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“I do. Mack follows you.”

“Oh.”

“She misses you.”

I don’t know what to say to that. I try to smile, but it’s half-hearted. My cousin misses me. Too bad. She knows what she did. “How are you guys? Good? Happy? Trouble in paradise?” My laugh is impossibly fake.

His is nervous. “We got into a fight on the way here.”

“Oh.”

“Mrs. Davis was drinking…” He looks around the room. Stops on Oliver, who’s currently heading in this direction. “Your friend?”

“Yeah. One of Forest’s friends.”

He nods. “Another tattoo artist?”

“Yeah.”

“Didn’t think that was your type.”

“Yours either.”

“Fair enough.” His laugh gets easier. “She… she really does miss you.”

“Are you her keeper now?”

“No. She hates when I get involved.” He scans the room, no doubt looking for Mackenzie. “I thought you’d want to know. You two were like sisters.”

“I know.”

He shrugs none of my business. “You look good, Skye.”

“I am good.”

“Forest treating you well?”

“Yes. Of course.” I force a smile. Diego and I were friendly before Mack slept with him. But we weren’t really friends. “And you and Mackenzie? Lying on the grass watching the clouds? Making out on the beach? Coming so hard you wake the neighbors?”

“No.” He laughs. “She’s not the loud type.”

“Oh.” That is too much information. But I’m the one who asked. “I…”

“Need another drink,” Oliver interrupts. He nods hey to Diego. Hands over my drink. Takes a long sip of his. “How’s uh, grad school was it?”

“Yeah. A PhD. Good. A lot of work.” He offers his hand. “How’s the shop?”

Oliver shakes. “It’s great. Making a killing.” He studies my expression looking for… something. I can’t read him. “Your fiancée went outside with Forest.”

Diego frowns. “I should find her.”

“Do that.” Oliver smiles, serene.

Which is weird as fuck. Oliver isn’t a smiley guy.

He waits for Diego to leave, then he turns to me. “What’s the deal with that guy?”

“Honestly, I don’t know,” I say.

“Mm-hmm.”

“What’s that mean?”

“He seems more like your type.”

“He’s obviously very engaged.”

“Yeah.” He takes a long sip. Raises a brow, suggesting something.

God knows what. I clear my throat. Try to think of some way to change the subject.

“You’re doing this for Forest?” he asks.

“It’s more about…”

“Getting in his pants?”

Ahem.

“He’s a good-looking guy.”

“Yes.” I swallow a sip. Fuck, it’s strong—almost all vodka—but not strong enough to save me from this awkward conversation.

“Tall.”

“Aren’t you?”

“That’s how I know.”

“Okay…” I stare at my drink.

“Holden has been giving him a lot of shit at the shop. Testing him.”

“Sounds like Holden.”

He nods true. “He keeps asking Forest for his permission to fuck you.”

I choke on my drink.

“Not your type?”

“No, I…”

“Like quiet guys?”

“Yeah.” I take another sip. “You, uh, don’t talk about girls. Is there someone special? Someone not so special? Several women waiting for a booty call?”

He shakes his head nice try. “I don’t really date.”

“All wham, bam, thank you, ma’am?”

“Something like that.” He downs his glass of bourbon. “You?”

“It’s been a while.”

“Because you’re waiting for Forest.”

Ahem.

“Why don’t you find him? Make a point of making out in front of everyone? That’s why you’re doing it.”

“I’m helping my friend.”

“So you can kiss him.”

“I’m still helping him.” And we’re not—he said no kissing anyway. But then he kissed me. And, God, it’s confusing, and the vodka isn’t helping.

He shakes his head bad idea. “You’re helping him make his ex jealous. Who’s going to help you make him jealous?”

“That’s uh…”

“You want me to do it?” He pats his lap. “I’ll be gentle.”

Is he serious? I can’t tell. At all.

First Holden. Now this.

Did I wake up with magic boobs? Are my pheromones now super-powered? Why are all these hot guys propositioning me?

“I, uh…” He takes my hand. Pulls me onto his lap. Motions to Forest.

Forest cuts through the crowd, wine bottle in hand. He looks right to us. Frowns.

Sneers even.

“He gets jealous easily,” I say.

“Exactly.” Oliver leans in to whisper. “Pretend I said something really funny?”

My laugh is fake.

“Funnier than that.”

Uh…

He chuckles. “You’re bad at this. Probably good. So you won’t actually help him get her back.”

“He doesn’t want that.” Maybe. In theory. I think.

“How do you want him?”

“Huh?”

“In your mouth? Your ass? Your cunt? You want him pressing you against the wall? Pinning you to his bed? Taking you in a swimming pool?” He wraps his arm around my waist. “Or do you want to climb on top of him and fuck him senseless?”

“Uh…” Fuck I’m blushing everywhere.

And Forest is staring at us, his eyes hazy, his fists curled.

He’s jealous of someone.

Is this stupidity actually working?

God, men are such base creatures. It’s always sex and possession and anger.

Forest crosses the room to us.

I slide off Oliver’s lap. “Hey. How’s Mackenzie?”

“Fine.” He takes my hand. Pulls me closer. “You want another drink?”

“Okay.” I look back to Oliver. When he nods go for it, I turn to Forest. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Come on.” He leads me to the bar, grabs a bottle of vodka, cuts through the crowd.


Tags: Crystal Kaswell Romance