Her hands rest on her hips over the black designer dress. “Are you staying with us tonight? I just put a new smart TV in the guest room, and we know how much you like your classic movies.”
I grimace. “That’s a giant hell no. The last thing you need around on the night of your engagement is Willow, the giant contraceptive. I’m crashing at Lauren’s.”
Lauren is Hudson’s and Mr. Wrong’s sister.
She groans. “Fine, I’ll settle for that because you showed up. That’s a big deal, and you did it for me.”
I crack a smile. “I also came for the cake.” That comment results in her pushing my shoulder.
Her face turns serious. “Have you seen him?”
The mention of him gives me a nasty taste in my mouth. “Who?” She crosses her arms at my response, and I scoff, my heart racing, “Oh, you mean the bed evacuator? Nope.”
That’s a lie. He was on my radar as soon as I walked in—for precautionary reasons, of course. I saw his back first, the one I assaulted so much, I ruined my manicure, and worry snaked through me. I cowardly fled the scene when he spun around and saw me.
“Hopefully, he’s ducking underneath tables, so we don’t have to face each other,” I say.
She smirks. “We both know Dallas is not a man who ducks underneath tables.”
“Looks like I’d better start then.”
“Don’t you think it’d be a good idea if you talked? Cleared the air?”
“I need to talk to him like I need anal bleaching. Both of them would be a pain in the ass and are never happening.”
She laughs, snagging a bubbly glass of champagne from a waiter walking by, and thrusts it toward me. “Here’s some liquid courage. Just don’t drink too much that you land in his bed again.”
I swat the drink away. “Not happening, and no, thank you.”
She stills and studies me. “Since when do you turn down champagne? Alcohol is always mandatory in these situations.”
“I’m trying out a new diet.”
“You might want to wipe the icing off the side of your mouth if you want to keep up with that lie.”
I scrub away the remnants of my sugar binge and lick my finger. Thou shall not waste buttercream frosting. “It’s this new craze diet where sugar is the main source of nutrition and alcohol is bad. Very bad. It’s called the good decision-making diet.” I start fake picking lint from my dress, so she doesn’t see the untruth in my eyes. The black dress is ugly and shapeless, and I bought it specifically for tonight to hide my body and secrets.
“So, you’re not drinking because he’s here?”
Shit. That would’ve been a more believable excuse than a damn diet. I nod, feeling bad for lying to her, but I can’t break the news here. It’d ruin her night.
“Does that mean, the chances of letting him rip off your panties for round two is likely?” She sets the glass down on the table behind her and bounces in her heels, like me banging Dallas again would cure world hunger.
“Calm down, matchmaker. Studies show that alcohol gives you shifty eyes.” I point to my hair. “Shifty eyes don’t look good on redheads.”
“Bullshit. You can’t deny you had a connection. Neither one of you is the casual banging type. Talk. Maybe there’s a spark that’ll lead to a firework.”
More like a wildfire breakout.
“The only connection we have is that he stuck his penis inside me once. That’s it. Nothing more. Now, it’s time to move on.”
She pushes my shoulder when I go back to my fake lint-picking. “Okay, what the hell is going on with you?”
“Nothing,” I blurt out, shifting my neck from side to side like I’m sore. “Jet lag is a bitch.”
“Liar.”
I wave off her accusation. “It’s your engagement party. Tonight is all about you.”
“If that’s the case, then I want answers.”
I chew on the edge of my lip while her dark eyes study me. I get the opportunity to look away when music starts to blare through the room. I glance at the DJ booth and then to the makeshift dance floor in front of it and almost gag at his first song choice.
Boyz II Men? Really, dude?
Looks like we’re getting served cheese with these cupcakes.
The sight of Hudson hurrying over to us relieves me. He wraps his arms around Stella from behind and squeezes her hips, his mouth going straight to her ear.
“Dance with me,” he attempts to whisper, although I’m sure everyone in the state heard him.
Stella melts at his touch, like it’s the first time they’ve ever had physical contact, and my heart hurts. This is what real love is. This is something I’ll never have. She groans, and I know my best friend well enough to know she’s going to turn him down to continue our conversation.
“Go dance with your fiancé,” I insist. “We’ll talk later.”
A smile accompanies her next groan. “Fine, but you’re not leaving this town until you spill the tea.”
“I wouldn’t imagine it any other way.”
Hudson kisses her cheek, snags her hand in his, and sweeps her toward the dance floor. The crowd cheers, and people jump up from their seats to join them.
I release a deep breath, happy I dodged that conversation, and decide to reward myself with another cupcake. I grab a chocolate one with strawberry icing and huddle myself into a corner at the farthest end of the room. Shame sinks through me when I do another once-over of the party to search for the man who screwed me in more ways than one.
One more glance. That’s it.
One more view of the man who gave me the best night of my life and the worst morning.
My throat tightens when I spot him sitting at a crowded table in the middle of the room with the entire Barnes family. His daughter, Maven, has his full attention as she grins wildly and dramatically throws her hands up in the air while telling him a story. His head tilts back in laughter, causing my knees to weaken. That’s the smile I longed for that morning.
