The guests are gathered around the tables, at the bar, or by the pool.
I bet they have no idea who they’re celebrating.
Having the sour taste of disappointment in my mouth, I reach for a tray of drinks and pick up a glass of wine.
Scowling at it, I put it down, signal to a server, and ask him to bring me a shot of hard liquor.
The effect of my first drink this evening has long worn off. I need something strong to warm my soul and make me forget.
My drink arrives quickly.
Checking the people nearby, I furtively empty my glass.
I can’t have Sylvia’s hand on me again, stopping me from drinking at my own party.
“Oh, there you are,” a masculine voice says behind me, and I almost choke on my drink.
A strong male hand moves down my shoulder.
I turn to Paxton, grinning.
Hmm.
We can still have a little fun tonight, can’t we?
“ Mmm… Hi. Sorry for bailing out on you like that. Pressing family matters have kept me away from you,” I explain, flirtatious, slightly ironically, a tad amused. “Are you having fun?” I ask, grinning from ear to ear.
Paxton is quite a charming man, probably not my type––I don’t have a type––simply because I’m smitten with someone else.
His dark blond hair, gray-blue eyes, masculine jaw, and broad shoulders could make any woman drop their panties in a flash.
If I’m being honest and eager to peer beyond the wall of dread I have surrounded myself with, several good-looking men have caught my eye this evening.
I didn’t say they were moral men. Good men. Men you could entrust your life and heart with.
I meant good-looking men.
Men whose looks have been forged in the danger threaded through their lives, the recklessness with which they live, and their ability to hurt and pleasure someone else.
But none of them can make me forget him.
“I have fun now,” he says, flashing a teasing smirk, while bringing his drink to his lips.
I watch him swallow his hard liquor, my eyes fixed on his lips.
“Are we having the same drink?” I murmur, grinning.
“It seems so.”
He laughs.
“We both needed something strong,” I say as our eyes connect.
He’s flirting. I’m flirting. The alcohol eases us into a carefree world.
“Would you like to dance?” he asks with a naughty look on his face.
His gaze dips to my cleavage and then lingers on my lips. If we weren’t surrounded by people, we’d be kissing just about now, I think.
