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I’ve replayed the morning I left over and over again in my head a million times in the last seven days, and I still don’t know what I could have done to make things go differently. I gave him plenty of opportunities to speak up, to tell me he wants me, or hell, just to say thank you for the three months of my life I’d been working for him.
But Remy has made it clear he wants nothing to do with me. I’m not going to throw myself at a guy. If Remy wants me, he knows where I am.
I open my eyes as Malia pulls into the crowded parking lot outside of Bleachers. I paste on a smile and give myself a pep talk.
It will be okay. It will be fun. You’ll have a drink, dance with your friends, and push all thoughts of a certain grumpy jerk from your head.
I climb out and follow Monty and Malia up to the door. We flash our ID’s and head inside the noisy bar. It’s packed, and I cling to Malia’s hand as we wind our way through the crowd to the bar.
“Want a whiskey sour?” Monty calls to me.
“I think I’ll stick to light beer,” I tell her, remembering the last time I had a whiskey sour. Not that I think Remy is going to show up and throw himself at me, but if he did, I want to be sober.
So I can reject him, of course.
The music is cranked up loud, and I can barely hear my friends as they order their drinks. I scan the crowded dance floor, people watching as we wait for the bartender to make our order.
My eyes are drawn to him right away. It’s like I can sense his presence, and I gasp as my eyes lock with Remy’s from across the bar.
It’s dark in here and I can only see his silhouette. Remy’s dark hair and darker eyes are barely visible, but I feel the intensity of his stare all the way down to my bones. He blends in with the dark corners, but my heart knows his. My brain has branded his body to memory after our one night together.
He stares back at me, and I wish I could tell what he’s thinking. What secrets has he been hiding? Why won’t he just let me in? Has he missed me? Has Remy been even half as miserable as I’ve been all week?
I don’t know, and I doubt I’ll get the answers tonight, if ever.
Brown eyes study me, and I’m held captive. My body responds to his attention even though my heart is breaking and my mind is telling me to slap him in the face. My skin prickles with awareness, a dull, throbbing ache blooming between my legs. I remember how it felt to have Remy’s stubble brushing against my inner thighs as he licked me to orgasm, the way he held me through it all, his strong, sturdy, calloused hands keeping me grounded while he sent me to heights unknown.
Kai nudges Remy, and I realize that all of the Ford brothers are here. I glance at Monty, wondering if she knew, if she planned this. I told her and Malia this afternoon what happened between us. Neither had been surprised. They figured that something had happened based on my sullen mood all week.
Both of them encouraged me to tell him that I want him, but the thing is, I already did. Monty said I needed to talk to him again, trying to convince me things needed to be restated after we slept together. But why is it my responsibility to define the relationship when I was the one to proposition him? Isn’t it Remy’s turn to show some vulnerability? I want a man who will fight for me, and so far, all Remy has done is push me away.
I break eye contact with the frustrating cowboy and make my way to the center of the dance floor, wanting to get lost in the crowd. I tell myself not to look back, but my treacherous body has other ideas. Remy is still staring at me, his deep brown eyes drinking me in like I’m water and he’s a man that’s been lost in the desert. It makes me feel wanted and wanton and I relax, letting my body sway slightly with the music.
The song changes to something faster, the bass rattling my bones, and I smile slightly, sighing under my breath as I start to dance. I get lost in the song, in the rumble of the bass and the heavy beat from the drums. I let my eyes close as I lift my hands above my head and move.
For the first time all week, I feel at peace. Deep down, I know it’s because I’m close to Remy. Even though I’m pissed and hurt, I can’t deny the effect the man still has on me. I can still feel his eyes on me, and I dance a little dirtier, putting on a show I secretly hope he likes.
“You’ve got some great moves,” comes a deep voice over my shoulder. A hand wraps around my waist, and I spin around.
Some drunk guy is grinning at me, and I force a smile to my lips.
“Thanks.”
“Want to dance with me? I can show you some of my own moves,” he offers with a wink.
“Um,” I start.
“She’s not interested,” Monty says as Malia snags my arm and spins me around.
We head toward their booth, and I take my drink from Monty.
“Thanks,” I tell her, and she nods.
“Remy looked like he was about to blow a fuse. Or go over there and pummel that guy’s face in,” she yells in my ear. I glance over at my grumpy ex-boss.
Sure enough, he’s glaring across the bar at the man who asked me to dance. I feel a shiver of excitement race down my spine.
Is he jealous? Does that mean he missed me? That he wants me? Would I jump right back into his arms if he apologized tonight?
