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I make it a single step before he stops me.
“Tell me what you want then, Penelope.” The plea in that low whisper threatens to unravel my resolve. “Whatever it is, it’s yours.”
With my heart slapping against my sternum, I take a step back, then another. “I want something you can’t give me.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Logan
Azúcar’s outdoor club is massive. A crowded dance floor flickers with colorful lights that flash and move in time with the music while beside it, people bounce beach balls and flamingo inflatables to each other inside an oval-shaped pool.
Carrie’s caught me watching them dancing a few times now, telling me to fuck off with her piercing glances, but I can’t take my eyes off Penelope tipsily flitting around, head thrown back with laughter that gives her a radiant glow.
Scattered palm trees sway beneath a starless, indigo-hued sky as I take a sip of vodka from my glass.
Dad says alcohol weakens the mind, and normally, I’d agree. But we both know my greatest weakness was, and always will be, Penelope.
My father never cared for her. He claimed she was too eccentric and nothing more than a distraction. And no matter how hard I tried to hide my affection for her, he saw right through me.
The girls cling to each other, stumbling and giggling with their friends, but it’s Pen who has everyone’s attention in all that sexy, body-hugging leather.
She peeks at our private booth, capturing my stare for half a second before quickly glancing away.
“That was some real dickhead shit you pulled the other morning,” I say to Declan over the thumping bass.
The brunette sucking on his neck pauses long enough for him to lean closer.
“You mean, prodding you into action?” He gestures between me and Penelope.
“Is that what you’re calling it?”
“Oh, please. You can’t be mad at me, and you know it. Besides, watching you pine after that woman makes me nauseous.”
“Careful,” I warn as he politely extracts himself from the woman’s tentacle-esque grip.
“I hate to be the one to tell you this—”
“Then don’t,” I cut him off, but if there’s one thing Declan’s good at, it’s not shutting up when I want him to.
He grins. “If I didn’t know better—and, for the record, I do—I’d say you’re still in love with her.”
I bring the glass to my lips again for no other reason than to keep my hands busy.
Am I attracted to her? Undeniably. Do I want her all to myself? Without a fucking doubt. But in love with her…? That would be unfortunate for us both if it were true.
The music changes tempo, and the people inside the pool—some in bathing suits, some fully clothed—jump up and down to the beat, splashing those dancing around the edge. Laughing loudly, Pen crouches and splashes them back.
I turn to my friend. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“All right.” He clicks his tongue, shifting so the woman can crawl into his lap. “So you wouldn’t care if, let’s say, some guy in here were to make a move on her?”
“Not at all,” I lie.
He shrugs, gripping the woman’s waist as she rolls against him. “Great. No need to worry about the asshole making a move on her right now, then.”
My head whips back to where I last spotted Penelope. Lights flash around the club with the increasing beat as Pen and Carrie’s friends surround them. They’ve moved to a high-top table at the outer edge of the dance floor, swaying absently while they chat, but my sight snags on the man I saw her with that night at Tipsy Tides.
He moves in close, getting good and comfortable beside her.
