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Marcie.
“Oh my God!” she shouts excitedly when I give her a clear view of my face. “It is you! How wild! Seeing you out in the middle of such a big city like this!”
Something tells me it’s not as wild of a coincidence running into Marcie at the very bar I discussed meeting up with Brandon at during a phone call I took at the office as she’d like me to believe, but I can’t prove it, so I don’t bother bringing it up.
Plus, given the light my new situation has shed on the way feelings work, I’ve vowed to myself to be a little easier on her if I can manage it without leading her on.
“Hey, Marcie,” I say, keeping my voice friendly but neutral. “How’s it going?”
She toddles over on her heels and plops down in the seat directly across from me, a big, inebriated smile making its way to her glassy eyes. “It’s so good to see you.”
I glance to Brandon for some kind of help, but he’s too busy waggling his eyebrows and thrusting his hips like an asshole.
I truly don’t know why I expected anything different from him.
He’s a child in a man’s body, though he does have a heart of gold. That’s why I’m still friends with him after all this time, despite our very obvious differences. That, and he’s a good workout partner.
“So,” I venture, trying like hell to make polite conversation. “Are you having a good time?”
“Yes,” she coos, leaning forward and putting an unwelcome hand to my leg. I shift back in my seat to pull it out of her reach, but I do endeavor, at least, to be subtle about it. “Even better now.”
I nod. “Are you celebrating something or just out for fun?”
“I was just out for fun, but I’m thinking I should celebrate running into you.”
I swallow hard against my gag reflex and stand up. “I’ll, uh, be back. I think I’m going to get another drink.”
Normally, my ingrained sense of manners would make me offer to get something for other people, but right now, I’m more concerned with my own self-preservation.
I hate awkward conversations, and I hate having to be rude. I don’t want to be blunt with Marcie in a way that hurts her feelings, but I would really love it if she got a fucking clue on her own.
I signal to the bartender with a jerk of my chin, and he holds up one finger from the other end of the mahogany bar. I don’t come out all that much after work, usually preferring to go to a nice dinner or do an extra workout and relax, but when I do, I come almost exclusively to this joint. It’s a relaxed atmosphere, and aside from when coworkers stalk your phone calls and follow you here, people are low-key in their attention. No one crowds or bothers you unless you seek it.
Something bumps me in the back, jolting my stomach into the bar and making me turn around with hard eyes.
Marcie is there, teetering on her heels and giggling.
Oh God.
I want to walk away, right to the front door without looking back, so badly, but I don’t. Instead, I try yet again to make myself sympathetic enough to be gentle. “You okay?” I ask, turning around enough to set her away from my body. She sways, and my chin jerks forward to the stool behind her. “Maybe you should sit down for a minute.”
She shakes her head and launches herself against my chest. I catch her, as a means to keep us both from hitting the wood floor with a thud, and she takes the opportunity for all it’s worth, wrapping her arms around my shoulders. I put my hands to her hips in preparation to set her away, but she uses them as leverage and swings a leg up to wrap it around my own.
Her red hair seems orange, and the smell of her skin is nothing like I want it to be. The fake tan, the sky-high heels, the heavy makeup—it all feels like a desperate, cheapened version of the woman I really want in my arms.
Wild, naturally beautiful, unbelievably funny and fun…Carly Page.
The truth is, I miss her. And being this close to a woman other than her makes it all the more painfully obvious.
Nails scratch at my skin as the woman hanging all over me tries to drag my lips down to hers, and I pull back against her hold with steady pressure.
“Marcie, no. Stop.”
“Ryan—”
“I told you…I don’t date people I work with. Period. And I’m sorry to say this, and I never would have if you hadn’t pushed me to it, but I wouldn’t be interested in dating you even if we didn’t work together. You’re a nice person, Marcie, but for me, that’s where my feelings stop.”