God, he looks sexy.
More delicious than these cupcakes.
Too bad he isn’t as sweet.
Dallas Barnes is tall, dark, and handsome but also scarred, rough, and broken down by burdens. He’s the man of your dreams who has been through hell and hasn’t risen above it yet.
Tingles sweep up my neck as flashes of our night together come crashing through me harder than this sugar rush. I drink him in like the glass of champagne I can’t have while he runs his strong hand over the stubble of his dominant jaw. The same hand that ignited nerves in my body I never knew existed. His hair, the same color as the whiskey we threw back, is freshly cut on the sides and grown out on top.
I rub at the sudden ache in my neck while begging my mind to forget, to stop feeling something every time I see him. Hell, every time I think about him. It’s always hate laced with desire.
We were two lonely and heartbroken souls who connected over a night of drinking our pains away. When the alcohol proved not to be potent enough to heal, we tried to fuck it away.
Fucking and feelings do not go together like macaroni and cheese.
I used him. He used me. I thought I was okay with that until reality smacked me in the face when he kissed me for the first time. That was the moment I turned greedy and wanted more than just a quick fuck. The problem is, he didn’t.
As if he senses me watching him, his deep-set charcoal eyes move in my direction, and my back stiffens. I hold in a breath when he scoots out his chair, gives Maven a quick peck on the top of her head, and walks toward me.
Oh, shit.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
The first few buttons are undone on his chambray shirt, exposing the top of his broad chest, and the sleeves are tight around his muscular arms. He’s not fit from spending seven days a week at the gym. No, he’s naturally buff, and the manual labor he does now only amplifies it.
Was driving me crazy his goal tonight? No doubt Hudson told him I’d be here.
I move my gaze fr
om one side of the room to the other, desperately searching for the nearest exit, as he gets closer. I’m his chosen target. I bite my lip at the realization that I’ll have to walk past him to leave. The determination on his face assures me that I’m not going anywhere until he gets what he wants.
I shove the remainder of the cupcake in my mouth and silently give myself a pep talk to make it through this conversation without plowing my heel into his balls. I stupidly run my hands over my dress after swallowing down the last bite and then cringe at the pink frosting smear.
Real smooth.
So much for appearing cool and collected.
This hot-mess look won’t make him regret kicking you out of his bed.
I tense when he reaches me, and he shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans, staring at me with affliction. The thread around his shirt buttons stretches when he leans back on his heels and waits for my response.
“Willow.” He releases my name like an announcement, and the familiar scent of him drifts up my nostrils, a mix of regret and whiskey with small notes of cedar.
It’s comforting at first since I’ve always felt a sense of security when he is around, but then I remember what he did.
I settle my hand against the wall to keep me from falling on my ass. “Dallas,” I reply with a sneer. “Fancy seeing you here.”
“It’s my brother’s engagement.”
My mouth slams shut, and my gaze drops to the floor at my stupidity. “Oh, yeah … right.”
Silence passes.
I don’t look at him when I lift my head back up. Instead, I avert my attention to the people dancing, laughing, and having a good time in the room, wishing it were me.
Hell, three months ago, that would’ve been me. I cast a glance to his mom and dad. Do they know what we did? That he screwed my brains out one night?
He clears his throat to gain my attention again. I give in and focus on his broad-jawed face. He’s staring at me in gentleness, almost pity, which surprises me.
“How long are you in town for?” he asks.
“Two days.” My initial plan was to fly in and out within the same day, but Hudson begged me to stay longer for Stella.
“Get breakfast with me in the morning.”
His question startles me. The breakfast offer is a little too late. That should’ve happened on our morning after.
“I’m not much of a breakfast person.”
He scratches his cheek. “Grab coffee?”
“I don’t drink coffee.” This is the truth. Never been a coffee fan. Never will be.
“What the hell do you do in the morning then?”
“Sleep.” Get sick. Roll around in my sheets, wishing I could turn back time.
He pulls his free hand from his pocket and slides closer into my space.
Way too close.
His steadfast eyes meet mine. “Please. I want to make shit right. My brother is marrying your best friend. I’m the best man. You’ll no doubt be the maid of honor. We need to be civil and stop dancing around each other if we don’t want everyone to know something happened between us.”
There’s the answer I was looking for. I wince, unsure if he’s more worried about our tension ruining the wedding or that people will find out about our one-night stand.
I wave my hand through the air, careful not to hit him in the face. “Consider that night forgotten. I already have.”
“Don’t bullshit me. We’ve known each other long enough for you to be honest with me.”
I hold up my hand in anger, the need to spew out something terrible snapping at me. I want to strike him with pain that consumes him like he did me. “In case you’ve forgotten, you kicked me out of your bed. What do you want from me? A friendly hug? A casual conversation with fake smiles? Not going to happen, so quit wasting both of our time. You stay out of my way. I’ll stay out of yours. Agreed?”
“I didn’t kick you out of my bed,” he hisses. “You ran out my front door faster than a speeding bullet.”
I forget we’re not alone and edge closer until my chest hits his. “You jumped out of bed like you were dodging a speeding bullet.” I grit my teeth to gain control of myself. “That was before you said that what we did was a mistake, over and over again, like your lips were a broken record.”
