Last: A Copperslane Romance Novel

by Garnet Christie

  “Neither do I.” Cora’s sitting straighter than me.

  “Sorry.” Lizzie muffles a giggle and ducks her head. “I wasn’t trying to be weird. It’s just that . . .” Her words die, and she wraps a long strand of hair around her finger.

  “Oh God.” Cora chuckles. “Just spit it out, Liz.”

  “He has a brother, and he’s single.” Lizzie rushes the words out and then grins at me. “I told him—”

  “Lizzie, no.” The thought of sitting at a restaurant, waddling through the unsettling small talk and the whole “what do you do” thing, has dread circulating in my limbs.

  “Bianca, please.” She bats her eyes. “His name is Cliff. I met him last week, and he’s so nice.”

  I groan, slumping in my chair. “It will be awkward.”

  “It won’t be.” She raises her hands and waves them back and forth. “I can be with you, and it doesn’t have to be a date.”

  “Sheesh.” Cora frowns. “Am I dead or something? What about my dude?”

  “Hush.” Lizzie pats Cora’s knee. “If you’re not getting set up it’s because you’re so darn picky.” She narrows her eyes. “No muscles, remember?”

  “Blech.” Cora’s face scrunches up. Resting her elbows on the table, she bobs her head. “Yeah, never mind. Forget I’m here.”

  “Thank. You.” Lizzie twists her shoulders around, facing me again. “So, what do you say? It doesn’t have to be a date.”

  “What are we going to do then?” My stomach sinks, telling me this is a terrible idea, but damn. Saying no to Lizzie is hard.

  “Hmm.” Her eyes flick to the ceiling. “Kace and Cliff are both out of town on a construction job. They’ll be gone for a month. But . . .”

  “Poker night at Jensen’s house?” Cora asks.

  Jensen is a local guy who hosts poker nights at his place once a month. It’s kind of a staple thing to attend if you’re in our circle of friends, even if you don’t play the game.

  “Now that’s a good idea.” Lizzie bites down on her lip, a twinkle in her gaze. “Perfect, actually. They’ll be getting back in time, and you two can hang out and get to know one another with no pressure.”

  I cringe. “I mean—”

  “Here.” Lizzie whips out her phone faster than I can blink. “This is what he looks like.”

  My shoulders shake with a laugh. “Damn, you’re selling hard.” Stretching my neck across the table, I squint. Not bad. A little too thin, of course, but he’s not ugly. Wavy blond hair. Stormy blue eyes, dark lashes. Yeah. Not bad at all. And while I’m not looking for a relationship, I sure am tired of staring at my computer and then going to bed with it. A smile creeps over my mouth. “Eh, okay.”

  “Really?” Lizzie bounces in her chair. When I nod, she springs more. “Yes! Yes. I’ll tell him about poker night and to bring Cliff.”

  I nod, but a tightness creeps into my throat. Crap. Why did I say yes? But now I don’t feel like I can retract that. Finishing my tea, I try to focus on how happy Lizzie is and use that to find some sort of silver lining.

  Lizzie is sweet, so she’d never set me up with a jerk.

  It will be fine. I take a deep breath and repeat it. All I have to do is get past the hard part. Finding something to talk about and not being totally awkward. Thank God I have a month. It will be fine.

  Chapter 12

  “So you don’t play poker?” Cliff asks, extending his hand to help me out of the car.

  Climbing out, I shake my head and promptly drop his hand. “I never learned.” My steps slow and we dance around each other while coming up the sidewalk.

  A month has come and gone since Brett first left, and it’s been paradise. Not having to avoid gatherings to dodge his blistering stares. No worries he’ll cage me against a wall and make my hormones go batshit crazy with attraction and anger. Zero occurrence of him sidling up to my friends under false pretenses to keep tabs on me. None of that. I’ve been able to live in a normal way and do the things I enjoy. It’s been amazing.

  Tonight, though, is less than stellar. Especially as I teeter on my tiptoes once more to avoid crashing into Cliff. The entrance to Jensen’s house is way too narrow for two people. Unless you’re Lizzie and Kace. Those two love birds are snuggled up, arm in arm, a few yards ahead of us, giving sweet giggles to each other. A smile spans over my face as I watch. They seriously seem like a match made in heaven.

