“Careful there,” he murmurs. “Someone had a little too much to drink.”
I flop into my seat, swaying slightly and glance up. “You need to be more careful,” I whisper. “You can’t keep looking at me like that.” I wave a lazy finger. “My best friend—no, my sissy-in-law—she’s gonna notice you flirting with me.”
His voice dips. “I’ll try. But you don’t make it easy.”
My cheeks flush. “How come you’re still sober?” I poke his chest lightly. “Too cool to drink with the rest of us?”
He shakes his head. “Not my thing.”
I lean in and catch the faint smell of peppermint on his breath. Instantly, my mind spins and I wonder what he tastes like. What his minty tongue would feel like pressed against mine. “You must think I’m a mess,” I spit out.
“Trust me… that’s not what I think of you.” His voice softens. “Not even close.”
I tilt my head, words slurring. “You’re always so… good. Always smiling. Never mad. Never eating donuts. And you clearly work out, what? Five—no, ten times a day?”
I blatantly eye him up and down. I know I’m drunk, but I can control my words at work. With Shantel. With my uptight mother-in-law. Literally everyone else. But with him?
Im-fucking-possible. Is that a word?
“What’s your deal?” I squint. “Are you secretly… an undercover FBI agent?” God, please don’t tell me he has handcuffs and a uniform. Fuck, now that image will be stuck in my head all night.
“Bet you’d like that.” He lets out a soft laugh, but there’s something hesitant in his eyes. “I used to drink. Not anymore.”
“Anymore?” I repeat.
“Made my fair share of mistakes.” He pauses. “But some things are better left in the past.”
I move in closer. “You’re being all sexy and mysterious,” I say, my elbow slipping off the table. “But you know what I learned? Mysterious is like…como se dice… a vault locked for no reason. Just blow it up and tell me. What kind of mistakes?”
He stiffens, then grins. “Now you speak Spanish? It’s not important tonight. Go enjoy the party.”
I shake my head, intrigued, the alcohol in charge. “Come on, Mr. D. Big D. Dill pickle. Don’t hold out on me.”
“Trust me,” he says, as his smile fades. “There’s nothing to talk about. Nothing good about my past with alcohol.”
I wave at Izzy, trying to flag her down for another drink. But she’s too wrapped up in Luis, her laughter echoing through the bar.
Dylan’s hand reaches for mine, his touch steady but gentle. “Jenna, maybe slow down a little?” His voice isn’t pushy, just a little protective. And I like it.
“Oh, so now you wanna boss me around?” I say, gazing down at his big hands. Not now. Head out of the gutter, Jenna.
His fingers brush against mine so subtly and softly. I have no idea if it’s intentional. But it sends a rush of heat between my legs and all the damn way up. “No,” he murmurs. “But I’m your friend. And I care.”
“Friends?” I laugh, too loudly, and the motion makes my drink slosh over my shirt. I welcome the icy cold needed right now. “I don’t wanna kiss my friends!”
Dylan grins, slow and lethal. “Damn it. Didn’t I warn you to stop making liquid drip down your body?”
“Well, actually,” I ramble, the words tangling. “I kissed Izzy once—no, she kissed me. And then I kissed her back. And… I forgot your bib.” My forehead scrunches as I try to make sense ofmy own sentence. “I don’t like girls, unfortunately. I don’t make sense.”
“Makes perfect sense.” His gaze darkens. “You wish you were into women, so you wouldn’t want me so bad.”
A man in a business suit walks by, and instantly my stomach churns, and I think of Jacob. His face flashes through my drunken, dirty mind, and I go quiet.
“Hey, you okay? Don’t you hate crowded places?” Dylan asks, the teasing fading into something softer. “Want to get some air? Walk off all that tequila.”
I nod and lower my glass as we head back to the bar. “I think I am done for the night,” I mutter, as it suddenly feels like the walls are closing in.
Izzy gives Luis a look, then Dylan, then back to me, exhaling extra dramatically. “You sure? It’s so early. Only one more drink? Live a little.”
