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“Maybe.”
“Well, the guy’s too old for you, so forget it.”
“He’s like twenty-nine, West. Hardly too old for me.” He laughed again and leaned his shoulder into mine. “Think I should go over there and introduce myself?”
“Fuck you,” I muttered, standing up. “He’s thirty. By the way, next time you put a rum and Coke in an empty soda, don’t use a Sprite bottle.”
Cal looked down at the brown liquid in the green-labeled bottle and winced before flicking his eyes over to where Hudson stood talking to Nurse Darci. Hudson hadn’t noticed Cal’s faux pas yet, so Cal had time to fix his mistake. He scurried over to the coolers to find something else to put his drink in.
As I made my way to where Stevie and Nico were standing, I was stopped by several people offering condolences on the loss of Adriana. Some gave me hugs, some clapped me on the back and told me they were glad to see me at the bonfire. Every single one of them made side-eyes at Nico and tried to talk to me about “the brother” being back in town. Not one of them seemed to have anything nice to say, and they all seemed to think he was a punk.
Which set my teeth on edge, because I knew that I, too, had assumed he was a punk when he first arrived. I, too, hadn’t given him any credit for having a heart or respect. But when I’d seen him break down and cry for his family, I realized there was more to him than I could begin to imagine. I was hit with the tardy reminder that you couldn’t judge a book by its cover and why in the hell had I allowed myself to fall prey to that immature behavior in the first place? I knew better.
With the anger, frustration, and desire all churning inside me, I was a time bomb just waiting to be set off.
By the time I got to Nico, just the sight of him was a soothing balm. I wanted to walk straight into his arms and lose myself in his warm skin—skin that smelled like coffee and raspberries and clean baby. I wanted him desperately.
And it was time to take what I wanted.
Chapter 13
Nico
I was standing in a small group of people, being flirted at aggressively by Stevie. While I appreciated being the center of someone’s positive attention, the guy was doing absolutely zero to my dick. On top of that, I was beginning to recognize people I’d gone to school with, and every single one of them studied me like I was a bug pinned to a display board.
And of course Curtis Billingham was there. He kept shooting hate lasers at me from his spot by the bonfire. I was surprised to learn from Stevie that Curt was dating a nice woman named Chloe. She was the petite red-haired woman who’d approached me earlier to ask me for Adriana’s chocolate-chip-cookie recipe. I’d politely refused, wondering idly how long it would take before she realized her boyfriend preferred his cookies with nuts.
Just as I was about to beg off and go home, I spotted a pissed-off Weston Wilde storming my way. The look on his face was downright feral, and he came at me like a stalking panther.
“I need to talk to you,” he said in a somewhat menacing tone. His eyebrows were furrowed, and his gaze was intense, like he was royally peeved about something. Whatever it was, it was clearly all my fault.
“No thanks.” I sighed, not wanting to deal with his surliness on top of everything else.
West froze for a beat before narrowing his eyes even further. I wondered idly if smoke might come trickling out of a nostril or ear canal.
“That wasn’t a question.” This time his voice was a deep rumble, the kind that had my dick finally waking up and realizing it was time for action. Fucking idiot dick.
Being bossed around by the highbrow doctor in front of the rest of the people our age in town set my teeth on edge. Two could play the asshole game.
“I don’t give a fuck. The answer is still no. Now go away. Stevie was just introducing me around. He said there were a few other guys here I needed to meet too. Your brothers, I think?”
Stevie had said no such thing, but I’d heard through the grapevine that West had several gay brothers, and I assumed at least one of the guys he’d come with tonight was one of them. Of course, they were all hella gorgeous. Like the genes had been bestowed upon their parents as gifts from the gods. I could see Doc’s genetics in the Wilde kids but not Grandpa Wilde’s, and I wondered not for the first time what their story was.
