More like a wildfire breakout.
“The only connection we have is that he stuck his penis inside me once. That’s it. Nothing more. Now, it’s time to move on.”
She pushes my shoulder when I go back to my fake lint-picking. “Okay, what the hell is going on with you?”
“Nothing,” I blurt out, shifting my neck from side to side like I’m sore. “Jet lag is a bitch.”
“Liar.”
I wave off her accusation. “It’s your engagement party. Tonight is all about you.”
“If that’s the case, then I want answers.”
I chew on the edge of my lip while her dark eyes study me. I get the opportunity to look away when music starts to blare through the room. I glance at the DJ booth and then to the makeshift dance floor in front of it and almost gag at his first song choice.
Boyz II Men? Really, dude?
Looks like we’re getting served cheese with these cupcakes.
The sight of Hudson hurrying over to us relieves me. He wraps his arms around Stella from behind and squeezes her hips, his mouth going straight to her ear.
“Dance with me,” he attempts to whisper, although I’m sure everyone in the state heard him.
Stella melts at his touch, like it’s the first time they’ve ever had physical contact, and my heart hurts. This is what real love is. This is something I’ll never have. She groans, and I know my best friend well enough to know she’s going to turn him down to continue our conversation.
“Go dance with your fiancé,” I insist. “We’ll talk later.”
A smile accompanies her next groan. “Fine, but you’re not leaving this town until you spill the tea.”
“I wouldn’t imagine it any other way.”
Hudson kisses her cheek, snags her hand in his, and sweeps her toward the dance floor. The crowd cheers, and people jump up from their seats to join them.
I release a deep breath, happy I dodged that conversation, and decide to reward myself with another cupcake. I grab a chocolate one with strawberry icing and huddle myself into a corner at the farthest end of the room. Shame sinks through me when I do another once-over of the party to search for the man who screwed me in more ways than one.
One more glance. That’s it.
One more view of the man who gave me the best night of my life and the worst morning.
My throat tightens when I spot him sitting at a crowded table in the middle of the room with the entire Barnes family. His daughter, Maven, has his full attention as she grins wildly and dramatically throws her hands up in the air while telling him a story. His head tilts back in laughter, causing my knees to weaken. That’s the smile I longed for that morning.
God, he looks sexy.
More delicious than these cupcakes.
Too bad he isn’t as sweet.
Dallas Barnes is tall, dark, and handsome but also scarred, rough, and broken down by burdens. He’s the man of your dreams who has been through hell and hasn’t risen above it yet.
Tingles sweep up my neck as flashes of our night together come crashing through me harder than this sugar rush. I drink him in like the glass of champagne I can’t have while he runs his strong hand over the stubble of his dominant jaw. The same hand that ignited nerves in my body I never knew existed. His hair, the same color as the whiskey we threw back, is freshly cut on the sides and grown out on top.
I rub at the sudden ache in my neck while begging my mind to forget, to stop feeling something every time I see him. Hell, every time I think about him. It’s always hate laced with desire.
We were two lonely and heartbroken souls who connected over a night of drinking our pains away. When the alcohol proved not to be potent enough to heal, we tried to fuck it away.
Fucking and feelings do not go together like macaroni and cheese.
I used him. He used me. I thought I was okay with that until reality smacked me in the face when he kissed me for the first time. That was the moment I turned greedy and wanted more than just a quick fuck. The problem is, he didn’t.
As if he senses me watching him, his deep-set charcoal eyes move in my direction, and my back stiffens. I hold in a breath when he scoots out his chair, gives Maven a quick peck on the top of her head, and walks toward me.
Oh, shit.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
The first few buttons are undone on his chambray shirt, exposing the top of his broad chest, and the sleeves are tight around his muscular arms. He’s not fit from spending seven days a week at the gym. No, he’s naturally buff, and the manual labor he does now only amplifies it.
Was driving me crazy his goal tonight? No doubt Hudson told him I’d be here.
I move my gaze from one side of the room to the other, desperately searching for the nearest exit, as he gets closer. I’m his chosen target. I bite my lip at the realization that I’ll have to walk past him to leave. The determination on his face assures me that I’m not going anywhere until he gets what he wants.
I shove the remainder of the cupcake in my mouth and silently give myself a pep talk to make it through this conversation without plowing my heel into his balls. I stupidly run my hands over my dress after swallowing down the last bite and then cringe at the pink frosting smear.
Real smooth.
So much for appearing cool and collected.
This hot-mess look won’t make him regret kicking you out of his bed.
I tense when he reaches me, and he shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans, staring at me with affliction. The thread around his shirt buttons stretches when he leans back on his heels and waits for my response.
“Willow.” He releases my name like an announcement, and the familiar scent of him drifts up my nostrils, a mix of regret and whiskey with small notes of cedar.
It’s comforting at first since I’ve always felt a sense of security when he is around, but then I remember what he did.
I settle my hand against the wall to keep me from falling on my ass. “Dallas,” I reply with a sneer. “Fancy seeing you here.”
“It’s my brother’s engagement.”
My mouth slams shut, and my gaze drops to the floor at my stupidity. “Oh, yeah … right.”
Silence passes.
I don’t look at him when I lift my head back up. Instead, I avert my attention to the people dancing, laughing, and having a good time in the room, wishing it were me.
Hell, three months ago, that would’ve been me. I cast a glance to his mom and dad. Do they know what we did? That he screwed my brains out one night?
He clears his throat to gain my attention again. I give in and focus on his broad-jawed face. He’s staring at me in gentleness, almost pity, which surprises me.
“How long are you in town for?” he asks.
“Two days.” My initial plan was to fly in and out within the same day, but Hudson begged me to stay longer for Stella.
“Get breakfast with me in the morning.”
His question startles me. The breakfast offer is a little too late. That should’ve happened on our morning after.
“I’m not much of a breakfast person.”
He scratches his cheek. “Grab coffee?”
“I don’t drink coffee.” This is the truth. Never been a coffee fan. Never will be.
“What the hell do you do in the morning then?”
“Sleep.” Get sick. Roll around in my sheets, wishing I could turn back time.