I push through the crowd and stop short when I see Devon with her back to some guy, swaying with her arms up over her head. A tiny flash of skin is exposed over the waistline of her jeans and I swallow hard. Meredith is giving her the thumbs up like she approves of this creep behind her. The man puts his fingers on the little sliver of skin and I’m suddenly no longer tired. I head toward her and the guy sees me coming before Devon does. I give him a look and point between Devon and myself and he puts his hands up in surrender. Devon is still swaying with her eyes closed, so I slip into the stranger's place and put my hands on her hips. She moves her ass against me and I can’t see straight—and I can’t blame the strobing lights.
Meredith is spinning and when her eyes finally meet mine over Devon’s head, she pushes her lips together then bolts from the dance floor. Devon goes to turn and I tighten my grip, lower my head over her shoulder.
“I’m sorry I was late,” I say into the space below her ear, breathing in her scent.
She freezes in my grip. I release her and she turns slowly and looks up at me.
Her amber eyes are wide. Her dark curls wild around her face. She’s so fucking beautiful. And, man, is she pissed.
“I thought you were dead,” she yells, her eyes narrowed on my mouth. Her fists are clenched by her side and a trickle of sweat slips from her neck, down her clavicle beneath the v at thetop of her black silk top. “You couldn’t fucking call? What are you some kind of celebrity—so important that you can’t pick up the phone and let me know you’re alive?”
A woman bumps into her back and Devon lunges forward toward me, wincing a little as I steady her.
“I’m sorr?—”
“Don’t bother! It’s my stupid fault for thinking it could—for giving a shit.” She shakes her head and turns to walk away from me. I put my hand on her arm to stop her and she looks over her shoulder at me. Her eyes are glistening—and it’s not sweat. The shock of seeing the pain in her eyes stuns me silent. I let her go and watch her limp away.
What just happened here?
The answer to that question disappears into the women's restroom. And this time, though my palms are still burning where they held her hips, I know better than to follow her.
Chapter Seventeen
Devon
Lesson 18: If you call him, he will come.
Tara is sprawled out beside me, her honey-gold loose curls still perfectly intact against the silk pillowcase she brought with her. My mouth is dried shut and my eyeballs are being pushed out from the inside. I curse Tara for breaking the tequila after midnight rule. Then curse her again for looking like she’s at a goddamn wellness spa instead of the other side of a sweaty, drunken night.
Good news is I didn’t rupture anything last night—well maybe what’s left of my dignity when I lost my shit in front of Jeff. A minor meltdown, really. Nothing to write home about. I’m sure he didn’t even notice.
I flex my foot and wince. My calf feels like a knot the size of a cantaloupe has formed inside it. I swing my feet out of bed and use my toes to search for the foam roller Meredith bought me.She’d bought me a massager, too, that worked wonders on my neck until Tara informed me it was actually a vibrator.
“Did Meredith go home with butt-chin?” Tara asks my back.
“Yup.” I don’t risk nodding for fear of an immediate concussion.
“Nice, he totally looked like Spartacus…”
“I am Spartacus,” we both say in a deep voice. Mom has a thing for the Douglas men.
My foot finds the bag handle and I slide off of the bed and land on the floor with a thump. It makes my brain rattle, but I focus on digging my fingers into the unfolded clothes to find what I need. I pull it out and lay it on the floor, shifting my weight so I can attack my calf bump. I bite hard on my lip, and still a groan comes out through the side of my mouth.
“Are you alright down there?” Tara’s pretty face appears over the edge of the mattress, her eye makeup smudged just enough to look like she’s done it on purpose.
“I’m fine. Arrrrrrrrgh.” Knead the dough. Roll the dough. “Can you go mess up your face?”
She pulls her nose up. “You look like you need help. Do you want me to call Meredith to come home?”
“Nooooooo.” Shit, this hurts. Maybe I should stretch. I kick the roller to the side and reach for my toes and the pain sears through the back of my leg. I’m squinting so hard there’s a throb in my temples.
“What about Kevin?” Tara says as she rolls out of sight.
“You can’t call either of them. Meredith likes to have morning sex and Kev is out on the Schuylkill rowing merrily along.” And I don’t want to say the words that are forming in a cloud in my head, but the pain in my calf can’t just be from mixing Cab with tequila so I let out a cleansing breath that reeks of alcohol, and tell her in a strained voice, “Call Jeff.”
She looks at me, searching my face for some signal that I remember last night.
“I know. I know. But he’s an orthopedic surgeon and he’s used to my humiliation. Just call.”
