Sure, I might not have been naked in front of him earlier, but I felt completely bare.
The way his eyes lingered on me when I walked out of my bedroom in my new design has been burned into my skin all night long.
Even now, dancing with this incredibly hot guy who has made me laugh with his silly pickup line, I can feel it still.
It feels like he etched his name into my flesh and marked me for life.
Calvin, my dance partner, points toward the bar.
I nod, needing another drink to help keep my mind clear of Cooper and his stare.
He clasps my hand in his and pulls me through the crowd.
I try hard not to think about how his hand feels compared to Cooper’s. They’re not the same, that’s for sure.
Ugh. Stop thinking about him.
We squeeze into a spot at the bar, and he motions for the bartender.
A beautiful blonde with boobs that’d make any girl jealous saunters up to us.
“What can I get for you two?”
“Whatever bottle you have on special,” he tells her before looking at me expectantly.
It takes me a second to realize why he’s staring at me.
He wants my drink order.
It’s weird. I can’t remember the last time I had to tell someone what I want. Cooper always knows exactly what to order me.
“My treat,” he pushes.
I don’t tell him I already have a tab here. Who doesn’t like free drinks?
“A spiced rum and root beer, please,” I say to the bartender.
She tilts her head, studying me with pursed lips.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing.” She shakes her head. “I’ll be right back with your drinks.”
I don’t have a second to think about it as Calvin dances his fingers along my arm, drawing my attention.
“So,” he says, grinning down at me, “what’s your thing?”
I scrunch my brows together. “My thing?”
“Yeah, like what do you do?”
“For an occupation?”
“Sure. Or a hobby.”
I don’t share my hobby with anyone. In fact, the only people who know I design are Cooper, River, and our other business partner, Maya.
That’s it.
Not even my dad knows I make my own clothes. He still complains every time I talk to him, saying I’m squandering my college degree by working in a “second-rate store,” as he calls it.
“I work at a popular boutique over on Second Street. Maybe you’ve heard of it. Making Waves?”
He nods. “Oh yeah. My ex-girlfriend loved that place. I’ve dropped a lot of money in there. You’re welcome.”
He laughs, and I smile politely, not really liking his joke, like he’s solely responsible for my salary or something.
But maybe I’m just being sensitive and perhaps a tad picky.
“I’m a real estate agent,” he provides. “Business around here is booming with the legalization of marijuana. All those potheads moving here in droves, and I’m the one reaping the benefits.”
Making so much money he’s ordering the cheapest beer on the menu?
He’s either cheap or full of shit.
You’re not here to fall in love, Caroline, just to get laid. He’s hot—stop nitpicking.
“What a lucky business to be in, then,” I tell him.
“Here are those drinks.” The bartender slides our order across the bar.
“Thanks,” Calvin says, handing over his credit card, chugging half his beer in one go.
I take a healthy drink of my cocktail, thirsty from being on the dance floor.
“Good?” he asks, like he’s the one who made it. “Another? The drinks are good here but tiny. Plus, I’m sure you’re warm in that outfit of yours.” He pulls his lips between his teeth, raking his eyes over my body. “Though damn is it hot on you.”
I blush. I am a little warm in my sweater dress. I didn’t think there’d be so many people here tonight when I planned the outfit, but then I don’t ever go out. How was I supposed to know?
“Sure, I’ll take another,” I tell him. “Thank you.”
“No problem.”
He calls the bartender over again, ordering another round of our drinks.
“That’s an odd drink order,” he says when she walks away. “Haven’t heard that one before.”
“Really? You’ve never had spiced rum and root beer together? It’s so good, even better when you add a splash of Irish cream to it.”
He wrinkles his nose. “Not a big hard liquor fan. Would much rather have a good, local IPA.”
“I’m not a big beer fan.”
“You’re missing out. There are so many good local breweries you could be visiting.” He downs the rest of his first beer just as the bartender slips our second round across the bar top. “You from around here?”
“Sort of,” I tell him. “I’m originally from Florida. My best friend and I moved here for college and decided we liked it, so we stayed. We’ve been here about seven years now.”
“You chose to stay in Colorado over going back to Florida? The Sunshine State for all this craptastic weather? You’re nuts, girl.” He shakes his head. “Beautiful, but nuts.”
I lift a shoulder. “Trust me, you get tired of nothing but sunshine and hurricanes after a while. Besides, Cooper got an excellent job here right after graduation. It just made sense to stay.”
“Cooper? Your boyfriend?”
I shake my head. “No. The best friend I came here to go to college with.”
“Your best friend is a guy?”
“Um…yes?”
I don’t know why it comes out as a question, but I guess that’s because I don’t understand why he’s questioning my friendship.
“And that works for you?”
“Being friends? Yes.”
He shakes his head, taking another drink from his beer. “No—being friends with a guy.”
“Oh. That.” I nod. “Yeah, it works for us.”
“You don’t have feelings for him you’re hung up on or anything? Haven’t been secretly in love with him since you were kids or something?”
Since we were kids? When he was a lanky, overconfident jock who thought he was God’s gift to women even though he could barely speak to them? The one who was so sick one time he shit his pants from coughing so hard? That same guy?
No. I am not secretly in love with Cooper.
I wrinkle my nose. “Heavens no. We’re just friends. I’ve known him way too long to be in love with him.”
“No repressed sexual desires, then?”
I gulp.
Not until recently. Not until I saw exactly the kind of man that same lanky kid grew up to be.
I force a laugh, hoping it doesn’t come out sounding too fake. “No. Nothing like that. We’ve been friends since we were fifteen. I’ve been there through all his awkward teen years, including when he thought it was cool to dress in those god-awful cargo shorts. That’s enough to scar me for life.” I finish off my first drink and reach for my second. “We’re just friends.”
“Good.” A grin stretches across his face. I’m sure he thinks he looks sexy and confident, and he has the confident part right, but it’s definitely not in a good way. He appears a little too sure of himself. “Glad to hear that.”