And with that statement, all his harrowing suspicions that Isabella had been the “other girl” at Justin’s lake house were confirmed. Though he’d yet to see the picture – Reagan’s phone had been dead the one time she’d tried to show him, and he’d been too busy with damage control duties to search for it on Facebook or anywhere else – he knew now there was no one else it could be. His world had just gotten exponentially smaller, and if he didn’t act quickly it would close in on Reagan too. He couldn’t risk that, not tonight. Not with everything going as perfectly as it had been.
As the thoughts rolled through Ian’s mind, Isabella was scanning his body possessively. “Seeing you here was a pleasant surprise though.” One last step closed all but an inch of space between them. As she raised a hand, prepared to run it up the length of his jacket in an intimate gesture, Ian grabbed her wrist to stop her. His grip was firm, just a little more than was necessary so there would be no confusion. The tactic worked, he couldn’t help but to notice the look of discomfort and surprise that fluttered over her face.
“I’ve got someone to get back to.” Then he released her hand, still contemplating whether he should rejoin Reagan, or remove Justin from the equation of obstacles first.
“A girlfriend?” From the indignation in her voice, Ian assumed Isabella wasn’t used to getting turned down.
“Yes.”
A little laugh escaped her throat. “Funny you didn’t mention her the other night. Seems to me if she was important enough, you would have said something about her at Mojito’s.”
It was Ian’s turn to laugh now, sincerely amused by her catty return. “Seems to me you wouldn’t have cared even if I had. I mean, you obviously didn’t seem to care that Justin had a girlfriend, did you?”
And with that, Ian left Isabella at the bar, a look of shock tearing over her face.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Ian deposited the drinks with the girls, then kissed Reagan lightly on the cheek before making the excuse to locate the restroom. She didn’t seem to mind his extended absence, she was caught up in the night, and the fun she was having radiated from her complexion. The plan was to keep it that way, and to remove any threat to her joy before she even saw it coming.
So naturally Ian had absolutely no intention of hiding away in the bathroom. Though he knew Reagan had already had it out with the guy, there was a conversation he needed to have with Justin as well. Just to make sure things were clear from this point forward.
He spotted him almost immediately, dressed sloppily in pants and a shirt that were several sizes too big, his longish hair laced with sweat was hanging in his eyes. It appeared as though he were trying to get close to a petite blond in a painted on blue dress, and from the looks of it, he wasn’t having much success. Ian rolled his eyes at the amateur technique. He’d never understood what Reagan had seen in him, and it perplexed him even more as he watched this train wreck from a distance.
As he neared, he paused his determined stride just long enough to throw his strong arm around the guy’s shoulders. “Hey buddy.” Ian enjoyed the look of sheer terror that passed through Justin’s glazed eyes at the sound of his voice. “You and I need to have a little talk.” And before he could respond, Ian dragged him forcefully over the side and into the shadows of the club.
Using every bit of his strength, he slammed Justin’s back up against the wall and grabbed the front of his shirt. Practically lifting him off the ground, he snarled into his face. “You’ve got some nerve coming here tonight, and bringing that trashy whore with you.” It appeared as though Justin was going to stammer a reply, but Ian didn’t give him a chance. Slamming his back into the wall again, he continued, “You’re lucky I found you in a public place, and that I actually care enough not to ruin Petra’s birthday. But I swear that if you so much as even look in Reagan’s direction tonight, if you even think about going anywhere near her, I’ll put you in the hospital. Now get your shit, and get out. And don’t make the mistake of showing up around her anywhere again. We clear?”
“Is there a problem over here?” A man dressed all in black, looking very much like a pro-bodybuilder, was making his way over to them.
“No, no problem.” Ian quickly released Justin, who slumped to his feet. The guy tossed a wary glance at the bouncer as a bead of sweat rolled from his greasy head. But wisely, he didn’t say a word. “He was just leaving, weren’t you?”
