3

Jennifer Clayton

“No, what about him?” I asked, my voice flat with disinterest, but Bellamy didn’t seem to notice.

“He’s moving,” she said with a little too much enthusiasm.

That got my attention. “Wait, where? And how do you even know this?”

I wasn’t sure why I cared. Maybe it was because she hadn’t grilled me for spacing out earlier or because the topic of boys could keep Bellamy distracted for hours, giving me a much-needed reprieve from my thoughts about her dad.

“California, I think,” she replied casually. “He told me in study hall the other day. Oh, and he asked me to give you his number.”

I rolled my eyes. “Let me guess—he wants one last shot before he leaves town forever? Hard pass. You know I’m not that kind of girl.”

Bellamy burst into laughter, shaking her head. “That’s not how it was with Dane last year.”

Her teasing struck a nerve, and I felt my face heat. My gaze darted toward the house, but thankfully, Vincent was nowhere to be seen. I let out a quiet sigh of relief.

Dane. God, I didn’t even want to think about him. He was my one mistake—the guy I shouldn’t have gotten involved with but did anyway. He’d been my first, and while he hadn’t been awful about it, the experience had left a sour taste in my mouth.

Mostly because, a week later, I found out he’d been with another girl. Bellamy had wanted to strangle him, but I’d let it slide, convincing myself it wasn’t worth the drama. Now, I regretted not kicking him where it hurt and walking away with my head held high.

“Dane doesn’t count, and you know it,” I muttered, my voice low.

Bellamy ’s playful smirk faded slightly, but she wasn’t done yet. “Look, I’m just saying—Ryder ’s a good guy. Maybe it’s time to let someone in again. Blow off some steam.”

“And you would know Ryder ’s so great because…?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I just do,” she replied with a shrug. Then, without giving me a chance to argue further, she added, “Anyway, let’s head inside. I think I’ve gotten enough sun for today.”

I followed her into the house, grateful for the escape from the heat, but as soon as we stepped into the kitchen, another kind of warmth enveloped me. The smell of tomato sauce, garlic, and fresh basil filled the air, making my stomach growl loudly.

Vincent was cooking.

Of course, he was. He always took his time in the kitchen, perfecting every detail of his meals like it was an art form. Spaghetti and meatballs, if I had to guess.

But he wasn’t here now.

He could be anywhere in this massive house.

Maybe in his bedroom.

Alone.

Waiting for me…

I clenched my fists, trying to shake the dangerous train of thought. Get it together, Jennifer . My thoughts had been spiraling all day, and it was starting to feel impossible to rein them in.

“Are you okay?” Bellamy ’s voice cut through my internal chaos, and I snapped back to the present.

“Yeah, why?” I asked quickly, trying to sound casual.

She narrowed her eyes, her grin turning mischievous. “You’re acting weird. And don’t think I haven’t noticed that you’ve been avoiding guys lately. What’s up with that?”

“Nothing’s up,” I said, grabbing a glass from the counter and filling it with water to give myself something to do. “I just haven’t met anyone worth my time.”

Bellamy rolled her eyes. “There’s no shortage of guys, Jennifer . It’s just you. Seriously, who would be worth your time?”

I froze for a second, trying to come up with an answer that didn’t scream your dad.

“Someone… older. Mature,” I said, keeping my tone light and vague.

Her grin widened, and she wiggled her eyebrows. “Older, huh? Like a professor or something?”

“Not that old,” I shot back, forcing a laugh.

“Uh-huh,” she teased. “Well, while you’re holding out for your silver fox, the rest of us are actually living our lives.”

I rolled my eyes. “Really? Who are you seeing, then?”

Her expression faltered for a moment before she shrugged. “Nobody serious. Just… you know, having fun.”

I raised an eyebrow, skeptical. “Who is he?”

“Doesn’t matter,” she said quickly, brushing past me to grab a plate from the cabinet. “You’re deflecting. We’re talking about you.”

“Not much to talk about,” I replied, taking a sip of water and leaning against the counter.

Bellamy sighed dramatically, shaking her head. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

I smirked but didn’t respond, grateful the conversation seemed to be winding down.

Just then, the sound of footsteps echoed down the hallway. My heart skipped a beat as Vincent appeared in the doorway, his shirt unbuttoned at the collar and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

“Dinner’s almost ready,” he said, his deep voice sending a shiver down my spine. His green eyes flicked to mine for a brief moment before shifting to Bellamy .

“Smells amazing,” Bellamy said, oblivious to the tension crackling in the air.

I stayed silent, gripping my glass tightly as I tried to keep my expression neutral.

“Jennifer , can you set the table?” Vincent asked, his gaze landing on me again.

“Sure,” I managed to say, my voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded, his lips curving into a small smile before he turned back toward the stove.

I exhaled slowly, my pulse racing as I grabbed the plates and silverware. As I moved around the kitchen, I couldn’t help but steal glances at him. The way his muscles shifted under his shirt, the ease with which he moved—it was enough to make my head spin.

Bellamy chatted away, completely unaware of the storm brewing inside me.

And as I placed the last fork on the table, I caught Vincent looking at me again. Just for a second, but it was enough.

Enough to make me wonder if I wasn’t the only one struggling to ignore whatever this was between us.