“Tragic.” With that, Billie turns her attention to the barkeep, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
Thoughts that inevitably turn to those magical dreams about Eddie. I didn’t tell her everything. She doesn’t need every sordid detail of him on top of me, filling me, coaxing me to the edge again and again. The way his mouth knows every inch of my body and how to make me ache. The way he held me in place, only to drive me out of my mind with need.
There’s no point in telling Billie any of that. No point in saying it out loud.
Because it was a dream, and judging by the way he hesitated—those dots appearing, disappearing—when he found out how fucking old I am…that’s exactly where it’s going to stay.
Chapter 7
Never Stop
Kiki
Forty-five minutes later, those radioactive drinks have done their job, and I’m feeling loose. Not sloppy drunk, but lighter.
Honestly, that alone feels like a minor miracle.
Plus, there’s no one staring or whispering about me. I’m just another passerby having a drink and a few laughs. There’s freedom in that.
So when Billie drags me to the makeshift dance floor, I don’t hesitate.
For the first time in months, the old Kiki resurfaces as I spin and shake. Hey, I was known around Sparkwood as a hell of a dancer, and even though I’m a bit rusty with my moves, I’ve got a handle on them by the end of the first song.
Billie, my effervescent dance partner, eggs me on, shouting encouragement as I grind my hips and fall into the beat.
We laugh, sing along to the song, and have an amazing time.
For a split second, I forget that my life is total shit ninety-nine percent of the time.
Okay, that’s not entirely true. When I’m with Eddie and Theo, life is amazing. But I need to come clean.
I have a crush on Eddie Landry. Not just any crush, either. A ridiculous, borderline embarrassing, high-school-level crush on a man who is clearly too young for me.
A man whose text response solidifies that knowledge.
Which should be enough to shut this whole thing down, except I’m not ready to release those hot as fuck dreams of Eddie’s naked body against mine.
Sue me, it’s my birthday.
Billie and I take a break and drop onto our waiting barstools, laughing and flushed from dancing.
The bartender brings us some water and a fresh round. “Good man,” I murmur, taking a sip of water as I dab my brow.
And then someone catches my eye from the far end of the bar, and everything slows around me, my stomach flip-flopping.
Eddie.
He leans against the bar, beer in hand, gorgeous as always. His shoulders fill out his shirt, his arms strong in that way that has nothing to do with a gym and everything to do with physical work. Blue-collar muscles, which is the most ridiculously attractive thing about this man. That, and I’ve seen his hands in action on the job site—large, steady, strong. No doubt my dreams would pale in comparison.
But it’s the expression he’s wearing that catches me off guard, an odd mix of heat and intensity that’s making me quiver all the way across the room.
“Holy fuck,” Billie whispers, following my line of sight. “I told you that you needed to get laid properly, and darling, I have found your man.”
I clear my throat, cutting my gaze to the bar. “That’s Eddie.”
Maybe Billie will take the news casually. Not make a scene.
So not happening.
