I'm man enough to admit when I make a mistake. I was in the wrong for the way I behaved at the wedding. In my drunken state, I reacted first and sought questions later. Even if Ava never wants to see me again, I still want the chance to say I’m sorry. I thought a hangover was the worst thing you could wake up with after a heavy night of drinking. But the guilt of knowing I was the cause of Ava’s tears beats that tenfold.
“Is Ava coming tonight?” I ask, gripping the cup in my hand tighter, trying to ignore the tremor shaking my hand.
With Hawke returning to Iraq tomorrow, Jorgie decided to throw him an impromptu going away party. I’m hoping Ava’s deep admiration for Hawke will entice her out of hiding.
“I wanna hope so, considering she’s already here,” Hawke replies, his tone amused.
My eyes rocket to his. There is no chance in hell he missed the eagerness in my reaction. “Where is she?”
He smirks against the rim of his beer. “In the kitchen, slamming down tequila shots like they’re lemonade.”
I bound out of my chair and am halfway across the deck before the word “kitchen” fully escapes his lips. I hear Ava’s laugh before I see her, a beautiful soulful giggle echoing down the hall. When I enter the kitchen, she acts like she doesn’t notice my presence, but I didn’t miss her posture straightening and her breathing pattern altering.
My pulse lowers, and for the first time in my life, panic grips my heart. Lifting a shot of tequila to her mouth, Ava downs it without bothering to lick the salt on her hand or suck on a wedge of lemon. My eyes shoot to the half-empty bottle sitting at the side of her hand.I hope that wasn’t a full bottle. If it was, she is going to cop it in the morning.
Jorgie’s eyes drift between Ava and me for several terrifying seconds. After making an excuse to leave, Jorgie scurries out of the kitchen, leaving me alone with Ava. It took Jorgie four days to talk to me after her wedding. That was a new record for Jorgie. If I didn’t agree to give her the CD from her twenty-first birthday party, I have no doubt her radio silence would still be in effect.
When Ava realizes we are alone, she snatches the bottle of tequila off the counter and ambles to the door. My hand shoots out to seize her wrist before she has the chance to exit. Although she remains facing the door, she doesn’t attempt to pull away from my embrace.
“I just want a chance to tell you how s--”
Before I can issue my apology, Hawke’s cousin and ex-frat brother, Aspen, enters the kitchen. He smirks a greeting at Ava and me before walking to the fridge to help himself to a bottle of beer. My jaw ticks as I impatiently wait for him to leave, my agitation provoked by his vivacious assessment of Ava’s body.
Once the kitchen door swings shut with Aspen behind it, I return my attention to Ava. Two seconds after Aspen leaves, another frat brother enters the kitchen.
Fuck my life!
Once we are joined in the small kitchen by another body, I realize the room housing the only fridge in the entire Hawke residence isn’t a suitable location for a deep and meaningful conversation. The hairs on Ava’s neck prickle when I lean in close to her side. I’m not going to lie, my chest puffed high at her reaction.
“We will finish this conversation later… in private.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you,” she sneers.
A soft moan spills from her lips when I flatten my palm across her stomach and pull her backwards until her back becomes flush with the front of my body. My cock stirs, stimulated by her closeness.
“I’m sorry for what I did, Ava. But until you hear me out, I’m going to become your new best friend,” I mutter into her ear.
Her neck twists and she looks up at me, gauging the truth of my threat.
“Fine,” she huffs, intuiting that I have every intention on following through with my threat. “But not here. Not now.”
“When?” I ask.
She pats her hands down her dress. “Oh, darn it, I forgot to bring my planner with me.” Her lips twist, and her shoulders rise as she inhales a dramatic breath. “I’ll have my people call your people; we’ll do lunch.”
I smirk. Even pissed, she can still make me laugh. That is a very rare find in a woman these days. Her sassy primadonna attitude dulls when I lift my pinkie into the air.
“Promise?” I ask, knowing Ava will never renege on a pinkie promise.
Through gritted teeth, she says. “I promise,” while accepting my gesture.
As hard as it is for me to do, I let her go.
* * *
“Don’t doanything you may regret in the morning,” says Hawke, taking the spare seat next to me.
“Who said I’m going to regret it?” I respond, peering down at my swollen knuckles.
