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I don’t give a rat’s ass if she realizes that I’ve been staring like a stalker. That’s how far gone I am.
Once I’ve snagged her attention, dull color creeps into her cheeks.
And I love it.
Love that all it takes is one look and she’s blushing, thinking about all the delicious things I’ve done to her body. Maybe even pondering what I’ll do in the not-so-distant future.
Fuck.
I really need to shut down these thoughts before I get a full-fledged boner. It’s doubtful anyone would appreciate me lusting after the host’s daughter.
“Would you like another drink?”
I’m knocked out of those thoughts by the ebony-haired waitress who’s been circulating around the room.
Lola.
We’ve had a class or two together throughout the years. Much like Juliette, she’s not someone I see around at parties. From what I remember, her family owns the restaurant, and she works here part time. Since I’m no stranger to Taco Loco—hello, taco Tuesday—I’ve seen more than a few guys shoot their shot. I’ve also watched her annihilate them without the slightest bit of hesitation. Can’t say it’s not enjoyable.
I lift the bottle and give it a little wiggle. “Nope, still good. Thanks.”
“Let me know if you need anything else,” she says.
“Will do.”
She moves on without so much as another look in my direction.
Juliette’s grandfather, John McKinnon, and his second wife, Amber, are also here with their girls. Hailey and Stella. I know Stella pretty well. She and Riggs go way back and have been besties for a while. I give her a chin lift in greeting from across the room. She’s a gorgeous girl with a killer body and long blonde hair. Riggs jokingly refers to her as a serial dater.
Or maybe not so jokingly.
She goes through guys the way some people go through sticks of chewing gum. Even though Riggs has never come out and said anything about Stella, I get the feeling there’s more between them than he lets on.
Or maybe he just wishes there were.
Sometimes, I like to needle Riggs by telling him that I’m going to make a play for his bestie.
It always pisses him off.
I’m a little surprised my teammate isn’t here. Most of the time, those two are joined at the hip.
When my gaze meanders back to Juliette, I realize there’s a guy chatting her up. I lift the bottle to my lips again and take another swig as my brows pinch together. He looks to be around our age. Maybe a year or two older. His casual yet upscale look screams young professional. As does the short, perfectly styled hair. Not one damn strand is out of place. My guess is that he works in a bank or something. Definitely a desk job. He’s with an older couple who look vaguely familiar.
My gaze shifts back to the guy. He’s standing entirely too close to Juliette for my liking.
And the way he’s smiling at her…
I know exactly what’s going through his mind, because it goes through mine all the damn time.
It’s tempting to stalk over and yank her into my arms so that thisWolf of Wall Streetdouche understands exactly who this girl belongs to.
Except…
Juliette doesn’t actually belong to me.
I’m just the guy helping her tick items off a bucket list.
It’s not like we’ll continue hanging out after everything is said and done.
