Then they were standing in front of us and I didn’t have time to hide . . . or think up an excuse to give to Pepper when he revealed that we already knew each other.
Logan and Shaw shook hands first. “Good to see you, man,” Logan greeted him.
“Last time I saw you I think you were about this high.” Shaw held his hand up to his shoulder.
“Yeah, thankfully that growth spurt kicked in.”
Reece made the introductions. “This is my girlfriend, Pepper, and her friend Emerson.”
He shook Pepper’s hand but his eyes were on me. Honestly, they’d been sliding to me even while he talked to Logan.
I held out my hand, prepared to let the cat out of the bag and admit that we knew each other, but I froze at his words.
“Nice to meet you, Emerson.” His warm hand enveloped mine and I felt the spark shoot straight up my arm to my chest. Every finger burned an imprint on my skin that I’m sure I would feel hours from now.
“You, too,” I managed to get out from my suddenly constricted throat.
“Glad you came tonight,” Reece said. “I heard you were back in town, but didn’t know how to get in touch with you. I haven’t seen your mom around—”
He slid his gaze to Reece. “She remarried. Moved to Boston.” And then he looked back at me, his gaze deep, probing. I pretended great interest in my drink.
Reece nodded. An awkward pause fell on our little group.
“He seems like a nice guy,” Shaw volunteered, mostly, it seemed, to fill the gap. “Works a steady job at least and cares about her. Better than my old man ever did.” He smiled but it looked a little pained on his face. I had the distinct impression that this whole encounter was painful for him.
“Well, that’s great. Your mom was so nice. She made the best cookies. I’ll always remember she had them waiting for us after soccer practice.”
Shaw shook his head with a low chuckle. Just the sound of it made my skin shiver. Which was kind of lame. Since when did a guy’s laughter do that to me? “She just got those from the bakery at the grocery store.” His eyes held mine as he uttered this. “The day-old cookies were always free for employees.” It was like he was trying to convey something, trying to make a point. What? That he was different? That we were from two different worlds? I already got that point. I got it the first time I laid eyes on him, and it had nothing to do with the fact that his mom worked at a grocery store and my mom wore Chanel.
Pepper looked between us curiously. Apparently our stare-down wasn’t going unnoticed.
“I’m going to get a fresh drink,” I announced, shaking my nearly empty cup. I wasn’t in the mood to drink tonight. I still felt the effects of last night a little too much, but it was an excuse to depart from the group.
I pushed through the crowd and stopped at the bar, signaling to the bartender. Unsuccessfully, it seemed. He was under siege from happy partygoers.
“I’ll get him,” a voice beside me volunteered.
I turned to face a cute guy. He wasn’t quite as preppy as a Dartford boy, but close. With his carefully groomed hair and sweet dimples, he was definitely safer than the guy I’d just left . . . the guy I was spending way too much time thinking about.
Determined to shake off my funk, I smiled coyly. Pepper called it my man-eater smile. Well. Boy-eater. Boys, I handled. Men, less so. But this boy was right up my alley, so I gave him all my attention and let him signal the bartender like I was too helpless to do it myself.
Encouraged, he grinned at me again, leaning close enough for our shoulders to brush. “What do you want?”
“Hm.” I glanced along the bar. Not too many choices. Beer. Wine. A margarita machine churned behind the bar, too. “A margarita.”
The frazzled-looking bartender appeared and Pretty Boy ordered our drinks. I took a moment to look around the room. Reece and Pepper were still talking to Shaw. As though he felt my stare, Shaw looked over at me. I jerked my gaze away just as Pretty Boy accepted the drinks from the bartender.
“Cheers.” He toasted his beer against my frothy cup. “I’m Jonathon.”
I finished my sip and answered, “Emerson.”
“So, Emerson. Are you friends with the bride or groom?”
“I’m a friend of a friend of the bride,” I said.
“Ah. So you’re kind of crashing the party then?” He winked at me. “A bad girl, huh?” His gaze skimmed over me appreciatively, his eyes lingering on my hair, assessing the magenta strips layered in with the dark strands. What? Did colored hair mark me as a bad girl or something? I stopped myself from rolling my eyes. It was such a stereotype.
“Do I look bad?” I teased back, trying to get into the spirit of flirtatious banter. It was my forte. Something I could turn on and off as easily as flipping a switch. It shouldn’t feel like pulling teeth.
It shouldn’t.
I peered over Jonathon’s shoulder. I couldn’t help it. Shaw was here. A guy I never thought to see again, but he was here. Even from across the room, I was hyperconscious of his presence. Normal, I suppose. I spent the night with him and we didn’t so much as kiss. I was . . . curious. That’s all. The crowd shifted and I lost sight of him.
“You looking for someone?”
I shook my head. “No,” I lied and tried to fight the memory of waking in his bed. Of clean cotton sheets and the crackle of a fireplace. I lifted up on my tiptoes, peeking through the press of people.
Pepper was laughing at something Reece said. Shaw was wearing that already familiar half smile. A body bumped me and I sank back down on my heels to keep my balance. The house was even more crowded than when we’d first arrived. With people pressed tight as sardines, it felt as suffocating as the busiest club. If this was just the engagement party, I couldn’t imagine what the wedding reception would be like. I hoped the venue was bigger.
Jonathon set a hand on the bar and leaned in, snapping my attention back to him. His mouth brushed my cheek as he answered, “Oh, yeah. Well. You look like a bad girl.” His fingers reached up and toyed with a short strand of my hair. “I bet you get really freaky.”
“Me?” I tsked. “Not really. I’m actually pretty boring.”
“No way. You’re too sexy for boring.”
Speaking of boring. Jonathon didn’t get any points for originality.