10
Marin
Dropping my cell back into my gym bag, I dabbed at my sweat-slick chest with a towel, noticing the rehearsal studio in the very back of Whiskey Dolls had grown eerily quiet. When I slowly turned to face the wall of mirrors at the front of the room, I discovered that it was because every single one of the girls was staring at me, each one wearing a version of a shit-eating grin.
“Who was that?” McKenna, known to all us girls as Mac, asked in a sing-song voice. She and her husband, Bruce, had opened Whiskey Dolls a few years back. Theirs was a true fairytale story that we all swooned at hearing. While she didn’t perform all that often—too busy trying to run a successful, thriving business—she still attended every rehearsal and choreographed at least half of our numbers.
“Yeah, Mar,” Alma jumped in, her tone full-on teasing. “Was that a man who put that smile on your face?”
I rolled my eyes as the girls let out oohs and catcalls. “That was absolutely nothing, you freaks. And since when do you eavesdrop on my conversations?”
Sloane sat on the floor, stretching out her limbs after our rigorous rehearsal. “Since your voice got all seductive and breathy while you talked to him.”
“My voice wasn’t seductive and breathy!” I insisted. “I’m just out of breath. That was a hard rehearsal.”
Mac rolled her eyes and sucked back the rest of the water in her bottle. “Oh, please. Everyone here knows your stamina is better than that. You could leave practice and go on a three-mile run without getting winded.”
A telling heat burned at my cheeks, flooding them with color that my friends didn’t hesitate to call me out on.
“Oooooh, Layla ribbed. “Someone’s blushing.”
“I hate you,” I grunted, snatching up my own water bottle and sucking back a few healthy gulps.
“But seriously,” Charlotte asked with a wicked, sly grin, “we all know what a disaster Layla’s set-up was, so who was on the phone?”
“It was no one,” I insisted. “It was just Pierce.”
“Who’s—” Mac’s words died off as her forehead pinched in confusing. “Pierce, like your ex’s brother, Pierce?”
“Wait.” Sloane’s head shot up, the curtain of her long, glossy hair swinging around her face. “Didn’t you say he’s like, a raging asshole or something?”
“Obviously not as big an asshole as his piece-of-shit brother,” Alma muttered unhappily. “But you have told us he’s a dick.”
Layla lifted her hand in the air to draw everyone’s attention. “I believe her exact words were ‘Satan in a bespoke suit with a square jaw and sex hair.’”
Alma pointed at her in confirmation. “Yeah, that. Hot as sin but a bastard, so why’d he call you?” She suddenly sucked in a gasp and bugged her eyes out. “Please tell me you’re having lots and lots of hate sex with that loser scumbag’s older, hotter brother. That’s seriously the kind of revenge I can get behind.”
“Oh my God, no!” I cried. “You guys are being ridiculous. He just called to ask if I would watch his son off and on for a bit. He’s having issues with his sitter, and I offered to help. That’s all it is.”
“You know, I think I’ve read this story before,” Charlotte chimed in. “The one with the nanny and the hot single dad she’s working for?”
“I’ve read that one too.” Sloane giggled. “Didn’t it end up with them humping like bunnies?”
“I’m not going to be his nanny,” I said snidely. “I’m just an occasional sitter.”
“Uh huh. And his soon-to-be occasional bed warmer,” Layla said with a lascivious grin.
“I hate you guys,” I said in a monotone voice as I bent to retrieve my gym bag, hooking the strap over my shoulder. I turned and started toward the back exit on the sound of their laughter while trying my best to keep my own smile at bay.
Because despite what they were saying, I wasn’t excited about seeing Pierce tonight.
I really wasn’t!
My knock was met by what sounded like distant barking. It grew steadily louder as the dog on the other side of the door drew closer, then it ended on a loud bang and sharp whine when the rambunctious canine apparently plowed right into the door.
“Jesus, Titan,” I heard a low masculine voice say from the other side of the thick wood. “You’re gonna give yourself a freaking concussion.”
I’d just managed to curl my teeth between my lips to hide my smile when Pierce pulled the front door open. “Sorry about all the noise. He sounds more ferocious than he is, believe me.”
The laugh I tried to swallow came out as a snort when I looked at the Bernese Mountain dog making a valiant effort to get to me. “That’s okay,” I giggled. “I just hope he doesn’t have brain damage. Is he all right?”
Pierce rolled his eyes good-naturedly as he held onto the dog’s collar, and still, the pup panted and fought to the point I was afraid the poor thing was going to inadvertently choke himself. His tail swished back and forth so frantically his whole body vibrated with excited energy.
“He’s fine. He’s just a disaster.”
Somehow the dog wriggled out of his collar and bolted right for me, taking a running leap that dropped me to my ass on the front stoop.
“Jesus, Titan! No! Bad dog!” Pierce scolded. He struggled to pull the mutt off me while Titan did his best to try and happily slurp my face off. “I’m so sorry, Marin. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I laughed. I got my arms around the big animal’s neck and held him in a hug as I tried to sit up fully. “He’s just not aware of his size.” I looked at the lovable pup and couldn’t help but smile. He was so damn cute. “Are you, boy? No, you’re not.”
With my attention now focused on him, Titan seemed to calm a touch as I dragged my fingers through his long, silky fur. “You’re a good boy, huh? You just have a lot of energy. Yeah.”
He slobbered on my face one last time before turning tail and trotting back into the house like nothing happened.
Pierce held out a hand to help me off the ground, and the second his fingers closed around mine, I felt an electric shock that shot all the way up my arm.
With a wobbly smile, I tried to push the skin-trembling sensation to the back of my mind as I dusted off my rear end.
“I’m sorry about that. He gets kind of excitable around new people. He looked me up and down, taking stock, and I was suddenly very aware I was still in my clothes from rehearsal. It wasn’t any more risqué than most women’s athleisure wear, but it was tight. It had to be for dance practice, and for some reason, as his glacial gaze took me in from head to toe, the plain clothes suddenly felt extremely revealing.
He cleared his throat before lifting his gaze to my face, his expression making my stomach feel like a can of soda that had just been shaken. That fizz in my belly overflowed, and I silently berated myself for imagining something that most certainly wasn’t there. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”