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This book is dedicated to me,
because hello, I’m fucking fabulous
and I deserve it. ~ Robbie
Chapter One
CONFESSION
If there’s a bad decision to make, I will make it.
DRUNK-DIALING IS never a smart move. But drunk-dialing a married man? That is a monumentally stupid move.
That was the thought rolling around Robbie’s muddled brain as he stood with his best friend Elliot at the bar of CRUSH and tossed back his fourth Bitter Bitch. The conversation he was having with himself wasn’t a new one—or a welcome one, he thought as he swayed on his feet and kind of stumbled into the stool beside him. But forgetting his lonely life with alcohol and men who were all wrong for him seemed like an increasingly good way to cope tonight.
The hum and throb of the bass beat was rattling through him, but instead of feeling the pull he usually did to head out to the dance floor and have fun, tonight it seemed to be having the opposite effect. It was making him think really stupid thoughts.
“You’re so wasted, Bianchi,” Elliot said as he grabbed Robbie’s arm and guided him to the barstool. “What’s that? Your third shot? And how many margaritas did you have at dinner?”
Robbie held up two, then three fingers, and shrugged. “Who cares? Everyone had their New Year’s on Sunday. Tonight’s mine, and I want to celebrate.”
“If you celebrate any more, you aren’t gonna remember your first night out of the New Year.”
“Don’t care,” Robbie said, as he waved his hand through the air with flourish and leaned a little too much into the action. Luckily, Elliot was there to prop him up. “I wanna have fun tonight. Do something I shouldn’t.”
Elliot leaned his elbows back on the bar so he was facing the dance floor and said, “Why don’t you get out there and let someone do you instead? You look gorgeous tonight, darling.”
He’s right, I do look cute, Robbie thought.
In his skinny jeans and purple V-neck tee that was practically a second skin, Robbie had gone all out with smoky eyes and a new pink shade of gloss he’d bought a couple of days ago that tasted like—mmm, strawberries. He could totally hit the dance floor, find a willing man, and let him do all kinds of things. But that seemed so boring tonight, so normal, and so not what he wanted.
He wanted wild. He wanted adventure. He wanted danger. And when the two men he knew were both those things entered his mind, Robbie quickly shook his head, trying to shake them free.
Stop thinking about them, he ordered himself, but that was easier said than done. One of them was one of the sexiest men he’d ever seen, and the other the most frustrating—and what was worse was that he couldn’t have either of them even if he wanted to. What was with everyone being fucking married all of a sudden? And to each other?
But oh the dreams he’d been having lately. The three of them, all sweaty and naked; they were enough to make him want to—
No, no, no. That is the worst idea you could have, Robbie told himself. Drunk or sober.
Worst.
Idea.
Ever.
Plus, you don’t even like one of them. So stop obsessing over it.
“Earth to Robbie…” Elliot said, waving a hand, and Robbie shrugged.
“I don’t know. I’m just not in the mood.”
“You’re not in the mood to grind all over a naked man? Okay, where the hell is my best friend and what did you do with him?” Elliot asked as he swept his black bangs out of his eyes.
“I don’t know.” Robbie slumped forward on the bar, dramatic as ever, and looked up at Elliot from under his lashes. “I think I’m in a state of mourning, El, and I don’t know how to get out of it.”
Elliot frowned. “Is this about Logan? I thought you were happy for him and Tate?”
“I am, but— Ugh. They just got engaged, and now all of a sudden, he’s married. Married.”
“I know, babe. But you knew it was coming.”
“Doesn’t make it any easier. Knowing there are two more beautiful men off the market forever due to a ring and a piece of paper is just depressing.”
“Two more men?” Elliot said, regarding him with a suspicious eye. “Who else do you know who’s hitched?”
Julien, Robbie instantly thought, as an image of the famous chef came to mind.
Julien “the Prick” Thornton. And this time, as Julien’s name ran through Robbie’s head, he made a point to roll the Jul over his tongue the way Julien had when he’d introduced himself that night at the bar. That’s right…Julien “I’m gay, gorgeous, and, oh yeah, married to your worst enemy” Thornton. He was hitched.
“No one,” Robbie said, and pouted. Then he swiveled on the stool to look out at the men gyrating all over one another. “You go and play for the both of us. I’m going to sit here and—”