  Kace’s brother on the other hand? It’s been awkward as hell. I was right—Lizzie didn’t set me up with a jerk, she hooked me up with a bland piece of unbuttered toast. He’s dry, boring, and leaves me cringing every time we try to talk. Our whole night has been chock full of awkward shuffles, apologies, strained bouts of silence after we try to start sentences at the same time, and abundant throat clearings. I should have stayed home.

  “If you can’t play, then why do you come?” Cliff’s voice derails my thoughts.

  Looking up, I see the only pleasant sight of my evening. Dark lashes, gray-blue eyes, and tawny skin. And I have almost a full-on view since Cliff isn’t much taller than me. With my heels on, his nose is a shave higher than mine.

  Finally I shrug, answering his question. “Sometimes it’s nice to get out and spend time with others, even if it’s not your thing.”

  He frowns and shakes his head. “I don’t think that at all. Standing around is going to be weird.” We reach the door, and he hurries to it, opening it for me.

  I let a sigh out. “Not as weird as you.” The phrase mutters out under my breath.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you.”

  “Uh.” A stiff smile hits my lips. “I said I could use a beer or two.”

  He frowns again. “I don’t drink.”

  Of course not. So far we haven’t lined up on anything we’ve discussed. I don’t drink either, but retracting that statement will make me look stupid and add to our strained time.

  Opening the door wider, he gestures for me to go in. “Kace does, but I’m always telling him to quit. It’s bad for the mind.” Staunch disappointment laces through his voice. Honestly, even to a non-drinker like me, it’s a total buzz kill.

  Suppressing a groan of anxiety, I slide past his narrow frame, entering the house.

  The noise of the small crowd instantly washes over me, and turning around, I pipe my voice up to make sure Cliff hears me. “That’s very, uh . . .” I struggle to find a word that won’t come out like a putdown. “Gallant of you.” Damn it. That sounds horrible.

  The way his face screws up informs me that my attempts have failed hard core. “I’m not gallant. I’m just a man.”

  Oh, boy. More like a stick in the mud. I stop a deadened stare. When my gaze flicks to Lizzie and her guy, I’m feeling less jovial than I was a second ago. Never again. This is why I don’t even bother with dates. Screw relationships.

  I plaster on a fake smile as Lizzie and Kace slide my way.

  “Want to grab some food?” Lizzie grabs Kace’s arm and sways it back and forth. “Jensen always has bomb finger foods.”

  All Cliff does is frown. Again. I swear that’s all the dude does. This time it looms over us, and I see a rounding in Lizzie’s eyes. She’s probably worried she said something wrong. I try to break up the doom and gloom feel by injecting enthusiasm into my voice.

  “She would know.” I bob my head, looking at Cliff. “She is a personal chef.”

  “So I’ve heard.” Cliff being tortured probably couldn’t sound more depressing, and I question if he has a personal vendetta against food or anything fun. But hey, at least he takes the lead and shoves off in that direction. Too bad he kills it with his droopy self along the way. “I guess we’ll eat.”

  Falling behind, I allow my eyes to roll. I’ve been wanting to do it all night, but I’ve stifled it till now.

  I’m forming the end of our squad when Lizzie stalls so I can catch up. “Has he been like that all night?” There’s regret swirling in her gaze, and I don’t know what it is but seeing her sad or w
orried always makes me check myself.

  I shake my head, allowing a lie to coat my tongue. “He was nice at dinner.” Nicer. I think.

  Her shoulders loosen in relief and the apples to her cheeks round. “Thank goodness. I was afraid I set you up with a dud.”

  “No. He’s great.” The words leave a bitter taste in my mouth, but I’ll be damned if I hurt her feelings.

  We pass through the kitchen and our heads bound up to the voice of Cora. “Well, look at you, hotties.” She ditches her plate and swims through the crowd. An easy thing for her thanks to those long legs.

  “Gosh, I’m glad you’re here.” I bump shoulders with her and flash an honest-to-God smile. She’s the best thing I’ve seen all night. “I didn’t think you were going to come.”

  “Ha. Sorry.” Her laugh climbs in volume over all the other voices. “You can’t keep me away, and actually, I just got here.”

  “Us too.” Lizzie joins our huddle. “Should we grab a plate and go to the den? Sounds like that’s where most of the people are.”