After thinking it over a minute, Justin nodded his head. “Yeah, sure. I’m on my way out.”
Satisfied, Ian adjusted his jacket, and left the matter to the more-than-capable professional.
By the time Ian had rejoined the group of friends, a satisfied smirk spread across his lips, the slightly drunk Derek had broken through the crowd and made his way over to Petra. As he draped an arm around her shoulders, completely invading the personal space she seemed to be coveting, he leaned in for a sloppy kiss, only to get a hand of rejection to his face.
“Happy birthday babe.” He slurred, seemingly undeterred.
“I’m not your babe. Yet.” She corrected. Then looked to the group around her who was watching on in amusement. “This is my new friend Derek.” She began. “Derek, this is Ian, Sabrina, and Mike. Reagan you already know.” A plea for help shot out from her eyes as they settled on Reagan, who couldn’t help but smile at the show of affection.
But the smile quickly faded. A face she’d only seen in pictures, and hoped never to see in real life, had passed behind their group as the girl slinked her way to the dance floor. In a flash of panic, Reagan felt the blood drain from her face as she clutched Petra’s arm and pulled her closer.
“What is she doing here?” Though she was trying her best not to make her resentment obvious to everyone else, she couldn’t help but notice from the corner of her eye the look of concern Ian sent her as she hissed into Petra’s ear. Trying to ignore it, she turned away just a little more.
“I don’t know.” The confusion was as evident in Petra’s voice as it was on her face. “I don’t recognize her. Who is she?”
“You don’t recognize her?” Reagan’s voice squeaked out in disbelief. “That’s the boyfriend stealing slut who slept with Justin over spring break!”
“That’s her?” Petra’s jaw dropped at disbelief. “What the hell is she doing here?”
“That was my question.”
“Well, I didn’t invite her. Not that it means much now,” Petra tilted her head as she scrutinized every particle of the girl, “but you’re definitely cuter than her. And better dressed. And rumor has it that they’ve already broken up, so that should make you happy.” She offered a smile with the new information.
“What?”
“Yep. Couple of days ago. Or so I’ve heard.”
“Why?” Reagan wanted to know. No, not wanted to know, needed to know. She needed to know if Justin had been just as much of an ass to this new girl of his, or if he’d reserved the behavior just for her. She wasn’t sure why, but somehow if he were to blame again, it would make her feel better about her situation. Give her something close to closure so she could confidently move on.
“She found another guy.” Petra shrugged.
Well, it wasn’t closure. But Reagan still allowed herself to feel a little satisfaction. “Karma.” She decided.
Petra nodded in obligated agreement and took another sip before turning back to her group.
The satisfaction was short lived and soon forgotten, however, when the boyfriend stealing slut sauntered over and laid her claws on a blonde hottie standing in close proximity. That blonde hottie, Reagan noted when he turned to look over at the interference, turned out to be none other than Brett Hanson.
“You’ve got to be kidding.” Reagan murmured to herself, as she watched the interaction of the girl whispering something in his ear, which he returned with a polite smile. To her infuriation, she couldn’t make out the exact words being said, and while she realized she was staring – maybe a little too intensely – her curio
sity was absolutely killing her. It’s not my problem, it’s not my problem, it’s not my problem... she began repeating to herself. And it wasn’t. She had Ian, someone who was not only one of the most attractive guys on campus, but was also already one of her closest friends. She didn’t want Brett. She didn’t need to get to know him now. Yet she still got a certain amount of satisfaction out of watching him turn away from her, and watching her pout off in another direction.
The fact that he was even here showed fate must have an evil sense of humor. No, she corrected herself. Not fate. There was absolutely no fathomable way that after a week of tracking him down and checking off his qualities, fate would have plopped Brett Hanson down in her lap like that. Well, in near proximity to her lap at least. No, this could only be the doing of someone more devious, more conniving and – above all - more loyal to her than fate. This had Petra’s handwriting all over it, and she’d probably had it arranged since that first day at Blue Nickel.
