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Going to Kingston’s room, I put away his laundry that I washed and folded last night, then pick up his toys from the floor. A pointless endeavor since he’ll just drag everything back out as soon as he gets home tomorrow evening. After running the vacuum through the entire apartment and cleaning both bathrooms, I think about finding an outfit to wear tonight, but instead I climb into my bed and set an alarm with enough time to get ready in case I fall asleep. Because Lord knows, regardless of my appearance, Emma will be dragging my behind out of the house at seven o’clock on the dot.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
tucker
“I think I’m drunk.” Willow giggles as she sits down on Clay’s lap, wrapping her arms around his neck and causing the cheap plastic crown she’s wearing to slip off her head. Catching it before it hit the ground, I toss it next to the bride-to-be sash that’s already forgotten on the short table in front of us that is covered with drinks.
“Thanks.” She grins at me, and I lift my chin.
“I think we’re done for the night,” Clay tells her when she rests her head on his shoulder.
“Not yet, I’m still having fun,” she mumbles, totally out of it, and I chuckle as I stand.
“I think I’m gonna—”
“You’re not leaving already, are you?” She sits up, cutting me off, and I glance at Clay.
“I think it’s time for all of us to call it a night. It’s almost midnight,” he informs her, and she grabs my wrist, bringing my watch close to her face and squinting her eyes. After reading the time, she pouts out her bottom lip and faces Clay.
“This is our last night as single people. We can’t just go home just because it’s almost midnight.”
“You’re single tonight?” He raises a brow, and she rolls her eyes.
“You know what I mean. We’re getting married the day after tomorrow. This is our last night out as an unmarried couple.” She rests her hand on his cheek. “Just a little longer?”
“Fine.” He gives in.
“Yay.” She kisses his cheek, then gets up and stumbles back over to her cousins and sisters, who have taken over the dance floor.
“You’re fucked,” I tell my brother, and he drags his eyes off his fiancée, grinning as he stands.
“I know.” He pats me on the shoulder. “Let’s go get another drink.”
“Are we heading out?” Dalton asks when he dislodges his mouth from the blonde on his lap.
“We’re gonna get another beer,” Clay says as we walk past him.
“Good, I need a fresh one.” He carefully removes the woman he’d been making out with, and she glares at his back when he doesn’t spare her another glance.
“Where’s Miles?” I look around. Even close to midnight, the club is still packed, though most of the people here are friends of Willow and Clay, who were invited to their joint bachelor and bachelorette party, since a lot of them won’t be able to fly out to Vegas. They’re getting married there the day after tomorrow before they fly to Fiji for a two-week honeymoon.
“I think I saw him hanging with Harlan a little bit ago, he’s around somewhere. He says referring to Willow’s sister’s husband.
“Oh my God!”
Hearing that in a high-pitched squeal, I turn my head and watch a woman with long dark hair run toward Willow’s cousin, April, who is sitting with her husband, Maxim, at the bar.
As April and the woman hug, I look behind her, and fuck if my gut doesn’t clench when I spot Miranda walking to where the two women are embracing. Hair down, dark jeans that fit her like a second skin, top that is exposing a hint of cleavage, and just enough makeup to accentuate her already beautiful face with lips painted a deep red that has me playing out a million fantasies in about two seconds.
Like she can sense me looking at her, she turns her head my way after hugging April, and the moment our eyes lock, those full red lips curve up into a genuine smile.
“Who’s that?” Dalton asks, and I glance over at him, finding his eyes locked on Miranda with an appreciative light to his gaze.
“None of your business.” The statement comes out without permission but fuck if I can deny the irrational anger that hits me like a freight train just thinking about him trying to talk to her.
He raises a brow in a question, but I turn back just in time to watch her full hips sway from side to side as she walks toward me.
When I meet her halfway, she rests her hand on my chest and leans up on her tiptoes so she can touch her lips to my cheek. “Hey, Tucker,” she whispers there. When she leans back, her eyes go to my cheek, and she lifts her hand, using her thumb to swipe away the red she probably left behind.
