Page 3 of Have To Be Mine

I had never felt so judged.

“You were looking for me?” she asked.

“My whole life,” I said with a nod. “The girl of my dreams.”

She rolled her eyes at me, no hint of a smile. “You don’t even know me. For all you know, I’m your worst nightmare.”

I leaned in closer to her. “If nightmares looked like you, they would be sweet dreams instead.”

She looked at me, one eyebrow raised. Still no smile on her full lips, painted a dark color that complemented her eyes. Her gaze ran slowly up and down my body. My pants got tighter.

She smiled finally and my cock twitched like it was waving a flag to announce its presence. I moved closer to her and she turned and walked away without a backward glance. It was clear she did not want me to follow her.

I stood there watching her go. What the hell was that?

“What can I get you?”

I noticed the bartender looking at me, pretending like he hadn’t just seen me get shut down by the brunette in blue. I appreciated the man’s professionalism. And my glass was damn near empty. Might as well lean into the evening ahead.

“Whiskey. Neat. And make it a double.”

The man chuckled and nodded.

While he fixed my drink, I watched my dream girl navigate through the crowd. I kept waiting for some kind of come-hither look that she would throw me. Some sign she wanted me to chase her. But I didn’t get it. She didn’t look back. Not once.

I took the whiskey and moved away from the bar. No matter how hard I tried to focus on other things, my eyes kept straying to the dark-haired beauty.

Sebastian and Bernadette were spinning slowly on the dance floor, entirely absorbed in each other. My brother pulled his bride in close, and she rested her cheek on his collarbone. He dropped his head and whispered something in her ear that made her smile.

I looked toward where the dark-haired woman had disappeared into the crowd and spotted her standing near the windows speaking with a well-dressed older couple.

One night. One perfect night with a woman who actually made me work for it.

I tossed my entire new drink back in three gulps, set the empty glass on a passing waiter’s tray, and considered my options. I could chase the woman who was not interested in me. Or I could make it easy on myself and find a girl who would appreciate me.

The brunette in blue glanced my way. Our eyes met for half a second before she turned back to her conversation. That half-second felt like a door closing.

I looked at Sebastian and Bernadette, still lost in their own world on the dance floor. Then at Briggs, who laughed with his wife near the cake table, his head thrown back, her eyes glistening with mirthful tears. Even Adrian, standing with Elizabeth and bouncing little Buck in his arms, looked content. His scowl from earlier softened around his wife and son.

They’d all settled. Found their places. Their people.

And here I was watching the woman of my dreams ignore me.

Screw it. If I can’t find love, I’ll take the next best thing.

2

KRISTA

I’d been watching Dash Blackwell for an hour. In that time he had spoken to eleven women, danced with two, and consumed three whiskeys. He didn’t look the least bit buzzed, which told me he handled his liquor well. Men like him usually did.

I held the martini in my hand and made small talk with total strangers, making it a point to never stay in the same spot for too long. Standing still would make me stand out. The martini gave me something to do with my hands, helped me blend in, and made me look like a perfectly ordinary wedding guest.

But I wasn’t drinking. Not really. The last glass had been nearly full when I placed it on a passing waiter’s tray.

I’d read all about Dash Blackwell prior to this evening. In my mind, the things women said about him had to be exaggerated. A rich playboy without a care in the world. A man who indulged in women the way some men sampled different vintages of wine.

Dash Blackwell was exactly what those women had claimed he was, and the asshole had the audacity to hit on me?