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She’s feisty and determined, but so very misguided.
Even if I was shopping for a hookup at this party, this dress isn’t me. I don’t like strangers staring at my belly button or having a bird’s-eye view of the freckle at the base of my spine. And my back feels like it’s about to cramp from how hard I’m working to hold the posture necessary to avoid flashing everyone.
I should have worn the pants suit.
But as it is, I’m just counting the seconds until Liam comes back and I can take shelter against his side.
I turn to check on him at the bar, and jealousy burns through me as one of the servers rests her hand on his upper arm.
Not only is she touching him like they have some kind of special secret, but her dress covers twice what mine does.
He bows down so she can speak into his ear.
My belly tightens uncomfortably.
Inexplicably.
What do I care if he’s letting some pretty girl in a short skirt chat him up? I don’t.
I shouldn’t.
He’s not actually mine.
I start to turn away but can’t quite make it happen without turning back for one more look.
And that’s when I see it.
Liam smiles. Like a real smile, and nods… following as the woman leads him away.
I stare. Processing.
It doesn’t matter. We’re friends. Not even. We’re friendly. Heck, he gave me his divorce lawyer to make sure we got moving on it. We don’t even text to keep in touch. So why can’t I wrap my head around what just happened?
“Stormy, have you met Jamie?”
I turn back to my sister, who’s grinning beside one of the men we were talking with earlier. I recognize him, but no, we haven’t actually been introduced yet.
Pushing my shoulders back and my smile into place, I offer my hand. “Not officially. Hi, I’m Stormy Hendricks.”
He takes my hand and, instead of shaking, brings it to his mouth where he holds it, looking me over top to bottom, before giving it a kiss that has my brows knitting together.
Is this guy for real?
“Damn, I’ve been waiting all year for a dress like this.”
Mmm. “All the credit goes to Misty,” I supply dryly, shooting my sister a glare.
She cringes and mouths “Sorry” as this Jamie person tells me about how he’s “athlete adjacent” since he owns a sports drink company or something.
There’s a warm tingle between my shoulder blades, like an awareness starting in the skin but heating through me until I feel it bloom in the center of my chest. Misty’s eyes narrow on something behind me.Someone.
Turning, I lose my breath at the sight of Liam closing in.
He’s wearing a snug black T-shirt still holding fold marks and an “inspected by” sticker on the straining short sleeve. In his hands is a crumpled bag from one of those online delivery services and—
“Oh my God,” my sister gasps from behind me. “Is that your shirt?”
Liam shrugs, holding the garment up. “I run hot.” Eyes locked with mine, he adds, “But you were mentioning being cold earlier… Did you want to wear this?”
