“He’s more your type anyway,” I say, laughing as I hand it over. “Go for it.”
Khloe grins. “Cute, flirty, and totally fuckable? Say less,” she says as she adds the number to her phone. I roll my eyes at her just as Tessa and Marlena’s names are called.
“FYI, Rae?” Tessa says as she stands up from the table. I glance at her, my brows furrowing in curiosity. “You’re terribleat hiding your feelings, babe. Stop pretending you don’t likehim,” she says as she follows Marlena to the DJ booth.
“Okay.” I mutter softly. Tessa knew me better than anyone. She knows what I am feeling, even before I do.
I watch as the two of them each receive a microphone, then step up onto the stage, their arms linked together as they bob their heads to the opening notes of “Monsters” by Ruelle.
As they start to sing, I take a long sip from my drink and stand. “I’ll be right back,” I murmur to Khloe, who pays me no attention, before slipping away from the table to head to the bathroom.
The bathroom itself is surprisingly clean for a dive bar. Flyers for old and upcoming themed karaoke nights, punk shows, and drink specials are taped over every inch of space on the walls and stalls. One of the lights above the mirror flickers with the persistence of a dying firefly, and the stall doors creak like they belong in a haunted house.
I step up to the sink and take a long look at myself. My cheeks are still flushed, and my eyes are a bit glassy from the alcohol consumption. My braid has almost completely unraveled, my hair now in soft waves that spill down my back. I adjust the flower clip that’s somehow still hanging in there and run my fingers through the strands to fluff them out.
Tessa’s words are still echoing in my mind. I’m notdenyinganything. I have already admitted to myself that I am attracted to Emilio. Hell, I masturbated to thoughts of him because of that attraction. But it was nothing more than that. The man is insufferable, and yes, kind of hot in a way that makes my brain do stupid things. He might have apologized for his behavior during our first meeting and been kind, but that doesn’t mean I like him in the way Tessa thinks. I didn’t really know the fucker. If anything, I just want to fuck him and satiate my body’s needs.
I sigh and splash cold water on my face, hoping to cool both my flushed skin and my thoughts. I don’t need to go down that rabbit hole again. One night of letting loose doesn’t mean I’m suddenly catching feelings.
After a few minutes of drying myself off and situating myself again, I exit the bathroom, smoothing my hands over my dress. Thoughts of Emilio were still present in my mind but were now manageable.
I step out of the hallway. Tessa and Marlena had finished their song, replaced now by some guy royally butchering a song by Korn that my intoxicated brain can not remember the name of—drunk karaoke at its finest.
I do a sweep of the bar. The number of patrons has dwindled, leaving the bar top almost entirely open. Cole spots me from the hall as I look around and gives me a short wave, which I return before leaving the hallway.
And then I see him.
Emilio Perez.
He’s sitting at a table a few feet from the bar, a bottle of Dos Equis resting loosely in one hand, posture straight and alert like he’s halfway between off-duty and still on the clock. He’s wearing dark jeans and a black fitted tee that clings to his well-defined abs just right. His badge and handcuffs are clipped to his belt—subtle but visible enough for anyone paying attention, and his off-duty weapon sticks out just slightly from the back of his jeans. His expression is unreadable as he listens to who Ithinkis Kline, though I barely register that part.
Because all I can really focus on is the way something deep inside me shifts—like someone lit a spark and set it loose in my veins.
I wasn’t expecting to see him here.
My steps falter, and I hover just outside the bathroom hallway like I’ve forgotten where I was headed. The combinationof my thoughts just minutes ago and the alcohol has my heart already racing, my palms suddenly a little damp. The alcohol makes it easier to blame the warmth blooming in my chest, but I know it’s more than that. It’s physically seeing him that makes something stir low in my stomach.
And then he looks up, and his eyes find mine.
TWELVE
EMILIO
As soon asour eyes meet, the noise of the bar dulls into nothing. I forget what Kline was just saying—hell, I forget where I am for a second—because Raelynn Carson is standing across the room, staring straight at me like the world narrowed down to just the two of us.
Of all the damn bars in this city, I had to walk intothisone.
She’s standing just outside the hallway near the bathrooms, frozen for a beat like she’s debating whether to turn around or come over. Her expression shifts somewhere between surprise and caution, and then—finally—she starts walking toward me.
With every step, more of her comes into focus.
That halter dress she’s wearing accentuates every curve, the neckline dipping just enough at the front to tease the swell of her chest. Her hair’s a mess of soft beach waves, a flower clip pinned near her temple. There’s a flush to her cheeks that tells me she’s been drinking—enough to feel good but not enough to be sloppy. And God, she lookshappy. Relaxed. Lighter than I’ve ever seen her.
I shift slightly in my seat, trying to act like I haven’t been staring. Kline lifts his beer to his lips and glances at me sidelong, clearly catching the sudden change in my posture.
But it’s not until I catch the bartender watching her—that slow, hungry once-over, like he’s mentally undressing her—that something sharp twists in my chest.
Jealousy.
