Love Arranged (Lakefront Billionaires, #3)(19)

I keep my mouth sealed.

“I deserve the truth,” she says when I don’t answer. “At least give me that.”

My stomach muscles spasm at the idea of hurting her—a weakness that only applies to her—but I take a deep breath and stroke the dice in my pocket to ground myself. “I was bored.”

She sucks in a breath.

I continue, knowing my answer will destroy any positive feelings she might still have toward me. “You were the first person who messaged me, and I thought you were funny. I didn’t expect anything more than a single conversation, but then you messaged me the next morning…and that night…and I don’t know. It went on way longer than I expected.”

She covers her mouth with the palm of her hand, and tears fill her eyes. I feel like shit—complete and utter shit at causing her any distress whatsoever.

“Why did you agree to meet up, then? You could’ve used it as an out.”

But instead I met up with her on Halloween, not knowing at the time how that night would change everything. One incredible kiss was all it took to send me running, and I haven’t stopped ever since.

I clear my throat. “I will admit that I was curious about what you looked like and why you’d use an anonymous app when you clearly have a decent personality.”

The silence is suffocating.

“Then I met you, and it all made sense. You’re too…”

She makes a choking sound, and it feels as if she wrapped her small hands around my heart.

“Too…” I struggle to think of something strong enough to deter her.

“Too what?” Her voice sounds so damn distant, and I realize it’s because she’s moved as far away from me as humanly possible by tucking her body against the door.

I deserve the sick feeling bubbling in my stomach and much more as I throw the final emotional punch. “You were too much for someone like me.”

You wanted kids, a husband, and a dog, while I only cared about myself, I want to tell her.

You’d spend all your energy defending a man who your family doesn’t like and never will, I nearly add.

I would’ve become obsessed with you. Completely, utterly, undeniably obsessed, and it would’ve killed me in the process.

“Pull over!”

My head whips in her direction. “What?”

She reaches for the handle.

Shit! Is she about to open the door to a moving vehicle?

“I’m going to be sick!” she shouts with misty eyes.

“Fuck! Hold on.” I turn the wheel to the right, nearly swiping another car parked along Main Street in the process of parking in the emergency lane.

Lily jumps out of my truck before I can pull to a full stop. I’m not fast enough, so she is already bent over and retching in front of the fire hydrant by the time I get to her.

I reach for her hair and pull it back from her face.

“I hate you.” She lets out a strangled sob that chips away at my icy heart.

“I know.” I adjust my grip on her hair so I can capture a few loose strands that were hanging in her eyes.

“You taking care of me right now changes nothing.”

I tighten my hold. “Wasn’t expecting it to.”

“I’m aiming for your precious little Ferragamos next.”

“They’re far from little, but be my guest. I deserve it and worse.”

My comment seems to set her off in the worst possible way.

I’m surprised Lily has anything left in her system, but she manages to vomit again. She doesn’t spin around and shoot for my shoes like promised, but a bit splatters against the handmade Italian loafers.

Obsessive thoughts about cleanliness rise to the forefront, waging a war against my better judgment.

My inner voice is loud and intrusive as it says, She could pass that sickness along to you.

She’s drunk, not sick, I try to reason.

Are you absolutely sure, though? What if she passes something along and you’re bedridden for weeks?

Weeks? That’s ridiculous.

I’m ripped away from the conversation happening inside my head when Lily turns away from the hydrant and teeters before reaching for my thigh. Her touch is innocent, only meant to catch her balance, but heat courses through my body.

She sags against me. “I think I’m done.”

I don’t entirely believe her. “You sure?”

“I hope so, but there’s only one way to find out.”

See? She’s still not feeling well, so it can’t be the alcohol.

Oh, fuck off, I reply to myself.

I release the makeshift ponytail I made. I doubt she wants her hair in her face right now, so I gently remove the hair tie from her wrist and pull it back—something I’ve never done for another woman before.

I ignore why that is and say, “I’m going to run inside the bar and get you some water.”

“Okay.”

I pluck her hand from my thigh, ignoring the electricity shooting across my skin as I direct her toward a bench. “Stay.”

“Wasn’t planning on going anywhere.”

I rush inside Last Call, ignoring the people gathered around the window who witnessed Lily’s incident. Their attention is redirected to me as I head over to the bar for a cup of water.

The bartender tries to offer me the smallest plastic cup, so I toss a hundred-dollar bill on the counter and ask him to fill up a large plastic pitcher instead. Someone seated at the bar hands me a few sticks of gum, and I take them with a quick thanks before heading outside with Lily’s water.