Lory’s hands drifted down the cue before readjusting to a firmer grip. Like she was holding a staff.
Lory’s lips moved as she stared Jake in the eye. Whatever she said, he didn’t like, and a sneer formed on his face. His expression quickly changed when she expertly ‘passed the baton’, lodging it in his groin. Levering forward, his eyes bugged out as he white-knuckled the cue.
Being mid-gulp through another mouthful, Anton barely prevented his nose from becoming a beer sprinkler. Swiping the back of his hand under his chin, he blinked. “Oh, shit. She ninja’d his ass.”
Sweet Jesus, that’s hot.
Twirling away from the table, Lory skipped to the jukebox by the restrooms. Her finger ran down the glass window and she tapped once before pausing. Head popping up, her eyes roamed the room, finally landing on Antonio. A sly grin tugged at her lips as she beckoned him with a crook of her finger.
Oh, damn. He ignored the way his body tightened. He was an expert at pretending she didn’t rev his engine. With a shake of his head, he brought his glass to his lips once again.
I ain’t chasin’ you, honey.
Her smile grew wider. Both hands mimicked pulling on a rope as she sidled up to his table. “Don’t ya know, you should come when a woman calls?”
He wasn’t touching that comment. Caging a groan, he pulled out his wallet and handed her a fiver. “Is that what you want?”
Lory sighed with a satisfied smile. Plucking the note from his fingers, she blew him a kiss before sashaying back to choose her song. He watched her ass the whole way. As good as Anton was at resisting the urge to stare, sometimes he let himself surrender. He was pretty goddamn sick of denying his desire for her.
Lory chose her song then began to sway.
How. The. Fuck. Had his brother walked away? Dumbass.
Being on the receiving end of her flirtations was a first for Anton. Sure, she’d teased him before. Like a big sister teased a little brother. But this siren song was something she’d reserved solely for his older sibling.
As far as he knew.
That little mind detour had him holding in a mouthful of beer, his gaze searching every pair of eyes that tracked her movements. And there were several. Could he blame her if she’d fooled around when her supposed fiancé hadn’t given her anywhere near the attention she deserved? He took another sip, the fizzy brew sliding down his throat before he pushed away the still half-full glass. He’d swallowed enough bitter-tasting truths for a lifetime.
Before long, she danced her way over to him, tugging on his hand. He tensed again. She was pulling him towards the edge of a ravine, and she had no idea.
Eyes glassy, breath smelling of tequila, she leaned down to whisper, “Dance with me.”
He coughed up a laugh. She may as well have said, ‘Fall with me. Die a sweet death for me.’
In her attempt to cover her pain, she’d brought his to the surface. And she appeared to be clueless to his unrequited love.
He resisted the pull. “How much did you drink before I walked in?”
“Three shots. Why?”
“Has it gone to your head?”
“Relax. It’s one dance.”
Another humorless laugh caught in his throat.
No, sweetheart. It’s so much more.
Having her in his arms would be like a key in a rusty lock to Pandora’s box.
Memory Reel
Lorelei
It took some effort to open her eyelids a mere slit. She shut them as soon as she’d achieved the feat. Beautiful as they were, the dawn’s first rays weren’t so kind to her alcohol-infused retinas. Had she left the curtains open? Her usual enjoyment of the cardinals’ and robins’ bird song was marred by a god-awful hammering inside her cranium. How much had she drunk last night? Why could she feel a breeze?
Jostled by movement beneath her, she expelled a hiss of pain as her eyes sprang open. Lory shielded her face with her hands, peeking at her surroundings through the cracks between her fingers. Wide open Mississippi sky. This wasn’t her bedroom, that was for sure. Rolling to the side, she gently pushed herself upright. A couple of blankets provided cushioning in the tray of a pickup, while another covered her legs. Poking out the bottom, a pair of boots, presumably attached to a pair of feet, announced that she had company.
Shit. Her stomach twisted. Shit, shit, shit.
Digging through her pickled brain, she tried to piece together the night before. Whose truck was this?
Layered over the outfit she’d worn last night, a red flannel shirt wrapped her in comfort and warmth. It kinda looked familiar. Why was she wearing a man’s clothes? What the hell had she done? Consternation heated her face as her heartbeat picked up the pace. Tugging the collar to her nose, Lory drew in its beer and smoke scent. She inched her head around, to identify the garment’s owner.
Oh, thank God. Antonio.
Wait… Her eyes flared as she bit her lip.
Jesus! Antonio? Really?
She ended up with her ex-fiancé’s brother? Good lord, she needed to go before he woke up. What have we done?
He rested one hand across his stomach while the other rested above his head, near the butt of his shotgun. His bare chest rose and fell in a gentle rhythm. The crease between his brows hinted at troubled dreams. Apart from his dark stubble, he was clean-cut. Not as wild as his brother,
