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A quick glance to my left shows Austyn’s mother is just as shocked. She leaves her husband’s side to dash over to her brother and greet him warmly. Meanwhile, I’m scanning the entrance frantically to see if someone else is behind him. I mean, he would have told me, wouldn’t he?
I give it a few minutes before I send a text.
Fallon:
Mama Paige. Uncle Ollie. What? No Uncle E?
Ethan:
Not tonight.
Fallon:
No?
Ethan:
I won’t be there. I already have plans.
Fallon:
Sorry to bother you.
Ethan:
You’re never a bother, Fal.
Fallon:
Except when you’re out on a date?
Ethan:
Fal... no.
Fallon:
Pretty bad timing on my part, Ethan. Sorry.
I slip my phone back into my clutch and lift my cosmopolitan to my lips, contemplating my text to Ethan. It’s not jealousy, I assure myself. It’s about being here for Austyn’s birthday when three years ago... I shudder in recollection.
Still, as much as I would love to have seen Ethan and my enduring hots for the man, I’m not pining away at Seven Virtues University. My lips twitch when I think about the scorching hot sex I had with my TA last semester after I agreed to model nude for one of his art studies classes. I wonder if the art department is aware the abstract they so revere is not tantamount to Saint Augustine but more an “oh my god, more” religious experience.
No one with Ethan Kensington’s looks should be without sex—good sex, I amend. I lift my glass in a silent toast he gets some. Since I first met him, I’d have to be blind not to notice how fucking gorgeous the man is. Who cares that he’s twenty years older than me? Hot is hot, and the man has the face of a rugged Hollywood star combined with the body of a rodeo god. Truth is, Jesus wept when he made Ethan Kensington because he knew he wouldn’t be on the earth long enough to bang him.
I giggle at my train of thought, drawing the attention of several of the people milling about to celebrate my girl’s birthday, including—holy bat shit—country music star Brendan Blake. Turning away from the revelry, I saunter over to the bar where a behemoth of a man named Louie is manning the station for the night.
Winking at me as I approach, he immediately begins pulling the ingredients together for my next cosmopolitan as soon as my glass hits the leather counter. As I wait for my next drink, I wonder what Ethan might think of this crowd. Music legends, lawyers, doctors, and, well, me. Another bubble of laughter escapes.
If he’s not pissed at me for cock blocking him, I’ll text him later in the week and tell him the details.
Louie sets my drink in front of me before his eyes dart over my head. An arm slides around my shoulders, and I twist to meet Ollie’s familiar green eyes. His gaze drops to the drink in front of me before he shakes his head. “Where did the small-town girl I know go?”
I back away and hold out a hand. “Have we met? I’ve never been a ‘nice’ girl.”
He jerks my hand and wraps me in an enormous hug. “It’s good to see you, Fal.”
“You too, Ollie,” I tell him honestly. We chat back and forth for a few minutes before he mentions his assigned role is to get pictures for Austyn. He leans over the bar and yells, “Hey, Louie. You mind?”
