The bartender slides four shot glasses across the bar, and I hand over my credit card. Riley hands me two and raises hers.
“To the best night ever!”
The tequila burns going down. I’m still grimacing when Riley orders another round.
“Riley—”
“Don’t you dare.” She points at me, mock-stern. “You’re not driving. We’re in Vegas. And I haven’t been this happy in months.” Her voice softens. “Maybe years. You’re making me forget I have a broken heart on Valentine’s Day. Let go and have fun! You can’t say no to me!”
No. No, I cannot.
Somewhere around shot four, she grabs my hand and drags me onto the tiny dance floor. The jukebox is playing some ‘90s songI vaguely recognize, and Riley is already moving, hips swaying, arms in the air.
“I don’t dance,” I tell her.
“So help me, Duke. Tonight you do.”
She pulls at my arms until I give in, letting her position my hands on her waist. She’s warm through the thin fabric of her dress, the curve of her hip fitting perfectly against my palm. My pulse kicks up. She drapes her arms over my shoulders and sways into me, close enough that I can smell her coconut shampoo over the bar’s haze of beer and cigarettes.
“See? Not so bad.”
I grunt. It’s all I can manage with her this close. With her body moving against mine, every rational thought I’ve ever had disappears like smoke.
We’re barely moving—more of a shuffle than a dance—but I don’t care. Her body is pressed against mine, her head tipped back, her eyes bright with tequila and joy. The song changes to something slower. Riley moves closer, her cheek resting against my chest, her fingers playing with the hair at the nape of my neck.
“Duke?”
“Yeah?”
“You’re the only good man I know.”
My heart pounds. Her words are soft, almost lost in the noise of the bar. But I hear them, and something in my chest both tightens and expands. What would it be like to pull her closer? Kiss her like I was lucky to be with a woman like her? I shake myhead, wondering where this desire is coming from. Am I drunk? It’s been a while since I got laid, but I’ve never felt like this with Riley before. She’s always been my best friend, my constant.
“That’s not true,” I manage.
“It is.” She looks up at me, and her eyes are serious beneath the tequila haze. “Jeremy made me feel like loving things was stupid. Like I was never enough.” She shakes her head. “But you remembered I love Bella. You. Remembered! And you made it happen, and you—” Her voice breaks. “You make me feel like the things I love matter. LikeImatter.”
My throat tightens. “You matter,” I say. “More than you know.”
The smile she gives me is devastating. Then she raises her shot glass and says, “To us.”
Her eyes are bright, and I know she doesn’t mean it the way I want her to. She meansus—two ride-or-die best friends and partners in crime who’ve had each other’s backs since high school.
“To us,” I echo, and drink.
For the first time in months, I stop thinking about deployment. The only thought running through my mind is:When did Riley get so fucking sexy?
CHAPTER 4
RILEY
My head is literally trying to kill me. I carefully try to open my eyes, already feeling the sunshine through the hotel window.
There’s a relentless throbbing behind my eyes that makes me want to burrow under the covers and never emerge. My mouth tastes like fuzzy tequila, and when I finally open my eyes, the bright sunlight streaming through the windows feels like a personal insult.
I close my eyes and turn away from the window, trying to piece together the night. The concert—Bella’s voice soaring through the venue, Duke’s shoulder warm against mine. Getting to meet Bella! The bars after. His laugh in my ear as we stumbled down the Strip, my heels dangling from his fingers because my feet had given out. The last thing I remember is drinking tequila at a dive bar and slow dancing with Duke.
After that, nothing.
