“Maybe you didn’t really know me before.”
“Should you be drinking, though? With your medical conditions?”
The smile freezes on my face. I have to bite back a nasty retort and formulate one that won’t immediately ruin my chances of winning the bet. “You’re so sweet to worry about me,” I say softly. “It’s all right for me to drink a little. But you’ll have to help me finish this beer. You can do that for me, can’t you, Eddie?”
He swallows hard. “Well, sure.”
He’s a lightweight, of course, and it doesn’t take him long to start feeling the effects. By then, Narinna and Melanie are dancing together, Lazar is dancing with Thomas, and a few others have paired off as well. I can’t help smiling about the first two couples. Maybe this group isn’t as heteronormative as I thought. And Edgar’s not saying anything to discourage them, which is a point in his favor.
Heathcliff and Isabella have been talking in low voices, but as a slow acoustic country song comes on, he lifts her to her feet and pulls her close. She leans against him as they dance, and I start wishing I had a different supernatural power—maybe the ability to make another woman’s head explode with a single thought. Could be messy, though.
“Let’s dance.” I toss the empty can into one of the baskets we brought and grab Edgar’s hands, yanking him up.
He wobbles and laughs. “Careful, Cathy.”
I press my body against his. “We should hold each other up so we don’t fall down.”
“Good idea.” His arms close around me. I glance sidelong at Heathcliff to make sure he notices. He’s watching me over the top of Isabella’s head.
We sway like that, eyeing each other while we dance with ourrespective partners. I let my hand slide to Edgar’s ass, but he pulls it back up to his waist.
“Whoa there.” He chuckles. “I think this is getting out of hand. We should probably call it a night and head back. Except we’ve all been drinking, so…who’s gonna drive the van?”
“Ugh, thevan,” I murmur, tracing his lips with my finger. “You act like we’re a bunch of teens, Eddie, making us ride out here together in avan. We’re not kids.”
“Yeah, I know.” His brow furrows. “I just…miss it. The way things were before I went off to college. We used to have such good times.”
I don’t mention the fact that I was rarely included in those good times. I had to say no so often, they just quit asking me.
“Did you have fun at college?” I say.
“Well, I had some great teachers—”
“No, no. I mean…fun.” I wiggle my eyebrows at him.
He laughs. “Oh. Um…maybe.”
“With girls or guys?”
Alarm flares in his eyes, and his face turns brick red. “Why are you asking me that?”
“It’s just a question. I don’t care either way. It’s all good.” I cup his neck, stroking my fingers through the ends of his blond hair.
But Edgar is angry now, and frantic. “This isn’t right. None of this is right.” He glances around at the others.
Great, I’m definitely losing the bet now. Reluctantly I meet Heathcliff’s gaze, and he smirks. Then he cups Isabella’s chin, tips her face up, and kisses her. A deep, slow, sensual kiss, with a lot of tongue, while both his big hands squeeze Isabella’s ass.
And he’s still looking at me.
I’m burning as hotly as if I stepped into the firepit—incandescentwith fury, defeat, craving, and a jealousy I can’t deny any longer. I have to do something. Stop this…killhim…
But Edgar moves before I can. He shoves me away so roughly, I stumble back and sit down hard on the sand. Then he lunges around the firepit toward Heathcliff, roaring, “Get away from my sister!”
Three things flash through my brain.
One, Edgar Linton is an angry drunk. Like Dad.
Two, Heathcliff has broken the kiss with Isabella and he’s staring at me, concern and anger churning in his dark gaze as I pick myself up off the sand.
