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In other words, it was a nice evening of hanging out with the guys. No work. No pressure. No drama. Just the way I liked things.
Gabe was starting to make his excuses to leave when long blonde hair and legs that went on for days snagged my attention. I turned to the bar to see the blonde, bent over slightly as she leaned against the rich wood surface. She was wearing a short sundress, which showcased her tanned legs beautifully and did wonders for her ass.
Her hair was in thick curls down her back, hitting midway, and would look perfect wrapped around my fist.
I was about to tell the guys goodnight and go make a play when I heard her very familiar laugh and saw her turn in profile to talk to someone next to her.
“Shit,” I muttered, turning back to my beer as I tried to erase the dirty thoughts I’d just had about Laurel from my mind.
“What’s wrong?” Reardon asked, turning in his booth to look behind him. “What, Laurel? You need to get over that, man. That shit happened when you were kids. She’s an adult now, and she could use all the friends she can get.”
“What does that mean?” I asked, wondering what he knew that I didn’t, and why I couldn’t shake the image of her ass from my brain.
“Not my story to tell,” Reardon responded, then he and Gabe both stood. “I need to head out, too. My girl’s craving some mint chocolate chip, so I need to hit the store on the way home.”
“Whipped,” I quipped, even though I was beginning to realize how lucky both my cousins were.
“You know it,” Reardon returned with a grin, not offended in the least.
“You heading home?” Gabe asked.
“Nah, I’m going to stick around for a bit,” I replied, having just spotted a good-looking brunette, whose face I hadn’t seen practically every day of my formative years, glancing my way as she sipped a margarita.
Gabe followed my gaze and joked, “No glove, no love.”
To which I replied, “Never doubt it.”
6
Laurel
It felt like I’d been punched in the stomach, and my throat was burning, as I watched Dillon walk out of the bar guiding a gorgeous brunette with his hand on the small of her back.
I always fooled myself into thinking it would get better, but it never failed to hurt anytime I saw Dillon with another woman. It didn’t matter if I was with someone else, or if I knew he was going to be somewhere with a date, it freaking killed each and every time.
“Would you like another, Laurel?” Shane, the bartender, asked. And not even the sexy cadence of his Australian accent eased the pain in my gut.
“Uh, yeah,” I began, tearing my eyes away from the now closed door to look at the devilishly handsome Aussie. His dirty-blonde hair had grown out quite a bit, making him look like the quintessential surfer. “How about another margarita and a shot of Patron on the side?”
“You got it,” Shane said with a wink.
Why can’t I forget about Dillon and go for Shane? I asked myself, leaning across the bar to get a better view of his ass. But, although it was magnificent, there was nothing there. No zip, zing, or tingle when I looked at Shane.
Sometimes his accent gave me a tingle, but it was nothing like the electric current I felt whenever I was around the boy who’d been in my dreams since elementary school.
“Whatchya gettin’?” Jasmine asked as she shoved in next to me.
Jasmine was my girl, my bestie, the person I told everything, even what an ass Travis had been. She’d tried to get me to leave him years ago, but I wouldn’t listen, always thinking I knew him better. But, I couldn’t tell her about my feelings for Dillon.
Once, when we were in high school, Karla Jenkins, a girl we’d been friends with for over
a year, had come to Jasmine’s house and we’d found her kissing Dillon on the back porch. Jazzy had lost her mind and cut Karla out of her life. She’d said a friend should know better than to go after her brother, and had felt like Karla used her just to get close to Dillon.
I’d known then that I’d take the secret of my feelings for Dillon to the grave.
Jasmine was the most important person in my life, and there’s no way I’d do anything that could possibly make me lose her.
Luckily, it was a moot point, since Dillon didn’t even like me as a friend, let alone want to lock lips, or anything else, with me. So, my secret crush had remained just that, and I’d spent the years grateful to be Jasmine’s person, even as I longed for Dillon to look at me differently.
