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“There’s no time for that!” she shrieks before composing herself again. “Where. Are. You?”
“Jordan just dropped me at Mom’s, why?”
She curses under her breath. “I was hoping I’d catch you together.”
“Nicole, what’s going on?” The hair on the back of my neck stands up.
She ignores my question for one of her own. “Did he seem off before he left?”
“Everything was fine.” I skip past the mind-blowing orgasm he gave me and go straight to what happened after. “Then his aunt called with some kind of emergency, so he dropped me at Mom’s and left.”
“Does his aunt know about the whole ‘get laid’ plan?”
“I don’t know, maybe?” A rumble of distant thunder sends a shiver down my spine. “Why is that important?”
“You need to check Eve’s blog.”
The tingle explodes into a sharp prickle, and my stomach does a backflip, twisting in on itself. “Okay, now you’re freaking me out.”
“Kennedy, you need to trust me,” Nicole urges, drawing my attention to her.
Despite everything, I do trust her. She may have her moments, but she’s still my best friend.
“Go to Eve’s blog. Please don’t hate me when you do. I promise I had nothing to do with this. I give Keller more than his share of shit, but I’d never do something like that to get back at him.”
My blood turns to ice. “You’re scaring me.”
“I’m sorry.” Her voice cracks. “I really am. Go look. We’re wasting time. You need to talk to him before he sees.” The call goes dead before I can ask her anything else.
Without wasting another second, I bring up the Eve’s Orchid website. My heart drops into my stomach, and I’m thankful I haven’t eaten yet. The images on the screen are enough to make me lose my lunch, but the headline is even worse.
Why Choose One When You Can Have All Three?
Below the tawdry headline are three photos. One of me holding hands with Grant, gazing into his eyes as we walk to the Beanery, one of me kissing Jordan at the bottom of the zip line, and one of Elijah kissing me on the boat.
Nicole was right. This is horrible. I knew Eve’s would be teasing the feature, but not like this. The images were shot in the most salacious way possible—making it look like I was passing out free samples on every date! Especially the picture with Elijah. It’s bad enough he kissed me to begin with, but the photographer found a way to twist an innocent moment caught out of context into something not safe for work. And how the hell did they get that shot to begin with? Was there a photographer with a telephoto lens stationed on another boat in the marina, or was I too distracted to notice drones doing flybys?
I need to talk to Jordan—to explain what happened before he sees the pictures.
I dial his number, and it rings several times before he picks up. “Jordan, I—”
“I can’t talk now.” He doesn’t sound angry, but he hangs up before I can get a word in.
“Damn it!” My head spins with one horrible scenario after another. Has he seen the photos? Will he even give me a chance to explain before refusing to speak to me ever again?
My phone buzzes with another text, this time from Elijah. Can we talk?
I ignore his message. There’s far too much going on to worry about Elijah’s hurt feelings. I hold out hope that whatever Jenny needed is related to her coffee shop, or some other nonemergency. Not me. Not photographic evidence of Elijah and me engaging in what looks like foreplay.
Impatience gets the best of me, and I send a message to Jordan. Call me as soon as you finish with Jenny.
I don’t know what I expect from him, but it isn’t silence. I definitely don’t expect him to completely ignore me. But he does. And when I call the Beanery looking for him, Jenny bites my head off before hanging up.
My stomach rumbles almost painfully, reminding me I haven’t eaten in hours. But how could I possibly eat when I can’t even breathe? When I have no idea what Jordan’s thinking. When my heart is being ripped out, piece by devastated piece. And the more time that passes, the more I lose all hope of salvaging those tattered pieces.
Giving in to the overwhelming urge to wash off the shame, I grab a quick shower, changing into a pair of utilitarian underwear and my favorite worn T-shirt and faded jeans.
Mom comes home after sundown to find me still pacing the living room floor, waiting for the call I fear isn’t coming.
