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“High but not really dry,” Lanie said, schooling her expression to utter seriousness.
They remained silent for about two seconds before they both dissolved into a fit of giggles.
Damn tequila.
“Okay, great, so he’s an excellent kisser. Score one point for Wes.” Aimee pointed a finger at her. “But why did he say that to you? Why did he leave you? Any other chick, he would’ve jumped her.”
Lanie frowned. “Maybe he thought I was a terrible kisser and hustled out of there before he had to endure any more of it.”
“Oh stop it, would you?” Aimee drained her glass then held it up, shaking it so the ice rattled. “Another round please?” she called to the waitress who nodded and smiled in response.
“Are you trying to get me drunk?”
“Listen, you’re the one who started the loose lips thing once you got a drink in you. Maybe you’ll confess more.” Aimee grinned.
“That’s all I’ve got.” She didn’t even want to go into the my-thoughts-are-constantly-full-of-Wes admission. It was bad enough she had shared what happened in the closet. “I should pretend it never happened, huh?”
“Nooo. No way. You need to seek him out. Ask him what the hell.” Aimee pounded the table with her fist, causing their empty glasses to shake. “Men. They act like weird little babies sometimes, I swear.”
“Ask him what the hell—what? How am I supposed to approach him?” Nerves beat at her stomach like a million little tiny fists. She couldn’t go up to Wes at work, tap him on that impossibly broad, impossibly hard as a rock shoulder and ask him what gives. He’d probably barely look her way then completely ignore her.
No way would she walk into that sort of humiliation. The closet incident was bad enough.
“Flirt with him, say you want to have sex with him, give him a blow job, whatever.” Aimee was on a roll now—and more than just a little drunk. “Then dump him.
Like get his jeans down around his knees then leave him hard and hurting. Oh, yeah.” Aimee collapsed into uncontrollable laughter, and Lanie could only shake her head. Her friend had completely lost it. She was being so silly they were drawing the attention of other people in the bar.
Including the attention of a group of guys they worked with.
And in that group stood…
Oh, Lord it couldn’t be. But it was.
Wes was staring at her with those intense green eyes, clutching a bottle of beer in his firm grip. He kept his gaze locked on hers as he brought the bottle to his mouth and took a healthy swig.
A cold sweat broke out all over her skin, and she visibly shivered. He noticed, she saw the arch of his dark brows, the way his lips parted. They were damp, probably from the beer and she had the sudden and inexplicable urge to run over to him and lick them.
Taste him.
“He’s here,” she squeaked.
Aimee stopped laughing. “Who?”
“Wes,” Lanie hissed, tearing her gaze from his to glare at Aimee. “We need to leave.”
“We’re so not leaving.” Aimee rubbed her hands together gleefully. “Go over there right now and talk to him. Do it like we planned.”
“No way.” Lanie shook her head.
“Do it!” Aimee shoved her, practically sending her stumbling out of the curved booth seat.
“Ow.” Lanie rubbed her arm, smiling weakly at the approaching waitress who brought their drinks.
“Yummy.” Aimee grabbed her drink and sipped from it. “This must be my last one. I think I’m tipsy.”
“More than tipsy.”
“Whatever. Now go over there. Flirt with him. Whisper naughty words in his ear, get those sexy jeans down around his ankles and then leave him in
