Chapter 3

• Megan sniffed. “We prefer the term heir.”
• Oliver laughed, and she joined him.
• Even though she’d tried to surround herself with people who were far from the family-in-the-summer upbringing she’d been born into, there was something comforting about talking to someone with a similar background. A fellow expatriate from the world of dysfunctional blue bloods who reeked of old money. No one else understood how twisted it was to be raised by people like Scott Thompson and her own father, whom her sister and she commonly referred to as “the sociopath.”
• “Just to assure you,” Oliver said after their mirth died down, “I really am STI free. I can show you my papers if you really want the proof. I just went to the clinic a couple of weeks ago.”
• “You’re making me sound like the Gestapo of sex.”
• “I realize neither of us were on our A-game in terms of caution, but it’s not like we’re strangers. And me being sexually active doesn’t automatically mean I have a festering disease.”
• “If I knew you better, I wouldn’t have been so paranoid,” Megan said defensively.
• “Uh-huh.” He did not look convinced. “Anyway, I’m fine. You’re good. I promise.”
• Relief flooded Megan even though she’d already tried to soothe her paranoia. She waited for him to ask her about her own health and frowned when he didn’t. “Aren’t you curious if I get tested?”
• “No. I assume you’re not the risk-taking type.”
• Megan clenched her jaw. “Of course.”
• Oliver tucked his hand under her chin. “You’re a prickly, aren’t you?”
• “Not really.”
• “Yeah, you are. Prickly and self-conscious as all hell.”
• Megan took a large gulp of the tea. It scalded the back of her throat.
• “David did a number on you, didn’t he?”
• “Let’s not talk about David. Or that person he’s dating.”
• “Susan.” Oliver lips curled up in a wicked smile. “Susan is hot.”
• “I hadn’t noticed.”
• “Liar. That girl could outshine the sun. You just hate her because she’s in love with David.”
• That was an interesting way to put it. Megan had never framed their relationship that way before.
• “Is she really?”
• Oliver nodded with conviction. “It’s sickening, but yes. I wanted her for myself, but she’s hooked on your ex.”
• Megan flashed back to the night before, when she’d drunkenly observed David and Susan's affectionate embrace. At the time, it had burned like acid sinking into the cavities of her heart, but now… the knowledge grounded her. Susan loved David.
• “You’re an odd duck,” Oliver said, looking at Megan with curiosity.
• “Why’s that?” Megan asked.
• “Because you’re smiling.” Oliver wagged his finger at her. “I thought I had you figured out, but that threw me way the fuck off.”
• “What did you have figured?” Megan inquired.
• “Oh, you know….” Oli looked around as if searching for the words. He waved a hand elegantly, painting random figures in the air. “I thought you wanted him back and were guilt-stricken that you spent five hours fucking his friend. But then you looked relieved that Susan is in love with him, so I have no idea what to think.”
• Warmth rushed to Megan's face, and it had nothing to do with the steaming cup of tea.
• “I thought he gravitated to Susan because of the sex. He told me there was more to it, but I didn’t believe him. The girl is walking sex, and my brief conversations with her were so hostile I couldn’t imagine her being much more than a testosterone-driven hard-on for David.”
• Oli started to speak but seemed to think better of it. He cocked his head again, blue eyes steady on Megan, and was quiet while she drained the mug. Only when she slid it to the center of the table did he speak again.
• “You thought he only went to Susan because the sex was better. That’s why you’re so self-conscious about sex. He made you insecure.”
• “He didn’t make me anything,” Megan countered. “I’ve always been this way. I wasn’t in a position to date or pursue a relationship because of my father . By then, I was 25 and very aware of my lack of sexual experience.”
• “Late bloomer,” Oli said. “I get it now.”
• “No, you don’t. To people like you and David—everything is about sex, and I’m a stodgy bastard because I can’t keep up.”
• Oliver burst out laughing, and Megan knew her face was in flames. She started to rise, but he grabbed her hand.
• “I’m not laughing at you,” he said through his chuckles. “Not for the reason you think.”
• “Spare me.” Megan yanked her hand away and walked around the table. It may have been true, but she hadn’t actually expected to be laughed at. “I’ll mail your things back as soon as possible.”
• Megan started for the door but realized she’d never located her wallet or keys and backtracked to the bathroom where she’d left her pants. Oliver followed.
• “Megan, stop. I’m sorry. It’s not what you’re thinking.”
• “Piss off, Oliver.”
• He started laughing again. She shoved him when he grabbed her arm, and they both wound up slipping on the damp bathroom floor. Megan fell on her ass with Olivier half on top of her, and they tumbled backward in a heap. By then, he was laughing harder.
• “You’re so wrong,” he said breathlessly. “You really have no idea.”
• Megan shoved him off her and sat up, glaring. “What the hell are you talking about?”
• “Last night,” Oli said, “we fucked so many times. In the hallway at Emily's house, a handjob in the cab, and three times after we got here. It was a marathon, Emily. A marathon. And I haven’t had that much fun with in years.”
• Her eyes widened.
• “So if you think you can’t keep up….” Oliver scoffed and got to his feet. “You’re selling yourself short.”
• Megan tried to say something but drew a blank. She looked up at him as dampness seeped into the thin cotton pants.
• “And if you’re looking for your wallet, it’s in my bedroom.”
• This time Megan was the one who broke into chuckles, and she didn’t shy away when he helped her up.