His face burns like I didn’t just hit him with the verbal truth, but also a physical one. He lets out a hard sigh, giving me a small sampling of the whiskey and frosting lingering on his lips. Tightness forms in my throat, and I clutch at my stomach. Just like his cologne preference, I’m sure the taste of him hasn’t changed.
“I’m sorry. I overreacted,” he replies. “I tried calling to apologize, but you wouldn’t take my calls.”
“Nor will I ever.”
“Fuck, Willow, how many times do I have to say this until you forgive me? I was in a dark place and was out of line.” His voice lowers even more, and I barely make out his next words. “I didn’t regret that it was you in my bed. I was pissed at myself for even letting it happen, for putting you in that situation.”
His answer doesn’t make me feel any better.
I slide against the wall to move away from him. “It’s done. I’m over it.”
“Twenty minutes and a pastry,” he pleads. “Give me that, and I promise I’ll never bring it up again.”
I take a deep breath. This is Dallas Barnes. A man I worked alongside for five years. A man whose job was to protect Stella and me. Tragedy changes a man. Loss changes a man. This isn’t the Dallas I knew. This is a new man, a man who lost himself when he lost his wife.
I sink my teeth into the inside of my cheek. “I’m sorry, but I can’t. I’ll be civil for Stella’s sake, but I won’t spend a minute longer with you than I have to.” This is for the best. I want him to hate me. I want him to want nothing to do with me in case he ever finds out what I’m keeping from him.
The anger in my words shocks him, and he runs his hand over his face.
“Daddy!”
He stumbles back at the sound of his daughter’s voice. She’s barreling our way, and her brown pigtails soar through the air. She runs right into his leg with a humph and giggles when he catches her.
“Come dance with me!”
Affection fills his face when he peeks down at her with a smile and twirls a pigtail around his finger. “Give me a second, sweetie. I’m talking with Willow, and then I’m all yours.”
“But this is my favorite song ever.” She pouts.
I force a laugh, seeing my perfect escape plan. Dancing seems to be my savior tonight. “You can’t deny a dance with a girl that adorable,” I say, shooing them away. “Go. I need to make a call anyway.”
Maven jumps up and down, clapping her hands in excitement, and Dallas stares at me with concern before leaning forward.
“I never had any intention to hurt you,” he whispers.
But you did, I mouth back.
Damn, did he.
“Daddy!” Maven whines. “The song is going to be over!”
He gives me a nod before walking away.
I don’t let the tears fall until I see his back.
The fuck?
I’m not this overly sensitive chick.
These hormones are messing with my hard-ass persona.
I brush them away, sniffling, and dash toward the exit. I need to get out of here and away from these people. I need silence, a moment to sulk about how I made a stupid decision for the millionth time.
I’m almost out the door when I nearly trip on my feet. My arm is grabbed, and I’m pulled down a dimly lit hallway. I attempt to swat the connection away, but it doesn’t work, and I’m not released until we land in a small utility room.
“What in the flying fuck is going on with you?” Stella demands, crossing her arms. “And don’t you dare try to feed me some new diet bullshit. Diets don’t make you cry.”
“Nothing,” I stutter out, wiping my warm cheeks in an attempt to rid myself of the evidence.
; “Bullshit.” She pauses, waiting for me to let out my secret, but I stand my ground. “I’ll keep us in here all night.” She narrows her smoky eyes my way. “Do you want to be blamed for keeping a girl away from her engagement party?”
Guilt trips. Stella excels at giving them.
“I’ll tell you later. I promise.”
She shrugs, pops a squat on the carpeted floor, and stretches out her legs.
I let out a dramatic breath. “Fine. But you have to promise, it won’t leave this room.”
“All of your secrets are safe with me. Always have been.”
“This is bigger than hacking into Brett’s phone or when I pissed myself after we drank too many Skinnygirl margaritas.”
“You could’ve killed Brett, and I wouldn’t blab.”
“Promise me.”
“Jesus, Willow, did you kill the bastard?”
My heart thunders in my chest. I’m on the verge of passing out, so I sit down across from her. I can’t take these words back. The secret won’t be mine any longer, and she’ll be thrown into a difficult position.
“Someone you care about will get hurt if I tell you.”
Her voice fills with worry as she hunches forward. “Is it about Hudson?” She relaxes when I shake my head. “Then, what is it?”
“I’m pregnant.” The words feel heavy when they fall from my lips for the first time.
She silently stares at me, stunned at my response, and then her face brightens with fake excitement. “That’s great! Congratulations.” She’s won an Emmy, but even she can’t fake enthusiasm about this. “I didn’t know you were back with Brett.”
Brett. My asshole of an ex who’s out on bail and awaiting trial after driving drunk and hitting a family of four.
“We’re not. I haven’t seen him since we broke up.”
“Then, who’s the father?”
I wait for her to come up with the answer, so I don’t have to give it to her.
Her mouth drops open, a gasp escaping her. “Holy shit. Dallas is the father?”
“Yep, and I don’t know what to do.”
Just a Fling Page 23