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“I’ll be fine sitting here. It’s fun to watch drunk people.”
“Are you sure it’s okay if I go over there? I felt bad last time leaving you…” She trails off, and I know she is feeling uneasy and she shouldn’t.
I reach for a strand of my hair and start twirling. “It’s fine, trust me. Plus, you aren’t leaving this time without me, are you?” I confirm.
“No, tonight is your night.”
“Good. So go kiss face with my brother.” I cringe slightly, and we both share a laugh. “And I would not like to hear anything about it.”
“I’ll sit with her.”
We both turn at the voice coming from behind us. A shiver races through me as I gaze up at a pair of eyes I haven’t seen for a few months. Charcoal gray orbs stare back at me, and I wonder if he’s been to hell and back because his eyes tell me he has.
“Go. I’ll be fine,” I tell her again.
Simone stands and saunters off, straight to my brother.
Jake studies me, his eyes framed by long, thick lashes. Really, it’s unfair he has those naturally while I have to contend with glue-ons. He makes no move to sit, just looms behind me.
“Is this one of your places as well?” I ask.
“Yes,” he answers, not giving me any more information.
My eyes flick around the club, trying to avoid eye contact before I glance back at him. This time, I take him in more fully. His shoes are black and shiny, his slacks are matte black, matched with a dark gray button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up his forearms. His hair is shorter than it was the last time I saw him. And those eyes lock on me and read things about me I don’t want anyone else to see.
This man has seen me at my absolute worst.
And he stands there as someone who knows my inner thoughts.
“Do you plan to stand there all night?” Maybe he’ll make me less nervous sitting beside me? Actually, probably not.
“Care to take a walk?” He looks down at my drink. “Since you have only had three since you arrived.” I had one at home before we left too, but he doesn’t need to know that.
“You’re counting my drinks? Have you been watching me this whole time?” I ask, annoyed.
“Yes, since the minute you walked in. Now, come. I can tell you would rather not be here. My office is out back.” I turn to where my brother and Simone are shaking hips and locking lips as they dance without a care in the world for anyone but themselves.
Kyler and I were once like that.
I mentally slap myself for thinking of him.
I turn my attention to Jake but make no move to get up, but he is now standing closer, offering me one of his hands. “Consider this one of our dates.”
“Dates?” I ask.
“Yes, you owe me. Or have you forgotten?”
I kind of did, but I don’t tell him that.
It’s not that he is forgettable. It’s that my life has been a shitstorm, and I’m still trying to work it all out. No one tells you that when you leave your husband, your entire world will change or that it’s the small things you’ll miss like seeing his things in the shower or making two cups of coffee every morning.
I glance at Jake’s hand—it’s perfect, sexy, manicured, and strong—and he’s waiting for me to take it. Reaching out, I place my hand in his and stand. He doesn’t let go as we start walking, and I can’t say I dislike the way it feels. Though he’s powerful in his stance, the way he leads me is gentle and comforting. As we come to a stop at the bar, he turns to look at me.
“Would you like me to make you a drink?”
I don’t know why, but I nod my head. He pulls me over to the end of the bar, lifts the hinged section, and glides through. All the bartenders offer him their help, but he simply shrugs it off as he grabs the right glass and returns to where he left me standing. He puts it all out in front of me—the tequila, salt, lime, and Cointreau, then starts to make it so I can see everything he’s doing.
The thing is though, I know he’s not doing it to impress me. He’s doing it because I don’t trust my drink being made anymore. It took me three hours to drink the three margaritas I ordered, and I watched them make every drink and never let it leave my sight.
