“Say hello.” Heather was practically bouncing on her barstool.
“Tell him you changed your mind,” Claire continued as though this conversation were totally normal.
Velma wasn’t going to do that. But it was probably better to just say hello and move along than to stare at each other across the bar. That’d be awkward. She trudged to the table Brek had claimed.
He fixed his eyes on the cleavage peeking out from her black V-neck T-shirt. Slowly, he raised his gaze to her face.
Her toes curled in her high heels at the way his eyes ate her up.
“What’re you doing here?” He glanced to the door and back her way.
“Girls’ night. What’reyoudoing here?”
“Drinking.” He nodded to the bar, the movement causing his hair to brush against the collar of the leather biker jacket. “Scouting the band.” He glanced again at the door and rubbed the back of his neck. “And meeting a friend.”
Oh geez. He was on a date. Velma’s heart plunked straight down to her patent leather Jessica Simpson sling-back heels. Apparently, she had a jealous bone (or ten) in her body, because the idea of Brek with another woman made her stomach hurt. Of course he was with a woman. A guy like him didn’t spend quality time alone with his hand on a Friday night.
She scraped her heart back up to her chest and flashed her most sincere you’re-my-roommate-and-everything-is-fine smile.
“We’ll go somewhere else.” His apologetic gaze landed on Velma. He began to stand, but she didn’t budge.
“No. You’re here to have a good time. So am I.” She cocked her hip and tried to look sassy. She was pretty certain she failed.
A piece of hair escaped the tight bun at the nape of her neck, but she didn’t fix it. He stared, fixated on the chunk of escaped in-desperate-need-of-highlights blonde.
Her ovaries practically sighed.
That’s when the world turned topsy-turvy. A gorgeous biker babe hit the bar wearing a tube top under her leather jacket that matched her tight pants. And by tight, the pants were painted on. She definitely was wearing a thong, because there was no panty line. Either that or she was going commando. But that couldn’t be comfortable in leather.
Still, the look worked on her. Or she worked the look. Either way. Lordy, the amount of hair spray to tease hair that big must’ve raised Denver’s emissions to hazardous levels. Sheesh.
Velma was wrong. She hadn’t plastered on makeup. Nope. This chick had the market cornered on that.
Biker girl’s painted lips ticked into a full grin as she stalked toward Brek.
He stood but he didn’t smile. Not until Tight Pants said something in his ear. Then he gave her a half grin and a side squeeze.
Velma hadn’t moved at all since Brek’s date had walked in. She should’ve moved, though. Should’ve gone back to her table. Or to Minnesota. Anywhere but there.
“Who’s this?” Biker chick gave Velma a once-over that would’ve chilled the entirety of the Breyers Ice Cream factory.
“Velma. Chelsea. Chelsea. Velma.” Brek shifted uncomfortably, but his hand still rested on Chelsea’s waist.
“Nice to meet you.” Velma infused her tone with warmth to counter Chelsea’s winter blast.
“Hey, Brek.” Claire hooked her arm through Velma’s. “You crashing girls’ night?”
Velma warmed with her sister beside her. Taking her back. Well, her side, in this case.
Chelsea kept her expression neutral. The kind Velma knew well from her high school days when the pretty, popular girl was dismissing her.
“Not tonight. Another time.” Brek glanced to Chelsea, his intentions for the evening absolutely clear.
Which was totally fine, because Velma had her friends. “We’re just going to ah…go back to our table.”
Head high, Velma looked Chelsea straight in the mascaraed eye before heading back to her barstool. She didn’t even glance back as the band began to set up on the small stage.
“I don’t think any of us saw that coming.” Heather squeezed Velma’s forearm. “It’ll be my personal goal to find you a guy tonight. Ignore Brek. Don’t look over there.”
