Whatever.
Tonight is for the girls, and I’m going to ignore my babysitter and have as much fun as I can squeeze into the remaining hours.
I lift my glass and tap it against Brynlee and Gracie’s. “Cheers, girls.”
“Cheers.” They tap back, and I can’t help the smile spreading across my face when Kenzie moves next to the table with Easton by her side. He looks . . . better than good. He looks incredible. Easton’s a big guy, at least six foot four with broad shoulders and a thick chest that tapers down to a lean waist. He makes Charles look small.
He’s mouthwateringly delicious, and he knows it. And when he smiles at me, I melt a little inside.
Without hesitation, I move around Kenzie, and step into Easton.
He slowly wraps me in his arms, and I bury my face in his chest.
I never feel as safe as I do when I’m with him.
“Hey, princess. Happy birthday,” he whispers, and a chill skates down my spine while I breathe him in. This man . . .
I don’t say anything.
I can’t.
I just enjoy the moment for what it is, knowing it’ll be over all too soon. And like a dream you wake up from before you get to the good parts, Easton pulls away and bro-hugs Maddox and Callen as Pace and Everly join us. The waitress stops by and drops off another round of shots, then hands a bottle of expensive tequila to Maddox and tells him it’s on the house before smiling and walking away. Lucky for her, she moves quickly because the girl on Maddox’s lap looks like she’s got claws and isn’t afraid to use them.
Kenzie and Brynlee pass out shots before Everly raises hers high in the air. “Happy birthday, Lindy.”
“Happy birthday, Lindy,” is echoed by our friends, and my eyes momentarily find Easton’s before I make my wish and swallow my shot.
Gracie takes my hand in hers and guides me out onto the dance floor as “In Da Club” by 50 Cent plays over the speakers, and the DJ announces, “This song is for the birthday girl, Lindy.”
Gracie holds my hand high above her head as the girls join us, and we get lost in the music. We move together with ease, laughing and smiling. Hands wandering. Feeling eyes on us and not caring because Charles is here. So is Maddox. And he’s a badass in his own right, even if we don’t ever talk about it. But it’s the other set of eyes on me that burn straight down to my core.
I add an extra sway and bounce that might be just for Easton, but fuck it. It’s my birthday, and I don’t care. Maybe that’s the shots talking. Oh well.
I try not to torture myself with thoughts of him like that, but tonight, it doesn’t feel like torture. No. Tonight, it’s fun. Tonight, I’m in control. And I like it.
The five of us belt out the lyrics of each new song, lost in the electric energy buzzing around us, only stopping each time our server brings a new round of what feels like a never-ending round of shots to us. With each new drink, we become louder and more brazen.
Hands slide. Asses shake. Bodies grind.
Maddox still has claws-out girl sitting on his lap. Callen is dancing with two girls next to us. And Pace and Everly seem lost in each other on the dance floor.
Guess our girl didn’t need a wing woman.
After a few songs and a few more drinks, my skin grows damp, and my hair hangs heavy against the back of my neck.
I lift it off my shoulders, trying to cool down, but it’s no use when the shots have done their job and the warm alcohol courses thick through my veins, giving me nerves of steel. I glance back at the table and get a rush of adreneline when I find Easton staring back.
His eyes are glued to me. Heavy and hungry.
Only a moment later, they change, and it’s not hunger I see.
It’s something else. Someone else.
Hands slide to my hips.
Big hands. But not the ones I want.
I tear my eyes away from Easton and look over my shoulder at the man who just slid in behind me.
“I like the way you move.” He tucks me into him, and for a hot second, I think about grabbing one of the girls and telling him I’m not interested. That’s the smart thing to do. The responsible thing. But I don’t do that. I look up at him and smile instead.
He’s gorgeous.
Not really my type.
A little too preppy, but hot in a country club way.
Expensive clothes, expensive cologne, and I think maybe better eyebrows than I have.
He looks like he spends more time getting ready than I ever have, and that’s not the kind of guy I go for. But for some reason, I decide to ignore the warning signs that this guy is not for me and lean back against Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome.