Page 8 of Cross the Line
Thankfully, I’m a coward, so I stay rooted to the spot, and my focus stays trained on her.
She’s wearing a dress that sweeps the floor and is held up by straps so thin I could rip them off with the slightest tug. It drapes a little in the centre, emphasizing the soft slope of her chest, and while she’s not the most endowed in that department, it didn’t stop my hands from liking what they felt when I had the privilege of touching her. I examine the rippling blue silk, following it down to the soft curve of her hips, envisioning what it would be like to bunch it up to her waist like I did the last time we—
Shit. Fuckingshit.I can’t think of her like that right now. Correction, I can’t think of her like thatever. I know better. We all know better, because we saw what happened the last time one of Oakley’s friends got involved with Willow. And it wasn’t pretty.
I’ve almost convinced myself to turn away when, suddenly, her face lights up. A smile blooms across it, giving me the same adrenaline rush that climbing into my car before a race does. But instead of spurring me to move, it keeps me frozen as I take in the full force of her joy.
She has dimples in both cheeks, deep ones that reveal themselves when she’s smiling or laughing – or tryingnotto smile or laugh. They pop when she folds her lips in or scrunches them to the side. Even when she frowns, there’s a hint of that dip in at least one side of her face. If there’s a moment where they’re completely hidden, it means she’s sleeping or bored out of her mind.
And man, do I hate that I know that.
A rock of dread drops deep in my stomach as I catch sight of the recipient of her smile.
Oakley sweeps his sister into a hug, and finally –finally– I drag my gaze away, because I know better than to repeat mistakes.
And kissing Willow Williams was the biggest mistake of my life.
‘Earth to Dev. Anybody home? Hello? Did youdie?’
When I blink and turn back, Chava’s face is inches from mine. Mark is standing beside him, having returned from his great escape and looking at me like he’s tempted to call the team doctor.
‘You good?’ Mark asks, leaning in and squinting, probably checking my pupil dilation.
I swat him away as Chava cackles. The two of them are ganging up on me as usual. It’s like they’ve forgotten who signs their paycheques.
‘I’m fine,’ I mumble as I drag a hand through my hair, but I find myself glancing around again in search of Willow.
I’m lucky she never told her brother about our little . . . incident. For weeks after it happened, I was convinced Oakley was going to show up and assassinate me himself. Considering he nearly killed Jeremy for what he did to Willow, I don’t think my fears were unjustified.
Jeremy absolutely deserved what he got, though, and his crimes were far greater than a stolen kiss in a hotel stairwell. I’m practically innocent in comparison. But the guilt still weighs heavy in my gut.
‘We were talking about trying to get him laid tonight, and then he zoned out,’ Chava explains. ‘He’s probably praying he’ll be more than a one-pump chump after this long.’
His comment cracks me, and I’m grinning before I can stop it. I can’t resist a joke at my expense. ‘Come on, I’ve got at leasttwo pumps in me.’
‘There he is,’ Chava coos, pinching my cheek. If this guy wasn’t one of my closest friends and the only reason I show up where I’m supposed to on time, I would have fired him by now. ‘Are we gonna find you a girl or what?’
‘That’s the plan,’ I reply. I can only hope it’ll help take my mind off Willow. ‘First, I need another—’
But I’m cut off when Howard once again appears by my side, this time with a glass of champagne extended to me. Based on his scowl, it’s not a peace offering.
‘What you’re going to do is take this glass and follow me,’ he instructs. ‘You’ve wasted enough time, and you’ve got a hell of a lot of ground to make up.’
Sure, I wanted another drink, but this is not how I wanted to go about getting it. ‘Can you give me like a half hour?’ I ask, holding back my exasperation. I’m sick of this guy breathing down my neck and ruining the vibe. ‘There are some people I need to say hi to first, then I promise I’ll chat up whoever you want me to.’
Howard shoves the glass against my chest with enough force that a few drops of the pale liquid spill onto my shirt. ‘Fifteen minutes,’ he concedes, and it’s enough to keep me from wanting to sock him in the jaw. ‘But I’ll be watching.’
Again, the urge to mock him is strong, because the man is a walking villain cliché. I know he’s only trying to ensure I get the best deals – and getting all he can from his cut of those deals – but he should really work on his bedside manner.
When he shuffles off again, I down the (possibly poisoned) champagne and hand the empty glass off to a passing waiter before glancing between Mark and Chava. ‘Think I could get away with sneaking out the back exit?’
Mark snorts. ‘No chance. Besides, Oakley will be pissed if you run away before he makes it over here.’
My whole body tenses, and my eyes snap to where I spotted Willow and Oakley in the crowd, but they’re gone. Instead, a familiar deep vanilla perfume surrounds me, and I know it’s too late to run.
I don’t immediately join in when the greetings start. There’s cheerful shouting and back-slapping and good-natured cursing, but I’m coming to terms with being mere steps from Willow for the first time in over half a year. Apparently, I have no idea how to behave around her any more.
C’mon, man. Just play it cool. Act normal. Easy as pie.
