She stands, pointing toward him. “That’s Eddie? That absolute Greek god is Eddie? What the fuck, Kiki? Why are you not climbing him like a tree?”
God, shoot me now.
I smack her hand down. “Will you be quiet?”
Granted, the bar is noisy enough, so it’s unlikely he’s heard her… yet. But if I know my cousin, she won’t rest until he’s heard every word.
“No wonder you’re dreaming about him.” She winks at me, giving me a hip check. “I’ll bet he enjoyed the show. What red-blooded man doesn’t want to see women shaking their tits and asses on the dance floor.”
My overly exuberant dancing, which only moments ago felt sexy and free, now feels embarrassing as all get out.
How much did he see, anyway? Shit. No, it’s fine. I’m hardly the first woman to get buzzed and cut loose.
So not making me feelanybetter.
Billie keeps her gaze locked on Eddie. “You need to take advantage of that.”
“I will do no such thing.”
“Really? Well if you don’t, I will.”
I’m not a jealous woman, but I swear I’m ready to toss my cousin’s drink on her. Who the hell does she think she is?
Oh, wait, a single woman wanting to pursue a single man who I’ve sworn off a minimum of fifteen times tonight, even providing a laundry list of reasons why we couldneverwork.
Plus, Billie is a far better fit for Eddie. She’s only thirty-five. She doesn’t come with baggage. And she doesn’t have a town full of people side-eyeing her every time she walks into a room.
Why shouldn’t she go after him?
Because I’ll claw her eyes out. That’s why.
I lift my drink, meeting her amused gaze with a bitter glare. “Go ahead. He’s not into me, anyway.”
“Liar.” Billie chuckles and looks past me. “You must be Eddie.”
I am not prepared. Not even a little.
With a fortifying breath and sip of my neon pink drink, I spin to face him.
Fuck, he’s so gorgeous.
Mouth, please don’t utter those words aloud, or I’m sewing you shut.
“Hi.” Eddie nods toward my cousin before turning his attention to me.
He holds out a bouquet, a mix of yellows and pinks, wrapped in paper. It’s simple. Perfect.
“You didn’t have to do this,” I murmur, tracing the petals.
“They’re like the flowers from the painting in your kitchen. Figured it was an easy win.” He leans in, his lips dusting my ear as he presses a kiss to my cheek. “Happy birthday, beautiful.”
Damn but those three words turn my whole being inside out, right before my brain crashes my high.
He’s just being nice.He knows you’re forty.You are too old for him.
The thoughts crash into each other so fast I can barely keep up.
Yes, we’re friends, but friends can call each other beautiful. It doesn’t mean anything, right?