“Petra,” She pulled her friend close again, ignoring the conversation she’d just interrupted. “Have you met him yet?” Reagan whispered.
“Him who?” Petra was trying to push the tiara back into place as she spoke.
“Him him.” Pointing her finger right in front of Petra’s face, both girls followed her lead.
“Oh.” Was all she could say, but the look of guilt confirmed Reagan’s suspicions had been correct.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
“This was my backup plan for you.” She shrugged her apology. “In case you hadn’t worked up the courage to meet him for yourself.”
“Oh my god.” The groan escaped her before she could stop it.
“I didn’t realize this thing with Ian was going to happen, and it’s not like I could uninvite him. Sorry.”
As appreciative as she was that Petra had gone to such lengths to help her, there was a little twinge of something else in her gut she couldn’t quite place. “This could get awkward.” Reagan decided.
“Maybe for you, but not for him.”
“What do you mean?”
“He doesn’t know you.”
“Wait.” Reagan shook her head a little. “What?”
“You know all kinds of things about him, but remember, he’s never met you. Hasn’t really even seen you as far as you know. Well,” she corrected, “except for that one time in the weight room. But still.”
“Are you all right?” The depth of Ian’s voice had a calming effect, and suddenly all she wanted to do was curl into his arms, into the warmth of his chest.
“Yep. Fine. Why?”
“You seem edgy.”
“Really?” It wasn’t surprise that prompted the question, but denial. Then she forced herself to shake it off. Everything was okay as long as she was with him. “No, everything’s fine.” She smiled.
Or at least, everything would’ve been fine, had Derek not turned to see who the girls were staring at. Or had he not yelled a greeting to Brett over the music from across the room, securing everyone’s attention in their general direction. Or had Brett not started wandering over to join his friend.
No, Reagan was really not okay now.
She moved slightly, inching a little closer to Ian, who noted the movement and was only too pleased to be able to slip a hand protectively against her waist and guide her smoothly over. Derek and Brett passed casual phrases before the introductions began, but when it came time to introduce Reagan, Brett stopped him there. “I know you from somewhere.”
The comment was so matter of fact, so blatantly certain that it caught Reagan off guard. Once again, all the blood went rushing from her face straight to her heart, where it thudded so hard she was sure the entire room could hear it over the music. Which embarrassing situation was he about to bring up? What possible excuse could she make up to justify the situation?
Panic had set in. She opened her mouth to talk, but the words wouldn’t come out. Ian strengthened his grip a little, a subtle reminder that he was still there, still supporting her.
Petra, noticing her friend was suddenly speechless, rushed to her side to intervene. Managing to make a smooth entrance into the conversation before any true damage could be done, she took it upon herself to continue the introductions.
“I’m Petra.” She elbowed Derek as though he’d done something wrong by not introducing her first, a diversion she’d explain to him later. “I don’t think we’ve been introduced yet.”
“So you’re the birthday girl. I’ve heard a lot about you.” He exchanged a quick look with Derek, but Petra could read between the lines.
“I’m sure you have.” She offered with a gracious eye-roll. “You have no idea how much I’ve heard about you.”
“Is that right?” Brett looked over to Derek with eyebrows raised, who merely shrugged and lifted his glass to take a sip. But he wasn’t so easily diverted. “You do look very familiar to me.”
“Do I?” The phrase barely escaped Reagan’s lips, so busy was she reviewing all the many ways she might have embarrassed herself over the course of the week – the soccer field, the gym...
“Yeah. I’m trying to think...” His eyes squinted, as though searching through the vast bank of his memory.
...the sidewalk in front of the hot dog stand...
Then he snapped his fingers as his mouth broke into a wide grin at the sudden recollection, and Reagan’s eyes widened with nervous anticipation.
“The restaurant.”
