Page 2 of Firefly Embers

I’d never been a particularly heavy drinker, not even in my early twenties. I’d have a beer or two out with my brother and our friends at the local dive bar, but getting obliterated and not remembering what or who I’d done held very little appeal.

Especially when my days consisted of being up at the ass crack of dawn doing manual labor.

But after “the incident,” as I like to call it, I refused to take anything stronger than some ibuprofen. I didn’t like the way the pills made me feel—floaty and uncontrolled. Alcohol temporarily numbed the pain, physically and mentally, without the side effect of ‌a dependency on narcotics.

Although I am certain that I was simply replacing one dependence with another, I added that to the increasingly long list of things that I had lost the ability to give a fuck about.

A loud laugh broke me from my self-deprecating spiral; the joyous sound was hearty and unrefined. There was no denying whose laugh that was. I’d been hearing it since I was thirteen years old.

Rayna Cortez.

Ray was the one thing that could brighten even the darkest of my days. She had been my best friend since we were kids. Ever since she had gotten lost in the woods between our houses and had adamantly declared us best friends, we were attached at the hip.

Her presence was as warm and bright as the sun itself, which is how I’d come up with her nickname. Every time she walked into a room, all eyes were on her. For some reason, whenever she was around, I felt like I could breathe again.

Champagne in hand, she giggled at the bartender’s words, her dainty fingers playfully toying with the glass as I watched her flirt shamelessly. His eyes trailed over the soft curves of her breasts as he blatantly looked her over, making zero effort to hide his interest.

There was absolutely no denying that Rayna Cortez was a knockout. Men were always left speechless around her, their jaws dropping in awe as she unknowingly commanded their attention.

Standing at five foot four, she compensated for her lack of height with a healthy dose of sass. She had curves, but not in a way that made her disproportionate. She filled out a pair of Wranglers better than any woman I’d ever seen, and I’d seen a lot of women in Wranglers around the rodeo circuit.

The dress she wore tonight was like a second skin, as if it were painted directly onto her luscious body. It hugged every single one of her curves, dipping in at her slender waist and flaring out over those beautiful, God-given hips. She had pulled her dark brown hair into an elegant updo, highlighting the slender slope of her neck.

Fuck, she was stunning.

As if she could feel the heat of my stare on her skin, she turned her hazel eyes in my direction, her mouth pulling up on one side in her signature devilish grin she reserved just for me.

Her knowing smile was undoubtedly a challenge. She was watching to see if her conversation with another man would push me over the edge and make me want to show her how much I wanted her.

The two of us had been playing with fire for years. Ray and I were both exceedingly attracted to each other, but we knew that being together was a direct risk to our friendship. So, instead of taking the risk, neither of us dared to discuss the true extent of our affection.

If we did, there would be no turning back.

I watched with rapt attention as she tapped her manicured hand on the top of the bar and mouthed a “thank you” to the bartender before heading in my direction.

Anticipating Ray’s inevitable meddling, I finished off the rest of my bourbon, hoping the liquid courage would do its job.

I watched as her strides ate up the distance between us, the undeniable tug of lust thrumming through my veins.

“Dance with me?” she asked, holding out one of her hands in offering.

There wasn’t much I’d say no to when it came to Rayna Cortez. She had me wrapped around her little finger and a vice grip on my balls.

“Do I ever say no to you?” I questioned, my voice husky from lack of use.

I had barely uttered a word since I had walked down the aisle at the church with my brother, watching him marry the woman who was the reason I currently hated my life.

As I put my hand in hers and moved my chair back to stand, Ray gave me that same trademark smirk.

Even though I had a significant height advantage, she remained unfazed as I towered over her. She could easily take my six-foot-three frame and make me feel two feet tall with the flick of her wrist.

Had I mentioned that I was an absolute goner for this woman?

She led me out onto the makeshift dance floor, where couples were swaying to a crooning country song. Never one to hesitate, she grabbed my other hand and placed it right where her hip dipped in and pulled me close. I rolled my eyes at her not-so-subtle insistence.

She smelled intoxicating, a heady mix of vanilla and cinnamon that had me wishing I could pull her closer and trail my nose down her neck.

“What’s up with you tonight?” she questioned bluntly, her tone snippy and straightforward, not one to beat around the bush.