They share a look I can’t decipher.
“What happened to your brother?” I interject.
Evan checks our surroundings. “He was hanging around the wrong crowd while he lived in New York, but he’s back on track and getting the help he needs.”
I press my hand over my heart. “That’s good to hear.”
Julian pauses his death-stare contest to spare me an unreadable look, only to break eye contact first. “Is he adjusting to his new job all right?”
“Yes. Thank you for helping him get back on his feet. It was hard for him to find a job again with a record, and you were the first company willing to give him a chance.”
“I’m glad I could help.” Julian closes the gap between us until I’m not sure where my body ends and his begins.
I take a small step forward, which Julian matches with one of his own. When I raise my foot to stomp on his again, Julian clamps his hand around my hip, stopping me.
The heat of his palm singes my skin. Evan’s eyes bounce from Julian to me before landing back on the mercurial man behind me.
“Well, Dahlia, it was nice catching up with you, but I should probably head out. Got an early morning tomorrow.”
“No problem. Nice seeing you.” I tamp down my annoyance with a smile.
Julian tenses behind me. Evan doesn’t spare me another glance as he disappears into the crowd.
I escape Julian’s hold and turn toward him. “What the hell was that about?”
Julian ignores me as he drains the rest of his whiskey.
“I asked you a question.” I poke at his chest.
“He’s not your type.”
“And how would you know that?” I blurt out.
“I just know.”
“Feel free to share, since clearly I don’t.” Julian being so acutely aware of my needs rubs me the wrong way.
Julian’s nose scrunches with distaste. “He’s too nice.”
“I’m sure that seems like a negative trait to you, but to the rest of us, nice is good. Actually, it’s the freaking bare minimum.”
His eyes flicker over my face for an extra beat. While Evan’s perusal didn’t even make me blink twice, Julian’s has my body temperature spiking.
“You’d get bored within a month.”
“How would you know? You’ve never been in a relationship.”
“That might be true, but I know you.”
My lungs stall. “Oh, is that right?”
He remains quiet as he raises his empty glass toward the bartender. I’m not sure what makes me bolder—the annoyance pumping through my system or my insatiable need to peek behind the curtain of Julian’s mind.
“Maybe I need a man like Evan,” I say. “Someone kind and caring and willing to treat me well.”
“That’s fine, but you also want someone to challenge you, and Evan—the town’s biggest people-pleaser—isn’t it.”
Shock is quickly replaced by horror.
Oh God. Did Julian and I screw each other up so badly that we can’t find happiness with others because we’re always looking for a fight?
I shake my head. “I’m not looking for a confrontational partner.”
“That’s not what I said.”
“Then what?”
He pauses for a few moments before speaking again. “There’s a difference between someone challenging you to be the best version of yourself because they care”—he sneers—“and someone looking for a fight.”
I hold my breath.
He clears his throat. “Face it. You’d walk all over the guy in your glittery red-bottom boots, and he’d probably thank you for it.”
“Damn right he should. These babies are beautiful and expensive.” I knock my heels together.
“That comment alone makes you worthy of your costume because only a walking, talking red flag would smile like that.”
I yank myself free of his gravitational pull. “Excuse me?”
“Your costume.” His gaze slowly travels down my body, emphasizing his point.
“La voy a matar,” I whisper to myself.
“You didn’t know?” Julian traces the tip of the triangular piece of paper.
“No. Lily put it together.” I sharply inhale as the tip of his finger teases the sensitive spot between my dress strap and my shoulder.
“Hm.” He pulls away all too quickly, his hand flexing before it tightens into a fist.
La voy a matar: I’m going to kill her.
A shiver wracks through me despite the warm air clinging to my skin.
Fuck. How can a single swipe of his finger against my skin feel this good?
I’m grateful for the lack of lighting or else he would have noticed how much his touch affected me.
A bartender places a full glass of whiskey in front of Julian, and I snatch it before he has a chance to take a sip. I manage a single swallow before handing it back to him with a cough. “That’s disgusting.”
That’s what you get for stealing Julian’s drink.
“To you.” Julian places his mouth right over the stain my lipstick left behind and takes a sip.
My stomach muscles clench as he smears half the mark in the process. It’s the closest his lips have been to mine since college, and it makes my body buzz in the same way.
I wouldn’t be surprised if the gutter started charging me rent with how often my mind hangs out there.
I drag my eyes toward his. “Since when do you drink whiskey?”
“Since I can afford the expensive kind.”
“How much did you pay for that?”
“Enough to appreciate every last drop.” He takes another sip, sending a zing down my spine in the process as he watches me with hawklike fascination.
Screw the gutter. I’m going straight to hell for the way I press my thighs together.
“Please tell me you didn’t pay more than a hundred bucks for that.” He frowns.
“Two hundred?”
My question is met with the pounding music around us.
“A thousand?” My voice breaks at the end.
“I don’t expect someone who orders strawberry daiquiris to understand.”
I bat my lashes. “You know, maybe if you spent less time watching me and more time actively finding a girlfriend, you wouldn’t be chronically single and working eighty hours a week to fill the empty void of your existence.”
His frown reveals far too much. “Last time I checked, both of us were single.”
“I’m the one who dated a toxic, controlling man for too many years. What’s your excuse?”
I take his blank expression as a challenge.
“Are you unable to make a woman come?” I tease.
His eyes narrow into two slits.
“Maybe you’re a one-minute man?”
His deep breath says more than any words can.
“They have coaches and medicine for that kind of thing, so no need to have it stop you from finding love.”
Julian flips the script on me as he places his hand on my hip and squeezes. Before I have a chance to comment, his palm travels up the side of my body, brushing across my rib cage.
I stop breathing as his hand wraps around the back of my neck. The firm way he holds me isn’t uncomfortable, but I squirm in place regardless.