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A lull in the chaos hits at mid-afternoon to offer a much-needed reprieve. Not a moment too soon as sweat prepares to drip off my balls. Previous experience suggests this relief will be brief, and I don’t hesitate to guzzle a bottle of water. Cool liquid dribbles down my chin as I drink without care.
That’s when I spot a friendly face laughing at my hasty methods. Harper Wilson is crossing the outdoor space in a hurry, planning to take advantage of the calm as well. Our bar’s most beloved booze fetcher is flanked by her long-awaited happily-ever-after. Jacob Evans is nothing short of an asshole, but he finally got some much-needed sense smacked into him.
His little girl deserves credit for bringing the two back together. Rumor had it that six-year-old Sydney was adamant about Harper becoming her real mom. Speaking of the town’s gossips, those troublemakers were more than likely involved in the matchmaking too. I’d accept a pat on the back for hiring my sister’s best friend while knowing full well Roosters is Jake’s favorite place to unwind. In the end, it was a team effort that’s now flourishing.
I smile at the approaching trio, but a lone figure snatches my focus before they reach me. The woman is instantly recognizable. She drove me to distraction last month, which led to Harper transforming Roosters into a dance club for an entire night. It’s been impossible to forget her hypnotic allure. That trance once again renders me useless.
Harper is talking to her, but I only hear the erratic thrash of my desire. The bombshell that’s wrecking my composure is breathtaking in a plain t-shirt and jeans. No frills or fuss, which suits my style just fine.
Her shapely figure commands my full concentration. As if tethered, I’m incapable of looking away. She’s lush curves and endless pleasure wrapped in one fuckable package. My mouth goes dry as I treat myself to a languid perusal of those supple lines that connect to create an irresistible form. Somewhere in the recesses of my lust-addled brain, I realize that it’s not polite to ogle her this way.
My creeper status warns me to retreat when Sydney joins their conversation. A slow blink does little to alleviate the pressure in my groin. In a weak attempt to sever this daze—and regain control from my cock—I forcefully avert my gaze off her tits. The button on her purse strap halts my decent intentions. I cough to free myself from the stupor.
“Holy shit,” I blurt. “You’re my other half.”
Harper squeaks in outrage and claps her palms over Syd’s ears. Then she pins me with a glare. “Can you watch your language?”
The pinch in my features is meant to be apologetic. But in reality, I’m too transfixed by the raven-haired beauty to notice much else. “We’re meant to be.”
She raises her hands to strike my wayward nonsense. “I just want a cocktail.”
“Hold the tail?” I wag my brows to regain the trustworthy charm that never steers me wrong. “We can save that for later. For now, we need to celebrate. Your number is the same as mine. Fifty-three.”
Her gaze narrows on the button I have proudly displayed on my shirt. Then she glances at the identical pin attached to her purse strap. “I forgot about that.”
“It’s tradition,” I hoot and spread my arms wide. “The anticipation of meeting your match keeps you searching the crowd.”
My exaggerated reaction makes this casual game sound like the stars aligned to bring us together. Maybe there’s a bit of destiny involved. Not that I believe in fate. In reality, every attendee is given a button at the entrance with the incentive of a prize. The festival ritual is forgotten more often than not. I’d been guilty of doing just that until this chick returned to my sights.
“That’s quite a romantic sentiment.” She gives me another once-over. ”Front and center, huh?”
“Didn’t want the one meant for me to miss it.” I tap the number pinned smack dab in the middle of my chest. Then I tack on a smirk to showcase my dimples. These weapons of destruction have an undefeated record against panties. The protective layer melts off before the ladies know what hit them.
This girl is my latest target and appears caught under the influence. After staring openly for several seconds, she rips her gaze off me. “And now that you’ve found her?”
“Pretty sure you found me, soulmate.”
She snorts at the nickname. “Not on purpose.”
“Isn’t that how the best love stories begin?” I saunter out from behind the portable bar cart to stand beside her. “What’s your name?”
A suspicious brow quirks at my close proximity. “Thought it was soulmate?”
“Oh, you’re already agreeing to be mine?” Warmth thrums in a downward trek to stroke my ego.
She presses her lips into a flat line. “Hardly. I’m Grace, and you’re not my type.”
Sydney gasps, cutting off any chance for me to claim otherwise. “That’s my middle name! We’re like almost twins.”
Grace radiates pure happiness at her remark. “Aww, I feel extremely fortunate. That’s really special.”
“Do you know what twins are?” Syd leans in before her new gal pal can consider responding. “It’s when a mommy has two babies in her belly.”
Grace widens her eyes for the little girl’s sake. “Bet that gets heavy, huh?”
Sydney nods, sending her pigtail braids flying. “Uh-huh, super-duper. Do you know how the twins get in her tummy?”
Harper suddenly jolts into action, as if running interference on this conversation is vital. “Let’s not spoil the surprise, superstar. Grace can research on her own.”
