Page 81

Kristen

I stumbled off the stage, laughing hysterically. Josh caught me at the bottom of the steps as I collided with his chest. I felt the rumble of his laughter through his T-shirt.

He wore the shirt I’d stolen from him the day we met. The brewery one. It looked so good on him. His broad back, his tapered waist, the fabric tight over his contoured chest. I took a deep breath and tried to capture the scent I’d smelled that day when I wore it, that masculine cedar that was Josh. Once I had it, I held my breath, not wanting to let it go.

I’d had a smidge too much to drink.

We’d taken a shot before we went on, and I had already been two beers in. We’d just rapped “No Diggity” together, and I’d cracked up through half of it. Josh was pretty good. He did dance moves and everything.

I slipped my arms around his waist, hooking my fingers behind his back, and he held me to him, smiling down at me.

I put my chin to his chest. “I’m only hugging you because those cougars over there have their eye on you,” I lied. “It’s my duty as your friend to protect you from impending cougar attacks.”

He chuckled. “Thanks for clearing that up. I was afraid for a second there you were hugging me for real.”

I would do everything with you. For real.

“I have a confession,” I said, gazing up at him. “I don’t really think you’re a bad driver.”

He gave me an amused smile.

“What?” I bit my lip.

“I’m just thinking about something Shawn said the other day. That drunks and leggings always tell the truth.”

I snorted. “I am not drunk. I’m just talking in cursive. And Shawn is an idiot. Have you ever had the urge to tell someone to shut the fuck up when they aren’t even talking? That’s how I feel literally every time I see his face.” I narrowed my eyes. “Although, there is some truth to that legging thing…”

He laughed, the smile creasing his eyes at the corners.

I pushed my lip out into a pout. “Josh? I need hot wings.”

He released me. “Yes, ma’am.”

We walked back to our red booth to a poorly sung Lola Simone song, and he placed an order.

I took a long drink of my beer. “Why do guys always sit facing the door?” I asked, licking my lips.

He smiled at me. “Do we?” He looked over my shoulder at the entrance. “Huh. I guess we do. Maybe it’s some protective instinct. So I can keep an eye out for danger. Keep my sword arm free to protect you.” His dimples flashed.

God.

Tyler was handsome in a chiseled sort of way. Like a model in a black-and-white cologne commercial. But Josh. Oh God—Josh. He melted me. He was a teddy bear. A warm, gorgeous, delicious piece of everything.

I wished I could let him in. Let him be my boyfriend if he wanted to. He’d said the morning after we’d first hooked up that we could be exclusive. He would. He wanted to.

He would lock the house up before bed and kiss me good night. He’d throw his shirts on my chair and I wouldn’t even complain about it. Stuntman could sleep with us because he likes Josh. And when he went to work, I could text him and tell him I miss him, and he would say it back, and if I got mouthy, he’d just laugh at me and handle me like he always did. He just let my moods roll off him, like nothing about me scared him, and it made me feel like I could be myself around him. Like the only time I really was myself was when I was around him.

Maybe I should marry Tyler.

I mean, why should everyone be miserable, right? If I married Tyler, he would be happy, Mom would be happy. Josh would move on to fertile pastures and have a million babies. And I’d be with someone that I cared about who could maybe distract me from the broken heart I was going to carry for the rest of my life.

Tyler and I got along. It wouldn’t be bad. It wouldn’t be me and Josh, but there wasn’t going to be a me and Josh, so didn’t I have to consider my alternatives? And Tyler knew I was in love with Josh. He knew what he was asking when he proposed.

My best friend would never talk to me again, and my dog would probably run away. With Josh.

I wondered if Tyler would eat hot wings and drink beer with me.

Probably not.