“Then why is your headband on backwards?” a deep voice asks from behind us.
We all turn and Olivia lets out a squeal of delight. In seconds, she’s flinging herself at her fiancé, who immediately wraps his arms around her. With her heeled boots, she’s nearly the same height as him.
“I missed you,” she tells him, though they saw each other a few hours ago.
“Missed you more,” Cam says, planting a smacking kiss on her lips. He grins down at her and I swear, love shines from every pore on that man’s face. He loves Olivia loudly, and we love him for it.
Tonight, though, he might be loving her just a littletooloudly. His hands slide down to her ass and squeeze, and our group lets out a mixture of choked laughs and groans.
“On that note, I’m going to take a potty break,” Gail announces, slipping away from our group and heading toward the back of the bar.
“Oops,” Cam says sheepishly, though he doesn’t look the least bit sorry. I think he might be just as drunk as our bride tonight.
The rest of their group – Ty, Noah, Ethan, a few of Cam’s buddies from work, and a cousin or two – gather around us at the bar and say their hellos. A round of quick introductions is made, but I’m distracted, scanning the room for the only face I want to see right now.
I’m on my second scan of the room when my gaze snags on a tall, tattooed man weaving his way through the crowd between the door and the bar. At least a head taller than most people in here, he’s easy to spot as he shoulders his way past a rowdy group of guys, scanning the room the way I had just been. When his gaze lands on me, hissmile is immediate and wide. It sends a pang straight to my heart, the way he smiles so easily these days. I’d been surprised to learn he even has a dimple beneath his left eye. I wish I was close enough to see it now.
I watch Declan zig-zag through the crowd and finally emerge by my side. It scares me a little bit, how right he feels there. Like an essential puzzle piece fitting into place.
I blame the alcohol for the way I blatantly check him out. The way my eyes rake over his denim-clad thighs, noting how his jeans hug him in all the right places. I want to reach out and run my hand across his stomach, feel the hard muscle that I know is there beneath his fitted white T-shirt. The dark gray, short-sleeved linen shirt that he’s left unbuttoned is one I haven’t seen on him before. It looks soft, and my hands itch to run my hands over his shoulders and feel it beneath my palms.
It’s dark enough that I can’t make out all the intricate designs on his arms and hands, or the one snaking up his neck, but I have them memorized by now. I’ve studied the black ink against the pale blue of my bed sheets as he told me the stories behind them. Some of them mean something special; others are simply designs he liked or chose on a whim. I know where each tattoo ends and the next one begins, because I’ve run my fingers and my mouth over them all, even the ones on his muscular thighs and the one on his elbow. In a short time, I’ve memorized every inch of this big, beautiful man who, for some inexplicable reason, has claimed the title of beingmine.
I think I’ve been doing a good job at hiding just how much that terrifies me. But when Declan steps closer and slides an arm around my waist, I can’t help the way my spine stiffens. It’s not Declan I’m shying away from – it’s the very crowded bar and the eyes that are bound to be on us.
I try not to make it obvious as I step out of his hold and look up at him. “Declan. Hi.”
His brow furrows slightly as he looks down at me, and his smile dims. The pang in my chest is for an entirely different reason this time.
I don’t know how to explain to him that the more time we spend together, the more my heart starts racing and panic starts clawing at my insides when we have any kind of audience or witnesses to our relationship. I don’t know how to explain why the thought of my love life becoming a spectacle again makes me want to stay single forever.
Hell, I’m not sure I even fully understand why I can sit with him on the couch talking all night long, but put us in a crowded bar and I freeze up if he so much as touches me in front of other people.
“Hey, you.” His dark eyes sweep over my face, searching for something. It still surprises me sometimes, how handsome he is. With his angular jaw covered in the slightest hint of dark stubble, his full mouth turned up into a perpetual smirk and lashes any woman would die for, he really is beautiful. I want so badly to rise up on my toes and kiss him, right here in the middle of this crowded bar.
But I don’t.
I can’t.
“What are you guys doing here?” Olivia asks, looking up at Cam. His arms are locked around her waist with her back pressed against his chest. She had never been the PDA type before meeting Cam, but those reservations went out the window long ago.
They’re disgustingly cute. And yeah, okay, I’m a bit jealous about the ease with which they fit together, neither one of them noticing or caring who’s paying attention to them. And why would they?They’ll be married in two days. They’re making it to that altar with the happy ever after waiting on the other side.
“Ty heard they have karaoke,” Cam explains, his chin resting on Olivia’s shoulder. “He wanted to show off.”
“This place could use an actual performance instead of… whatever this is,” Ty says, waving his hand toward the stage on the other side of the room. The woman clutching the microphone and wailing an off-key rendition of a Lady Gaga song emphasizes his point.
“Get in line, buddy,” Grace says, leaning over and poking his chest. “The ladies are going to knock the socks off this place. Shoes, too. Maybe even pants.”
“Nobody wants you removing their clothing, Grace,” Ethan drawls. The way he sways ever so slightly lets me know he’s just as drunk as the happy couple tonight.
“Really?” Grace fires back. “Could have fooled me when you were feeling me up while we made out in that coat closet. Seventeen-year-old Ethan wanted me to –”
“That was a dare,” Ethan cuts her off. Even in the dim bar lighting, I can see his face turning red. “And it was disgusting.”
“I think he wants to kiss her again,” Cam whispers to Olivia. Only he’s very drunk, and his whisper is more of a shout, and everybody in our group is now painfully aware that he just insinuated Ethan wants to kiss Grace.
“I haven’t had enough alcohol forthat,” Grace scoffs.
