Without thinking, I stand and blurt out, “What about your shirt?” My eyes are locked on Cassandra’s as blood roars in my ears.
“My what?” She looks curiously at me and then at her friend.
I can feel everyone’s eyes on me, but I figure I’m all fucking in at this point. “That tank top you wore the other day by the pool.”
A wrinkle creases between Cassandra’s eyebrows. “I literally have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“It said something about you only dating yourself,” I sputter, sounding like a complete moron, so I add weakly, “Or something like that.”
Her smile fades, and I swear the pupils in her eyes dilate as she gazes back at me. Her tone is soft when she replies, “It was just a shirt, Mr. Fletcher.”
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Jeff Holsburg from high school. Jesus, I never thought I’d see him again in my entire life. We went to junior prom together, and I remember deciding to give him my virginity that night and then panicking at the last minute because I wasn’t ready. He didn’t even have a chance to get the condom on.
Thankfully, he was really decent about it. But I swear I saw a tear in his eye when he crawled off me in the tailgate of his pickup truck out in the middle of a cornfield.
In hindsight, I wish I had just had sex with him because my first time was with a boyfriend who told me I was fat after I broke up with him. That’s one of those insults that will always stick with you no matter how much self-love you have.
But as far as double dates go, Dakota didn’t do too bad. Jeff is apparently home for the summer, taking a break from getting his law degree in Utah. He’s sweet and a little timid, just like he was in high school. I remember having to ask him to prom because he didn’t have the guts. Evidently, he’d hoped to make me his girlfriend after prom, but when we didn’t have sex, he thought that meant I didn’t like him. He was probably right.
The guy designated for Dakota was a few years older than us in school and is the bartender at the place we are currently sitting at—good old Pearl Street Pub.
Not gonna lie, I’m overdressed for the location.
But I love Pearl Street Pub. It’s a typical dive bar with sticky carpet, well-worn booths, a giant buffalo hanging from the walls, and multicolored Christmas lights that stay up year-round.
Apparently, Mr. Manbun Randal gets off at ten and will join us on the other side of the bar when he’s relieved. For now, I’ve been catching up with Jeff and watching Dakota out of the corner of my eye snap selfies with Randal, who she’s clearly hung out with before.
“So Dakota said you were nannying this summer?” Jeff asks, his brown eyes blinking back at me curiously.
“Yeah. It’s been fun. The kid is great.”
“What happened to that big corporate job you landed in Denver?”
I smile around the straw of my drink. “I just wanted a change. It feels good to be home, doesn’t it?” I divert the conversation back to him. “Are you staying with your parents?”
He winces slightly. “I’m afraid so. It just makes the most sense not to spend the money on rent when I have to go back to school in the fall. Are you with your parents too?”
“No, I’m in a guesthouse of the guy whose kid I’m nannying.”
“Guesthouse?” Jeff huffs. “Guy must be rich.”
Oh, if only you knew, Jeff.
“So one more year of law school, and then you’re fighting crime?”
“I guess so. I have to pass the bar exam first.”
“You were always so smart in school. I’m sure you’ll do well.”
“Not as smart as you,” Jeff replies knowingly.
I laugh that comment off and recross my legs, noticing Jeff’s eyes linger on my leg. Disappointment casts over me when I realize that I don’t get that warm feeling in my body that erupts whenever Max looks at me.
Honestly, I’m not sure anyone has ever looked at me the way Max does. He looks at me like I’m some sort of foreign creature he has to study to understand. What’s worse? I like it.
Which is stupid because I’m moving on from Max. He made his intention very clear last week. Plus, Dakota said it herself, women probably throw themselves at him every day. He could easily find someone who’s a lot less complicated than his kid’s nanny to hook up with. And a hell of a lot hotter.
I pull the front of my shirt off my body, feeling flush all of a sudden. “Should we get another drink?”
“Definitely,” Jeff answers, bouncing his knee nervously.
Unfortunately, this feels a bit like it’s going to be a repeat of junior prom night, and that wasn’t a happy ending for either of us.
My mood is markedly different for the rest of poker night. For starters, my daughter left with Wyatt. She got bored of playing cards shortly after Cassandra and her friend left. Then out of nowhere, Wyatt asked if Everly wanted to help him bottle-feed his baby goat Millie in the morning. We all call Millie a dog goat because she acts more like a pet than a farm animal. Which means my kid packed her overnight bag in less than ten seconds.
They took off over an hour ago, and since then, I have nothing to distract my poisonous thoughts, so I’m just brooding over Cassandra out on a fucking date. I’m also losing a shitload of money because I’m too distracted to pay attention to my cards.
“Max, what is your problem?” Josh barks, snapping my eyes up from the spot on the table I’m burning a hole through.
“Nothing, I’m fine,” I snap, frowning at him.
Josh looks at Dean. Those two used to hate each other back when Dean offered to be Lynsey’s baby daddy over Josh, the actual baby daddy, but now they seem in cahoots with each other. I don’t like it.
“Are you bothered about Everly at Wyatt’s cabin?” Dean asks, watching me pensively. “Your brothers’ cabins are kind of in the middle of nowhere, right?”
“Yeah, but I’m not worried about that. Everly loves it up there.”
“Then what has your panties in a twist?” Calder inquires, his brows wagging like he already knows the answer.
“Let’s play another hand. Whose deal is it?”
“Yours,” they all answer in unison.
Rolling my eyes, I grab the deck of cards and begin aggressively shuffling. Cassandra has been out for over an hour now. If it was a bad date, she’d likely be home by now, right? My house isn’t far from downtown. A five-minute Uber ride at best. Maybe she needs a ride? I haven’t had any whiskey in a while, so I could pick her up. Maybe I should text her to make sure she’s safe. She does live on my property, so that makes her my responsibility.
Me: Do you need a ride home?
I hold my breath when I see the typing bubbles pop up and then instantly deflate when they go away. I’m staring at my phone as I try to shuffle again and curse when cards slip out of my hands and clatter to the floor.
“Fuck,” I growl, pushing my chair back to pick them up.
“Jesus Christ, I can’t watch this anymore,” Luke bellows from the far end of the table. “You were barely fine before the nanny left, and since then, you are low-key losing your fucking mind. Just admit it already.”