Until now.
“It was just a damned dream. It wasn’t real. Get over it,” I muttered to myself before putting on the finishing touches.
With a cleansing breath, I re-entered the main room. Going out again might be just what I needed after all. A fresh, fresh start.
Paige whistled at my appearance, and even Fiona told me that I looked hot, which was a nice ego boost considering I still felt like roadkill. I returned the compliments and grabbed my purse.
“Before we go, I need you to promise me that you won’t let me get that drunk again,” I told my two best friends. “Seriously…swear it. Both of you.”
“Of course. We’ve got you,” Paige insisted, looping her arm through mine.
Her flippant response did not fill me with confidence. I needed more assurance than that. I already had one husband I didn’t know what to do with, I couldn’t handle a second one.
“Fiona?” I asked, looking around Paige.
“Yes, I’ll keep an eye on you,” she answered, solemnly.
“Hey!” Paige glared at us both.
Laughing, we headed for the elevator. While we waited for it to arrive, I felt a vibration coming from my tiny bag. I pulled out my phone expecting a random social media notification. Instead, I saw Dean’s name under the text message icon. With a fluttering in my stomach, I opened it.
“Oh, crap. It’s Dean. What do I do? He wants to meet up and talk, and I did kind of tell him that I would.”
“Invite him along. We’ll be there to keep you from mauling him again. If you’re completely sure that’s what you want.” Paige lifted one eyebrow suggestively.
I opened my mouth to tell her how ridiculous it was to invite him to another bar, full of alcohol and bad decisions. Then I thought it through. Meeting in public was smarter. After that stupid dream I wasn’t entirely sure that I trusted myself to be alone with him. If he got naked in front of me, I might agree to anything, potentially including staying married to him.
And I trusted Fiona, at least, to keep me in line.
Besides, I wanted to get this over with. I didn’t like the unfinished feeling that hovered between us. Once we had a plan, I could enjoy the rest of our stay.
Before I could talk myself out of it, I shot back a message telling him where we were going. Then I shoved my phone back in my purse. I half hoped that he would refuse or say that he had another bachelor thing to do. And if not, I didn’t want to see it either.
The elevator dinged.
“Let’s go.”
* * *
An hourlater the three of us were tucked into a dark, secluded booth. The club was smaller than one we had started at last night, but it was undeniably a club. Rhythmic music thumped from the speakers, bodies gyrated on the dance floor, and scantily clad cocktail waitresses and shot girls wound their way through the packed room with admirable agility. The vibe was worryingly seductive. Not exactly conducive to talking. Or keeping my hands off forbidden brothers.
Unsurprisingly, Paige was eating it up, scoping out the room like a predator stalking her prey. Fiona was smiling, but from the way she fiddled with her glass I could tell that she was uncomfortable. This was as far from her tiny, quiet bookstore as she could possibly get, but she was first and foremost a good friend.
And then there was me. I was so nervous that I had already downed two drinks. It was just enough to take the edge off, but not make me lose control. I wasn’t looking for a repeat performance of last night.
I was aimlessly staring out into the dance floor when I felt him. Literally,felt him.
It made absolutely zero sense, but I knew the second that he had walked into the room. It was a bit like a shiver mixed with an electric shock. Sure enough, I looked towards the door and spotted a familiar tall form plowing through the crowd.
“Hey,” he said simply, when he reached our table.
“Hi. Umm. How are you feeling?” I asked, groping for something to say.
“Better.” His gaze searched my face. “You?”
My mind blanked. “Better.”
Paige fake coughed and leaned across the table. “Well, this is exciting. Maybe we should hold off on talking until we get some dancing in. Who’s your friend, Dean?”