He’s been on my ass about the two of us from the moment he met her, always swearing something was going on that I wasn’t telling him about.
There wasn’t.
There isn’t.
“It’s not like that.” I laugh, pulling back and dropping Caroline’s hand like it’s on fire.
I motion for her to step into the fold. She takes a tentative step forward, the attention of the whole office all on her. “Guys—and Joan—for anyone who hasn’t met her yet, this is Caroline, my best friend.”
“Hey,” one says.
“Hello there,” from another.
“Damn.”
Someone even whistles. I think it’s Joan.
Several of them mutter things I can’t make out, which is probably for the best, but not a single person isn’t looking at her with piqued interest.
And I don’t like it one fucking bit.
My chest feels tight, like something I haven’t felt before, and I’m already regretting bringing her out.
“She’s off-limits.”
It comes out harsher than I intend, but the wide eyes and nods from my co-workers tell me my point has hit home.
“Uh, hi,” Caroline says softly, giving the group a wave.
I can feel the nerves radiating off of her, and I’m sure she’s dying to dart away.
I lean down to whisper to her and regret it instantly.
She smells like apples, and I know she’s wearing that perfume I bought her two Christmases ago. She only ever wears it for special occasions, and I guess tonight called for it.
I wonder if she tastes like apples too.
The thought slams into me.
I grit my teeth, trying to ignore the asinine idea of doing something I know I’ll regret…like taking a taste.
“If at any time you’re feeling overwhelmed, we can go. Just say the word and we’ll leave. We’ll grab ice cream and watch The Vampire Diaries and chalk it up to a bad experiment. Okay?”
I pull back, finding her eyes.
She’s grinning at me, probably liking that idea very much.
“Maybe you’re not such a bad friend after all.”
If only she knew the thoughts I’m having about her…
“Told you.” I wink. “Now, what do you want to drink?”
She tilts her head at me. “Are you really asking?”
“No, I guess not. You always get the same thing.” She nods. “Okay, I’ll be right back,” I tell her.
“What!” she squeaks. “You’re leaving me?”
“Yes, but I’ll be right back. We can’t be together all night, remember? You’re trying to attract dudes. I’m hot, Caroline—I’ll ruin all your chances at getting anyone to talk to you.”
She lifts her eyes, and I notice she’s wearing a little more makeup than she usually does.
Why are you noticing stupid crap like that? Just get a fucking drink, you pussy-deprived idiot.
“Go talk to Joan if you’re nervous. She’s nice. You’ll be fine.”
She nods. “Okay, okay. You’re right. Not about you being hot, but the other stuff.”
I bristle at her teasing for just a moment before I realize it’s nothing. I’m just wound too tight for no reason at all.
I hold my hand out toward her, and she peers down at it with a frown before slapping hers to mine and saying, “High five.”
I shake my head, laughing. “No. Money me.”
“Huh?”
“You’re buying tonight.” I wiggle my fingers. “Money me.”
With a sigh, she reaches into the tiny purse she has slung around her body and pulls her credit card free, slapping it into my hand with a little too much force.
“Barely touch a guy’s dick one time and you owe him for life.”
“Not for life, just tonight. And once a year after.”
She shakes her head. “Go get me a drink before I change my mind and go home.”
“You wouldn’t dare bail already.”
“Want to test me?”
“You don’t scare me, Caroline. Now go mingle.”
I give her a gentle push toward the table, then slide past her, making sure to keep my distance and not accidentally brush up against her.
Shayla, the woman who’s usually behind the bar, spots me from the other end and tells the second bartender she’s got this one as I approach.
She sashays over to me, her perky tits barely contained by her tight, small top.
“Hey, handsome,” she purrs, leaning across the bar and pressing her breasts together. They’re now dangerously close to spilling free.
“Hey, Shay,” I say. “How you been?”
“Good, but not as good as I’ve been before.”
I’m not an idiot. I know she’s referring to the night we had together when our company first started coming here. It was a one-time thing, and I made sure that was clear when my boss began bringing us here almost every Friday.
Every time I come in, she references our roll in the hay and how nobody else has come close to rocking her world like that. Sad, because all I did was make her come. But I think she’s accepted there won’t be a repeat.
“Can you start a tab for me?”
“Sure thing. What’ll it be tonight, handsome? Your usual?”
I nod. “A spiced rum and root beer too.”
She lifts her perfectly sculpted brow. “Two drinks?”
You’re here with someone? That’s what she’s really asking.
“Two drinks tonight.”
“Pity.” She pouts, and I don’t correct her that I’m here with my best friend and not a date. “Be right back.”
She flounces away, putting extra sway into her hips. She’s hot, I’ll give her that, but she’s not what I’m after at the moment.
I rest my back against the bar, turning toward the crowd, scanning it for someone to help take me down off this edge I seem to be standing on.
My eyes eventually land back on my co-workers. Paul is chatting with Chad One and Chad Two, two other developers, while the rest of the group seems to be enraptured by a story being told by Drake, our resident class clown.
Joan is talking with another coder, and Caroline is…
Wait. Where the fuck is Caroline?
I push to my full height, scanning the space again.
Damn it’s crowded in here.
I’m having a tough time spotting her—but then the distinct color of her dress catches my eye.
She’s in the corner of the bar talking with Eli.
Fuck. Of course that tool would defy my direct order. He does it all the time during projects. He’s a fucking know-it-all and way too anal about some crap.
Eli is a jackass on a good day, but get a few drinks in him and he’s even worse.
He’s rowdy. Loud. Brash.
And definitely not fucking good enough for Caroline.
“Here you go, handsome,” Shayla says, drawing my attention. “Just let me know when you’re ready to close out.”
I nod my thanks, grab our drinks, and beeline straight for my best friend and the office tool.
She’s smiling, but I know her. It’s not her smile. It’s strained.
She’s hating every single second of talking to him, but she’s way too polite to tell him otherwise.