  “Heck ya.” Cora reaches for her loaded dish. “Let’s chow and find out who all’s crammed in this place.”

  Lizzie and I rejoin with Kace and Cliff, with Cora tagging behind. After brief introductions, and a dull “how do you do” from my date to Cora, we pile on some snacks.

  It doesn’t take long for Lizzie and Kace to fall behind. They’re flirting heavily by feeding each other and exchanging giggles. We leave them, our trio meandering toward the den, allowing them to catch up.

  The bustle climaxes as we near the area. Loud shouts ring off the walls of the very obvious bachelor pad. Professional photographs of various European cars cover so much square footage it could classify for wallpaper. There’s no ‘woman’s touch’ in this vicinity, but there’s a grunge to the atmosphere. It’s the perfect setting for animated poker nights and keeps every gathering buzzing with animation. Tonight is no exception. Heavy chatter can be heard and it’s obvious someone is raking in the winnings, has been for a long time. We make our approach to the archway and—

  “Shit.” My heart and stomach swap places.

  “Oh, no way.” Cora sounds as shocked as I feel. “What’s he doing here?”

  “I don’t know.” I barely hear myself. I double blink, thinking he’ll vanish. He doesn’t.

  Brett sits at the middle of the table, a nice pile of chips at his hand.

  I swear he feels me. His head lifts and a carnal vibration zings across the room when he spots me. It grows when he doesn’t scowl. His eyes peel up my body, making me feel naked in a room full of people—bare even though I’m wearing a bulky, soft sweater and snug camo jeans. When his dark gaze lands on mine, I’m locking my knees for support.

  Somehow, through the bustle of the crowd and the haze of my head, I hear Cora’s voice from behind. “Who the hell is that?”

  My gaze slides to the right and damn. My visuals are assaulted.

  Sitting next to Brett is a fantasy of a man. Whoever created him decided to curse the rest of us with ugliness. Dark sun-kissed skin, ink-black hair that’s combed back and piled high, a wide jaw, chiseled cheeks, and fern-green eyes. He doesn’t even look human.

  Pretty sure they’re together too as this guy leans toward Brett, enclosing on his space to say something to him. By all appearances, it looks like a familiar exchange. Especially as Brett leans toward him.

  “Fuck.” Cora’s loud voice catches in my ears. “Which one do I look at?”

  “Good question.” I mutter, a little breathless. My vision bounces between both. The longer I stare at the newcomer, the more I like him.

  He could be a bad boy, but he’s too composed with the way he sits. He fills out the chair like it’s a throne, and even though his deep voice is barely loud enough to reach my ears over the crowd, everyone looks at him—waiting patiently while he takes his time playing his hand.

  Not a bad boy. Just sheer authority.

  He’s quiet control, our CEO. If Brett makes us his bitches, this man is the one releasing the order to make it happen.

  ”Shit. Look at his chest.” Cora’s breath hits my neck. “Hot bod squad much?”

  She’s right. He’s just as ripped as Brett. The workings of pure muscle ripple through his tailored black blazer and white silk dress shirt.

  “Make me stop watching, Bee. I think my panties are going to catch on fire.”

  A laugh nearly slips out, but it’s cut off.

  “Oh.” A sound of dismay hits my ears. It’s Lizzie.

  She’s joined us and in noticing her, my instinct is to put my hand out and smooth it down her shoulder. “Lizzie, what’s wrong?”

  The natural pink that usually lives in her cheeks isn’t there. She’s pale, and a tremor radiates through her petite body. Her cornflower blue eyes are wide, wider than I’ve ever seen, and they glue to our newest arrival.

  When I look back to the guy—Whoa. Those crystalline greens are pinpointed on Lizzie.

  His gaze is not like Brett’s—a scorching, hot tidal wave. This one is tender, like his heart melts just by looking at her. Like he’s already lost in her without touching her . . . like he’d guard her with his own life.

  It’s powerful enough to send my heart drumming in my throat, and it’s not even intended for me.

  Lizzie must sense it too because she flinches, backing up, crashing into her date. “Come on, Kace, we’re leaving. I have a headache all of a sudden.” Her voice is tight.

