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Because I tried again yesterday. Tried to end it all. And failed.

Another shiver races through me along with the realization that the blanket isn’t in my hand.

I snap my fingers, impatient to get on with my new and highly enlightenedget-drunk-and-freeze-to-deathplan. A moment later, the weight of a fleece blanket drapes over my shoulders, enveloping me in unwanted warmth.

Manners dictate I should say thank you, but I don’t want to engage this man. He’s seen me at my most vulnerable. Besides Beth and my parents, no one else has seen that side of me.

So I walk away, just a few feet to where a large rock juts out of the water. The tide has receded a little, so I can sit on it without getting my feet wet. I perch and take another swig of champagne.

Then I hear him. He’s moving closer. Mr. Rusty Social Skills, as he called himself when I snarled at his eavesdropping in the kitchen, is clearly not into getting messages, even when they are spelled loud and clear.

“Are we really doing this?” I ask after a few more satisfying, but less than bracing, gulps.

“Looking at the stars? Yep. The Plough is particularly bright tonight.”

I hang my head, my soul weary and my body chilled to the bone. “Please. Don’t,” I whisper, my voice barely audible above the sound of crashing waves.

“We don’t have to talk about the stars. We can talk about the Pygmies in Africa. Do you know they fuck every day for the month of May, then don’t have sex for the rest of the year?” he imparts.

My head whips around. “That’s not true—” I realize, too late, what he’s done, snap my head back around and raise the bottle to my lips. “Fuck off. Seriously,” I growl. But that quick look has sparked a tiny curiosity. One I’m determined to hide.

“Can I at least apologize for the accidental eavesdropping?” he presses.

“Why is it important to you? You won’t see me again after tonight. You really don’t need to apologize for being inadvertently privy to the sorry state of my vagina. Go back to the party. Hell, you have my permission to share the gossip. With any luck, you can get my clit trending.”

He remains silent for several minutes, and I don’t know if he’s digesting the information or is stunned by my direct talk. I know most men find my brazen mouth a little off-putting. I’ve given up caring. I’ve given up caring about a lot of things lately.

“I don’t like parties. And the state of your vagina doesn’t interest me in the least,” he says finally.

My mouth drops open and I start to turn, increasingly intrigued against my will. I stop myself at the last moment and glare at the black, roiling sea.

“Then what do you want?”

“Maybe I’m curious to know why a beautiful, intelligent woman is determined to freeze to death during her best friend’s engagement party. And please don’t make crude references to your female parts. We both know this has nothing to do with sex.”

The certainty and confidence with which he says all this throws me for a second. A particularly brisk wind slashes across my face, bringing me back to myself.

“Since you don’t know me well enough to judge my intelligence, how about I just thank you for thebeautifulcomment and the blanket, and let’s be done with this conversation?” I stand, ready to move off again.

I sense him rise to his feet, hear him brush sand from his pants. “Is there any reason you won’t look at me, Keely?”

My breath catches slightly at the way my name sounds on his lips, then I steel my spine. This has gone on long enough. “Because I don’t want to talk to you. Nothing personal, but I really want to be alone. Even a guy with rusty social skills can surely compute such a simple request?” My voice is growing exasperated, and I resent him for that.

“I could leave, but then Zach would cut off vital parts of my anatomy I prefer to hang on to should anything happen to you. Bethany too, I’m guessing, although I don’t know her well enough to judge.”

A reluctant smile tugs at my lips as I think of my friend and her fiancé. But then I sober up. “What if I promise to just sit on this rock and enjoy my champagne?”

“Then I hope you won’t mind some silent company. We don’t need to talk. Hell, I won’t even ask how you know the mating habits of African pygmies, although I have a feeling it has something to do with the intelligent part.”

“Or maybe I’m addicted to the Discovery Channel?” I don’t bother to hide the snark in my voice. “I’m disappointed it takes so little to impress you.”

I gulp some more champagne and am heartened to see that half of it is gone. Great, maybe I’ll freeze to death quicker with three thousand dollars’ worth of champagne swishing around inside me.

“I didn’t say I was impressed.” The cadence of his voice tells me he’s smiling.

Fucker.

“I don’t care what you are, Rusty. All I care about right now is being left in peace.”