Her knee bumped Stephanie’s under the bar, accidental and electric. Casey pulled back immediately, pulse hammering against her throat while the jukebox shifted into something slow and bluesy.
She shouldn’t want this. Wanting only led to disappointment—to something real that vanished when reality intruded. But Stephanie’s laugh pulled at her, and for a moment Casey imagined what it might feel like if Stephanie wanted her back.
13
Stephanie nursed the second Painkiller. The rum and pineapple slid down easy after the sharp bite of nutmeg grated across the top. The bar’s low lights softened every edge, turning the cracked leather booths into warm shadows and the mirrored backbar into a haze of reflected glasses and quiet laughter.
Casey sat so close her tan pants brushed the rung of Stephanie’s stool, the black halter top leaving a strip of sun-darkened skin visible above the waistband every time she shifted. Stephanie’s own chinos suddenly felt ordinary next to that effortless confidence, and the green blouse clung damply to her back from the humidity, a small reminder that she had tried tonight.
Nico had been exactly what Casey described: handsome, friendly, moving through the courtyard like every table wanted a piece of him. Stephanie had watched him from a distance, appreciative but detached. No racing pulse. No stirring low in her stomach. Gary had never pulled that from her either, not in twenty years, but she had always told herself marriage simply settled passion into something quieter and more reliable.
Now the indifference stung sharper. Something was missing in her wiring.
Casey leaned in, voice low enough to stay just between them under the low base of the music. “I didn’t mean for it to happen, but Nico kind of assumed we were together. Then you came back from the bathroom, and I didn’t want to blurt out that we weren’t actually on a date. I’ll make sure to correct it next time I see him though.”
The words brushed warm against Stephanie’s ear. Heat flashed across her chest. Her fingers tightened around the sweating glass.
The idea that Casey had let Nico believe they were on a date should have embarrassed her. Instead it bloomed low and alive, pushing warmth down her arms until even her fingertips felt it. She had no name for the feeling. It made her want to laugh and disappear at the same time.
“Because I’m older?” The question slipped out before she could catch it.
Casey’s mouth curved, not quite a smile. “Well, yes. And…” Her hand moved in a single easy sweep from Stephanie’s face down across the green blouse and chinos, casual as breathing. “I may have a type.”
Stephanie’s stomach dropped, a warm, sudden plunge that left her breathless for two full heartbeats.
The gesture had been so offhand, yet it landed somewhere behind her ribs and stayed there, pulsing. Her pulse beat too hard against her throat while the mirrored backbar blurred at the edges of her vision.
Nico had done nothing to her all evening. Handsome, kind, successful, everything a woman her age was supposed to want, and her body had answered with perfect, polite indifference.
One sweep of Casey’s hand sent heat spiraling through her like she had swallowed sparks. So many years of telling herself this was how desire worked...
Something was wrong with her. A cold, sharp certainty settled in her stomach, opening a space inside her chest she hadn’t known existed.
Casey took a sip, eyes drifting across the room before returning. “Oh. Um… there’s a woman across the room who’s interested in you.”
The words hit her with unexpected force. Stephanie’s breath caught. Her stomach tightened in a quick, involuntary clench. Another woman. Interested. In her.
The phrase should have felt absurd.
Instead it sent a strange adrenaline racing under her skin, making her fingers tremble against the cold glass. She lifted it fast, the sweet burn of rum sliding down before she could reconsider. She drank again, needing the alcohol to blunt whatever this feeling was becoming.
“She’s wearing all white. Corner table with the redhead. Black hair.”
Stephanie’s gaze flicked that direction before she could stop herself. Her heart gave a hard thud. “How do you know she’s not interested in you?”
Casey’s mouth curved into something dry. “She’s my ex.”
The floor seemed to tilt beneath her sandals. Stephanie’s chest squeezed tight, a visceral punch that left her short of breath. The rum buzzed louder in her ears. Casey’s ex.
The words dragged the memory of that first night flooding back, the warm evening light on the pool, the easy kiss she had told herself she had forgotten. Heat climbed her neck. She set the glass down too hard.
Adrenaline surged, strange and electric, pushing words out before her better sense could stop them.
“Maybe we should stick with people thinking we’re together.” Her voice came out raw. “That way no one will approach me.”
Casey’s blue eyes widened, shock flashing clear in the low light. The expression made Stephanie’s stomach drop again, sharper this time.
“Oh shit. Sorry.” Heat flooded her cheeks. “That would also keep women away from you. I wasn’t thinking.”
