An hour later,I’ve closed up the store, and I’m making my way to The Rocking Horse with goosebumps on my arms from the chill and nerves churning up my stomach.
When I step inside the bar adorned with cobwebs, skeletons, and bats, the song “Disturbia” by Rihanna floods my ears. Same as every year, the place is packed with locals in freaky fancy dress, hoping to take home the “best costume” award and a free case of beer. I weave through the crowd, hunting for my date. Just thinking about him sends a pang of want to my stomach that’s stronger than any I’ve ever felt.
I’m really not sure what to do about it.
I’ve always felt certain about most things in life, but when it comes to Dylan King, I feel like I’m sailing through uncharted waters. I don’t know if I’m going to stumble upon an island paradise or sink to the bottom of the ocean.
“Jade?”
I spin around to find Nate squinting at my face like he can’t quite figure out if it’s really me.Oh, come on, man, I’m not that unrecognizable.
“How’d you guess?” I deadpan.
“I think it’s the hair,” he replies seriously. Nate’s dressed as a pirate in what I’m pretty sure is the exact same costume he wore last year.
“So, you’re Dorothy?” he guesses, lifting his beer bottle to his lips.
I make a wrong-answer buzzer sound. “I’m a creepy doll.” I twist my back to him so he can see the key.
A young guy dressed as a skeleton bumps my shoulder when he stumbles past, balancing three beers. He apologizes and continues on, and Nate shakes his head after him. “It’s not even nine, and the village idiots are already half-tanked. Did that guy look twenty-one to you? They better be checking IDs at the bar.” He frowns at the bartenders.
“I’m sure they are. Especially with the deputy sheriff here.”
Nate’s cheeks open into a smile like I just gave him the biggest compliment of his life.
“Anyway, speaking of the bar,” I mumble, “I’m gonna go get a drink.”
“I’ll get it,” he cuts in, stepping forward. “What are you having? A champagne for the lady?”
A large hand flattens over my upper back, and I instinctively turn into the firm body that steps close behind me. “Hi,” Dylan says near my ear, smelling like that lush soap he uses and sending a warm shiver of goosebumps across my neck.
“Oh, man, seriously?” Nate scoffs. “You came asme?”
Dylan laughs out loud. “Bit of a difference between a special tactical unit and a small town sheriff. Oops, my bad. I meant to saydeputysheriff.”
Nate grits out an angry sound, and I step between them before real blood is spilled on Halloween.
I look up at Dylan through my false doll lashes. “Should we go get drinks?”
“Yeah, Nate needs to catch up with all his friends.” He waves an arm at the empty space around the pirate, whose brows bunch tightly together.
I can’t help but feel bad for Nate, but then I remind myself how much of a douche he’s been to me with his quick temper and acid tongue. If he was nicer to be around, maybe we could’ve been friends. I force my focus back on my date, who leads me toward the bar with a protective hand fused to my back.
I rest my elbows against the bar and run my eyes over Dylan’s sexy uniform while he orders us two Bloody Mary cocktails. His feet are encased with thick black boots and a baton swings from the belt of his padded vest.
Standing on my toes, I bring my lips close to his ear. “Is that a baton in your pocket, Officer, or are you just happy to see me?”
He turns his head, his electric-blue eyes locking on mine. “Oh, I’m very happy to see you.” He leans closer as my cheeks flush warm. “Are we doing bad pick-up lines again? Because I’ve got one.” He runs his gaze down the length of me, lowering his voice. “Hey, baby-doll. You gonna let me play with you?” Heat licks up my spine at the hunger in his gaze.
While the bartender pours our cocktails, Dylan’s fingers fold around the key that’s poking from my back. “Is this how I turn you on?” he asks with a gleam in his eye. He gives the key a little tug, using it to maneuver me even closer to him. “Yeah, I think we could play some interesting games with this.”
The bartender pushes the two cocktails toward us in the nick of time. My burning attraction to Dylan—especially in that thirst trap of a uniform—almost has me sweating, but I don’t want tonight to be only about that. And he may have had a similar thought because he puts a little distance between us and carries our cocktails over to a pair of empty stools beside the jukebox.
“Do they still do that ‘best costume’ competition here?” he asks as I settle beside him.
“Oh, yeah. Who do you think is gonna take home the blue ribbon tonight?”
“The sexy doll.”