The restaurant, of course. It was the one place she hadn’t thought of. The one place she couldn’t be embarrassed by - well, not too embarrassed anyway. But it was where all the insanity that week had started, and had eventually led her to back to Ian. Wow, was it only a week ago? It felt like so much longer.
Managing to regain her composure surprisingly quickly, she squinted her eyes as though trying to recall. “The restaurant?”
Brett nodded his head and a curl bounced out of place. “The Blue Nickel Café. Derek and I were there last week, and I think we sat at the table behind you.”
“Is that right?” She thought she was getting pretty good at pretending that she had no idea what he was talking about.
“Yep. I never forget a beautiful face.” He was smiling at her, then caught Ian’s expression. “No offense.” He corrected himself.
If only you knew, she thought as she stifled a nervous laugh.
From another corner of the room, Brett’s name was called. He turned to acknowledge his friends, but quickly returned his attention to Reagan.
“Well, Reagan, it was nice to finally put a name with the face.”
“Yeah. You too.”
“You’re a lucky guy.” Brett reached out his hand to Ian to smooth over any lingering resentment, and Ian took the opportunity to crush it in his grip. Then, after promising to come back to talk with Petra again as he shook out the pain from his fingers, he disappeared into the crowd.
“No problem.” Petra encouraged the exit.
“I’m gonna grab another.” Derek announced soon after Brett had left, lifting his empty glass in the air to acknowledge his deficiency. “Want one?”
“Nope.” Petra declined. “I want to dance.”
Derek shrugged his shoulders, handed his glass off to Reagan and followed Petra into the dancing crowd instead.
“Well, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” Ian asked once they were out of earshot.
“A lot less awkward than I’d expected.” She admitted.
“Think I scared him away?”
Reagan laughed. “Probably.”
Ian took her hand, raising it to his lips. “Good.” He glanced sideways, watching their friends moving to the high-energy music. “Want to join in?”
“I might need another one of these first.” She indicated her empty glass.
“In that case, I’ll be right back.” He grabbed her glass, and the one Derek had left her with, and quickly went off.
It was less than a second after he left that Reagan’s
smile faded into a frown of indignation. She’d spotted Justin crossing the dance floor, and though his steps seemed urgent, determined almost, the mere sight of him caused her stomach to churn into a sour ball of resentment.
Apparently he’d spotted her too, because he’d changed direction and was moving directly toward her now.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Ian’s not so brilliant sense of timing was occurring to him again as he stopped short before he could even make it to the bar. Instead, he found himself hijacked by the same slinky black dress that had been so desperate for his attention only a few minutes before. He’d seen her work her way around the room, and fail in her attempts to latch on to a new guy. Apparently it was time to start round number two.
“Can we talk?” Isabella’s slur was more prominent now, and the whine in her voice had increased exponentially.
“Depends.” Ian’s grip on his irritation was slipping. Quickly. Setting his jaw, he clenched the glass in his hand until his knuckles turned white, barely glancing in her direction as he spoke. “What do you want?”
“Besides you?” If attention was what she was after, Ian was going to give it to her. But instead of the flirtation she desired, he turned a dark glare on her. “Don’t be mad.” Though she pushed her bottom lip out into a playful pout, there was a hesitancy in her voice that suggested his meaning had been well conveyed.
“Don’t be mad?” Exasperation filled his throat and bubbled out into his words. “I told you very plainly that I was with someone. With someone, Isabella. That means I don’t want to be with you. Which is exactly what I told you at Mojitos too.”
Tilting her hip, she took a step back while resentment washed over her expression. “That was her over there, wasn’t it? In the red dress? I saw the way you put your arm around her.” It was the first time he noticed she had a hint of an accent, something exotic that seemed more prominent now that she was upset.
Ian began counting under his breath, a tactic to control his quickly rising temper. His goal was to get to five, as the usual ten seemed unrealistic considering the circumstances. Three was as far as he got, and even at that he was surprised. “Yeah, it is.”
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