“You think I don’t know that, Harley Hope? But that doesn’t mean you have to pretend like you’re dead. I mean, look at you! You are the prettiest girl in the whole damned place, and here you are, wastin’ it.” She hugged my head against her chest, basically burying my face in her boobs as she petted my head as if I were a brand-new puppy.
There was no stopping my grin.
“And for the record, the only way you could possibly be a downer on my party is if you weren’t a part of it. Now, get that gorgeous ass up and do a shot with me.”
“Are you crazy?”
She hauled me up onto my ridiculous heels, her grin wide and her gaze hazy. “Tonight I am.”
I hesitated. Sympathy lined her features.
Because Jenna?
She got it in a way no one else could.
She squeezed my hand. “It’s fine, Hope. I promise. You deserve to have a little fun, too.”
I shook my head, and I gave, letting myself get lost for a little while. Because I knew that, come morning, reality would be waiting for me. It wasn’t going anywhere.
Two hours later, I stumbled out the front door and into the slowed warmth of the Alabama night. Streetlamps poured a dingy glow across the sidewalk, the area still busy with people moving from one place to the next, the bouncer still at the door standing guard.
Jenna had insisted she’d walk me out, but I’d refused. The last thing I wanted was to break into her fun. But it was time for mine to end. I’d already indulged in a way I never allowed myself to do.
Head down, I rushed toward the street where a small line of cabs waited to whisk away the revelers of the night.
My heel caught in a crack in the sidewalk. My senses dulled, too slow to process it. The way it tipped me and sent me fumbling forward.
I gasped, nothing I could do but anticipate the nasty faceplant.
That gasp only grew when a big arm was suddenly around my waist, hauling me back onto my feet, steadying me there.
My chest heaved, and I already knew by the time he turned me around that it was him.
Those eyes searched me, carefully, the man almost out of breath as he demanded, “Are you okay?”
I stepped back, trying to get my bearings.
I blinked so many times the man had to think I was crazy.
But Mr. Panty Dropper was right there.
Hands on the outside of my arms, the contact sending tingles flying across my flesh.
The worry in his expression shifting to a wry grin. Face so beautiful I couldn’t help but stare.
Damn that shot.
Because ideas thrummed through my mind. The dangerous, dangerous kind. Ones that made me question and want and wish I could have something more in my life.
But I didn’t need more. I had enough—more than enough—and I knew I had to be content with that.
“You look fine to me,” he said, smirk kicking up at the corner of his mouth.
Squeezing my eyes closed, I clamored around for my senses, for something to say, mortified the second it came tumbling out. “Are you stalking me now?”
Amusement played all over that mouth. “Uh . . . you’re serious?”
I crossed my arms over my chest, trying to put up a wall, a shield, because I could feel this man everywhere. “Of course, I’m serious?”
Leave it to me that it came out a question.
A disbelieving chuckle rolled from him, and he hooked his thumb toward the door behind him. “I was standing right here when you came out. Just put my friend in the cab to make sure she made it home safe. You’re the one that came blundering out, Princess. You’re lucky I was out here to save you.”
He took a single step forward, filling the space.
Fear tumbled through me.
Not in a way that made me concerned for my physical well-being. But for the fact this man made me feel things I couldn’t. Not yet. Someday, maybe. But right then, I didn’t have that luxury.
“Someone’s feeling a little full of themselves tonight.” It was all a rumbly tease.
“Not even close,” I managed, gulping around the words.
His expression was back to doing that gentle, knowing thing. His head tipped to the side, and the gorgeous man appeared as if he might actually have the capacity to understand. As if he could see right through me to the heart of the matter.
I didn’t know if that comforted or terrified.
“I really need to go,” I told him.
He reached out, tender when he barely grazed my chin with his knuckle.
I gasped.
Shocked by the zing that raced through my nerves. Blooming and tugging right through my middle.
Hooked.
A tether drawing me in his direction.
A magnetic force.
Powerful and potent and somehow soft.
Tucking his bottom lip between his teeth, he seemed to contemplate before he nodded and stepped back, tucking his hands into his pockets. “Yeah. I know. Go home, sweet girl. You don’t belong here. Just . . .” He wavered and then said, “Can you do me one favor?”