“Nice to meet you both.” Ford smirks. It’s not a relaxed, laid-back kind of smile, but it’s not the scowl and grunt Willa prepared me to expect. “I’m sure my sister only sang my praises to you,” he says as he turns and unhooks the red velvet rope. “She’s got a real knack for that.” He snorts and gestures us through.
I chuckle. “A special way with words, for sure. But I know she means well. Still, makes me wonder what she said about us.”
He grins now, pointing at a table for us along the dropped dance floor. “I believe the text message I received mentioned her GI Joe brother-in-law and his jailbait fiancée.”
Bailey gasps and covers her mouth to stifle a giggle, the massive engagement ring on her finger sparkling as she does. I just shake my head.
Fucking Willa.
“For what it’s worth,” Ford continues as Bailey and I slide into our seats across from each other, “I think you make a lovely couple and my sister belongs in a straitjacket.”
Now it’s Bailey’s turn to bark out a laugh.
Ford winks at her. “And you can tell her I said that.” Then he knocks a couple times on the table and says, “You two have fun. Need anything, just let me know. I’ll probably be hiding in my office, so I don’t have to listen to fucking dance music all night long, but you can ask Karl there at the entrance to ring me.”
“Thanks for—” I stop because Ford is already walking away. I chalk him up to being abrupt and all business, but not quite the raging asshole Willa made him out to be.
“Wow, the genes in that family are something else,” Bailey says appreciatively while watching Ford walk away.
It rankles me more than it should. I straighten and give her a pouty glare.
She gives me wide eyes back. “What?” She lifts her left hand, waving her fingers to show off her ring. “I’m engaged, not dead. And you’d have to be dead to not notice that—”
“Bailey.” I stare at her flatly, and she just smirks.
“Jealous?” Her lips curve up, and I know she’s teasing me.
I swallow and hear the crackle of it in my ears. “Yes.”
Her already big eyes go wider. “Really?”
It annoys me she thinks no man could be jealous over her. That she’s learned to view herself as so undesirable I wouldn’t feel threatened by someone else.
To be frank, it’s a new feeling for me too. And I can’t help but wonder if it’s rearing its ugly head because of the nature of our relationship. The fakeness. Because I’ve never been insecure in this part of my life.
But I don’t tell her that.
I lean over the table, elbows pressed to the flat surface with my forearms crossed, and say, “If you want someone to eye-fuck, I’m right here.”
I expect her to be taken aback, but she’s not Chestnut Springs Bailey tonight. Instead, she leans in closer. “And what if I want someone to actually fuck?” She spits the words out and they land on me like rat-at-at-at from the spray of bullets in combat.
Of course, an unwanted intruder approaches the table. “Hi! I’m Dani! I’ll be your server tonight. What can I get started for you two?”
Bailey and I stare off for another beat or two before we both give into our polite instincts and turn our attention on the girl.
“I’ll have a margarita on the rocks,” Bailey answers smoothly, like she didn’t just challenge me to fuck her.
“I’ll have a Coke,” I bite out, not looking away from the woman across from me as I make my order.
The server leaves and Bailey gives her head a slow shake. “No need to be snippy at her just because your panties are twisted up over nothing.”
I clear my throat and lean back a bit in my chair, snapping out of whatever intense headspace I was just in. Of course, Bailey is right. She’s the only person with a big enough pair to call me out when I’m being a dick.
“You’re right,” I grumble, regarding the bustling dance floor.
“Have you decided which version of yourself you’re going to be tonight?”
Her question startles me, and I sit up straight again to look at her. “Pardon me?” I almost have to shout it across the space for her to hear me.
“You. You’re inconsistent. I’m gonna need a neck brace to keep up with all the different personas.”
I stare at her. Really stare. Being anonymous in a busy bar has emboldened her in more ways than one.
The truest thing I’ve ever said to her pitches up out of my throat unbidden. “I don’t know who I am anymore, Bailey.” I shout it across the table, listening to every syllable get swallowed up by the thumping bass.