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CHAPTERTWO
“Coming through with cocktails for the girl of the hour,” Hadley said.
Hex grinned as her elegant friend set the pink drinks down. They were all in fancy glasses topped with delicate flowers.
Nearby, Bram O’Donovan wrinkled his nose. “Those arenotdrinks.”
“You think only whiskey is a drink,” Killian said.
Bram grunted. “That’s not true. Only Irish whiskey.”
Jet rolled her eyes and grinned. Bram had his fiancée, Addie, snuggled in his lap, a hand pressed to her pregnant belly. It was so cute watching the big, grumpy Irishman turn to goo for his sweet, blonde baby mama.
Beside them Killian sat, legs stretched in front of him and one arm across the back of his wife Devyn’s chair. As Jet watched, Devyn leaned in and bit his ear. Killian smiled at her.
Smiled. God. A few months ago, if anyone had told Jet that deadly Killian Hawke would be married and in love, she’d have fallen off her chair laughing.
“Happy birthday, Hex.” Hadley lifted her cocktail.
Hadley’s fiancé, British billionaire Bennett Knightley sat beside her. He winked at Hex and held his glass of wine aloft. A chorus of Happy Birthdays followed.
Jet lifted her drink. “Thanks, guys.” She sipped, enjoying the pop of sweetness. Thirty-one wasn’t so bad.
Around her, her friends talked and laughed. She worked with the best group of badasses in New York City. Hell, in the world, in her opinion. Killian ran a tight ship, and only hired the best.
She looked down the table at Nick and Lainie, and Matteo and Gabbi. The couples were chatting with Maverick Rivera and his wife Remi. Remi was another hacker who had once worked for Sentinel Security before she’d married her tech gazillionaire.
God, everyone was coupled up, and here she was, depressingly single. She didn’t need a man to complete her, but she wouldn’t mind someone to share the cooking with, and who could give her some non-self-induced orgasms.
Someone to talk to at the end of a long day. To hold her when she needed a hug.
Shit, she was getting melancholy on this birthday. She took a huge sip of her gin cocktail. Her gaze fell on her two girlfriends who were sitting right at the end of the table. Both were single and dolled up like her. Jet had worn her favorite dress—a white, fitted number that clung to her body perfectly, and ended at mid-thigh.
Nina and Ellen worked in tech too, and they’d crossed paths—online and off-line. The pair was always lots of fun.
Nina spotted her looking, and lifted a drink and winked. Hex lifted hers in response. Nina was a glamourous, tall African-American woman, and Jet envied the woman her height. Their other friend, Ellen, was a classic geek. She wore a vintage, polka-dot dress, had moon-pale skin, kept her brown hair cut short, and wore a set of oversized glasses.
The conversation at the table ebbed and flowed. It wasn’t long before Bram and Addie left. Addie was expecting twins, and was starting to get tired more frequently. Slowly, the other couples started to filter out.
Remi stood. “Let’s dance.”
Maverick, chatting with Killian, scowled. “I don’t dance.”
“I’m in.” Nina dragged Ellen up. “So’s Ellen.”
Jet knocked back her drink. Dancing sounded good. She was going to dance, and maybe flirt with some hot guy.
She hadn’t heard from a certain hot spy for over a week.
Ugh. She skirted the table. She wasnotthinking about him.
She forced herself to smile at her friends. A song came on with a deep beat. Hex sauntered onto the dance floor, swinging her hips.
“You go, birthday girl,” Nina yelled over the music.
Remi cheered. She leaned against Jet, and they belted out the words to the song. Nina and Ellen danced together, laughing.
This was fun. Life was good. Smiling, Jet kept dancing with her friends. One song turned into two, then three.
