband.”
“She’s wrong,” Riley shot back. “She’s dead wrong.”
His eyes met hers. “Is she? What is it that I’m good at? It wasn’t as an investment
banker. I quit that. It’s not making whisky. I’m not selling that. She’s right about
the bad-husband thing, I really sucked at that.”
“Because none of those things were right for you. Well, actually, I think the whisky
thing could be if you gave it a chance, but you never wanted to be an investment
banker. And Hannah …”
Hannah wasn’t the one. I am.
He stepped backward.
“I don’t want to hear it, Riley. And I sure as hell don’t want to talk about it. When
you cool off, you’ll see that I’m right. In the morning, you’ll be relieved that we
didn’t do this.”
“I bet,” she snapped. “You know, on the plus side, I’ll get a great story idea out of
this. Female blue balls: a real thing!”
“Riley—it’s just sex. I’m sure you’ll find someone else to scratch the itch.”
Oh God.
She’d been wrong. Female blue balls were the least of her problems.
Being rejected by this man hurt.
She inhaled a deep breath through her nose to keep from responding. She knew
he didn’t mean to be cruel, but his flippant dismissal of what had almost happened
between them was the ultimate reminder that this was so much less to him than
it was to her.
For him it was a failed attempt to defuse the simmering sexual tension between
them. For her, it mattered. And not just because it would bump her sexual
encounters out of the once-a-long-time-ago category.
It mattered because it was Sam.
And Sam mattered to her.
And his rejection was so much worse than she could have imagined.
A lump formed in her throat, and she dug her nails into her palms to keep from
begging him to stay. Or worse, from begging him to feel about her the way she
did about him.
She wanted to be everything to him.