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“I don’t know, Dix, she approved wholeheartedly of mine already, but if you want to chicken out…”
“You do know she’s a bartender, right?” I ask Dylan.
“What?” He stares at Dixie. “You bartend?” She winks at him. “Pass me a taste.” He beckons with his fingers, palm up, indicating he wants a drink right this second.
Dixie pours with a flourish and then slides the glass across the granite. Dylan downs a large gulp. “Fuck me, that’s exceptional. You’re hired.”
“Wrong. I’m here to enjoy this party.” To prove her point, she tosses back a shot.
“I meant at The Cabana. I’m down a bartender and could seriously use your help.”
She puts a hand on her hip, arches her brows. “You seriously can’t afford me.”
“Come by the club tomorrow morning and we’ll talk.” He takes another sip of his drink. “I can sweeten the deal with a fringe benefit.”
“Dylan, I’m sure your benefits are impressive”—sarcasm coats her words like sugar on a daiquiri glass—“but I don’t sleep with my boss.”
“My benefits are legendary, actually, but I meant stage time, Dix. I don’t mix business with pleasure, either. I was talking about a weekly gig in addition to bartending. However”—he shrugs and grins—“if you’d rather sleep with me, that’s your call.”
Her gaze cuts left. I track it to where Matt’s standing against the rail, monitoring the exchange with a dark, broody look on his face. A muscle flexes in his jaw as he watches Dixie consider her options, and a random question pops into my head. Exactly how did Dixie and my hot neighbors celebrate her open-mic win last week?
Finally, Dixie pours herself another shot, clinks the glass against Dylan’s, and downs it. “See you tomorrow at the club, boss.”
People watching the exchange laugh and give Dylan shit about having his “epic” benefits rejected. Matt takes a long swallow from his beer before turning to brace his forearms on the rail and stare at the pool. I continue on my way. Undercurrents are flowing like riptides out there, but I can’t tell which way they run. I’m too off-balance from Vaughn’s dizzying scent and the imprint of his hand on my thigh. I enter the kitchen to take a moment to just breathe.
Ducking in an empty alcove, I call Brit for a quick pep talk. She picks up on the first ring. “How’s the party?”
“Good, but things are moving at warp speed.”
“Things meaning hands all over each other?”
“His hands, yes.”
“Kendall, it’s okay. All of it is okay. You’re entitled to have fun. Kiss a guy. Put your hands on him. Enjoy a summer fling. It’s normal.”
“I know.”
“And if you don’t go for it, you’ll regret it.”
She’s right. I will. “Thank you for the reminder.”
“Just call me Dr. Brit! Now go do everything I would.”
I chuckle. “That could take a while. I’ll call you later,” I say in lieu of good-bye.
“You better.”
I hurry down the hall, close the bathroom door behind me, and flip on the light switch. The small room is decorated with a wide sink console that has several drawers with an open shelf at the bottom. I splash some cold water on my sweaty palms, and feel some semblance of control come back. One daiquiri and I’m a tiny bit buzzed—just enough to relax and live in the moment. Am I ready for Vaughn? I’m not sure, but I’m drawn to him in a way I’ve never felt…with anyone.
A knock on the door spurs me to get moving. I open it wide. “Hey,” a girl wearing a skimpy bikini top and tiny white shorts says. “You done? I really have to pee.”
“All yours.” I step around her into the hallway. My curiosity gets the best of me when I pass a half-open door. It’s an office with a large desk, bookcase, chaise lounge, and—my gaze snags on a framed black-and-white portrait of a young woman hanging on the coffee-colored wall. I can’t help but move closer. The shape of her face. Her smile. She reminds me of Vaughn.
“You found my hiding place.”
I startle at the sound of his voice. I’m caught, but I’m rooted to my spot, the picture keeping me in place. He comes up beside me, his arm brushing mine. The now familiar electric charge heats my skin.
“Sorry. I shouldn’t have—”
