The only difference is that the others lick salt off their hands and grab a slice of lime. I just down the harsh liquor and immediately pour myself a second shot and throw it down the hatch.
No one says anything except the newcomer. “That bad, huh?” Bex asks softly.
“You don’t know the first thing about it.” I snort, pouring myself another shot, and offering her more by tilting the bottle in the direction of her empty glass.
“What the hell,” she sighs. “Hit me up.”
We clink our glasses and this time, she follows my lead, forgoing the salt and lime.
“Shit.” She shivers. “It burns going down.”
At this point, I’m no longer in the mood for a hookup tonight; and my teammate’s sister is the last girl in town I should do it with, even if I was. She’s cute, though.
No, scratch that. She’s hot.
Her long, blonde hair looks so soft that I’m itching to touch it. She has vibrant green eyes, a sexy pair of tits, and a pair of legs I can’t help but imagine wrapped around my hips as I pound into her.
So much for not going there with my teammate’s sister. Thank fuck Luke can’t hear my thoughts.
“Want another one?” I offer, because why the fuck not? If I get wasted enough, my dick won’t rise to the occasion and I won’t be tempted to break every bro code in existence by trying to bone my roommate’s sister.
I usually hate it when people answer a question with another question. “What are we trying to drown in that bottle of tequila? Or shall I ask whom?”
Two can play this game, and I answer with another question of my own. “Am I that obvious?”
Bex shrugs. “Heartbreak recognizes heartbreak.”
I take a better look at her, and it dawns on me. “Fuck. Is that a wedding dress?”
She laughs.
The sound goes straight to my cock for some reason.
“It was before Lukeupdated the designfor me. Believe me, I usually don’t dress this way. And what kind of psychotic bitch would wear a tiara on a normal Friday night out?”
Something in her tone tells me there’s some real pain under the casual hilarity.
“So you were at your wedding and… what? You left?”
Her smile fades away. “I didn’t leave. More like, I sneaked out of the church, got into a taxi, and ran for my life.”
I can’t wrap my head around it. Are all women flighty, volatile creatures, not worthy of an ounce of trust? Keene would definitely answer yes to that question, but my first impression of Bex was a good one. “You just left someone at the altar?”
Bex’s expression hardens. “I did what I had to do for my own safety. It wasn’t like we loved each other, anyway. It’s a long story, but trust me, I didn’t break his heart or anything. He just?—”
She pulls at the neck of her dress, as if the lace was too tight to breathe. It’s an instinctive gesture, but I think I spot something.
A purple bruise on the creamy skin of her neck.
I’ve just met this woman, but I can’t unsee what I just saw.
“Bex, are you?—”
“What the fuck, dude?” Jamie chooses that moment to return alone from wherever he had taken the two girls he was flirting with earlier. “I can’t leave for twenty minutes and you’re about to get fucking married on me?”
He’s just ribbing me, of course. But like everywhere he goes, Jamie turns every woman’s head. Bex is no exception.
Luke’s sister is staring at Jamie Hart as if she had been stranded in the desert and he was a tall drink of ice cold water.