  “Lizzie.” I grab around her elbow just as she turns around. “Do you know him? What’s going on?” We’ve been friends for ten years. I’ve never seen this from her before. Panic. It’s strange to me.

  She gently pulls away, shaking her head. “I’m fine. He doesn’t know me.” I can see the lie. It’s tight in her wild spinning eyes, but I’m not going to push it.

  I let her go. “If you need anything, call.”

  “Thanks.” There’s a tight nod, and then she’s gone, pulling Kace behind her almost faster than he can keep up.

  “Oh, great. They ditched us.” Cliff of course is less than thrilled, but I can’t focus on that. Besides, I don’t know what he’s bitching about—he’s in his own car.

  Spinning around to face Cora, my brows furrow.

  “What do you think that was about?” Cora’s expression matches mine while her line of sight darts to the mystery guy.

  “That’s why I’m looking at you. You don’t know?” When she shakes her head, my mouth drops open. “But you two have been friends since middle school.”

  “We sure have, but I don’t know him, or what that was about.” Her eyes narrow. “Something’s up though.”

  “For sure.” I chew on my cheek, biting down harder as worry grinds in my gut.

  “Don’t worry.” Cora winks. “We’ll get it straight.”

  My lips set in a grim line and I nod.

  “Well, since Kace left, guess I’ll deal in.” Cliff’s voice catches my ear, forcing the situation with Lizzie away. For a moment, I forgot he was here. He breezes past me and snags an open seat at the animated table.

  His odd comment and behavior makes a deep line crease on my forehead. “Really?” He won’t drink, but he’ll play poker. Weirdo.

  But he really does play. For a long damn time.

  Standing behind Cliff, my night with him takes a positive turn. When he plays a good run, he looks back at me and grins wide. After a while, my hand is propped on his shoulder and he’s showing me what he’s about to play, and I’m sorry I didn’t see this side sooner.

  Then there’s Brett.

  It’s too bad I’m seeing him at all. He shouldn’t be here. The last month has been amazing because he wasn’t here. I fold my arms, allowing disgust to settle in my chest while I observe the game.

  The house deals the cards. Brett extends his hand, mutters something to our newcomer, and laughs. The sound is low. I hate it. Then he looks at me. The smile doesn’t leave. It stays in place, growing wider�
��softer.

  I scowl, narrowing my eyes and shaking my head.

  Deep browns come into play, there’s a glow, followed by a gentle crease forming around his eyes. Then he winks.

  My stomach flips in distaste. Gross. I twist on my heel and walk away. Looks like I’ll be sticking around Cora thanks to that.

  I find her in the living room and stay there.

  Cora and I don’t have a further chance to talk about Lizzie. There are too many folks around, so we circle the room together, talking to all the people we know. Time passes. Swallowing, a dryness scratches at my throat—I’m more dehydrated than my neglected house plants. I go to the kitchen to grab a cold bottled water. They’re all gone, but I know there’s usually some in the fridge in the garage. Those are always free game. I head off in that direction.

  The door is latching shut behind me, and the silence is beautiful. No noise or unexpected loud laughs. No—

  “Missed me so much you had to come find me?”

  Well, it was for a moment. Brett somehow magically appears from behind the open fridge door. I should leave, but again, running away is too easy, simple, dull. Ignoring the mixture of strange excitement and irritation swirling in me, I venture further into the garage. “Jensen ran out of water.”

  “I noticed.” A smirk curls up one side of his mouth and his gaze trails up my body till it hits my eyes. He peers inside the fridge, breaking our stare. “Who’s the Gumby?”

  My head jerks back. “Gumby?”

  “Yeah. Your guy? Green shirt, big lips, skinny, gross. He reminds me of Gumby. Who is he?”

  “His name is Cliff.” I fold my arms across my chest, my body temperature rising with a flash of anger. “And I like him.” Tonight, the lie feels good coming off my tongue.

  “Do you?” His short question has a way of stabbing at my fib, almost like he’s calling bullshit. “So that’s your type?” He gazes at me past his shoulder, slyness dancing in his dark expression.

  “Yes.” I force the answer out, averting my line of sight to the gray floor. Too much of that look and Brett will tear my lie wide open. My throat tightens with the swallow I take. “I like short guys.” Damn, it’s painful to say that, but I press on. “If they’re too tall and strong . . .”