“So what’ve you been doing, Sam? I haven’t seen you around the last couple of weeks.”
“Yeah, I’ve been a little busy. A lot of events.” I feel like fidgeting, but I manage to keep my cool.
“So, business is good then?”
“Yes, it is. And you?”
“You know, summer is my time so I’ve been loving it.”
“That’s great,” I say.
“You look really awesome tonight.” He smiles. His sun-bleached hair and hazel eyes make a perfect match for his megawatt grin. He certainly is gorgeous. But the trust factor weighs heavily on my mind. I still have that image of him twisted up in that other woman’s arms, practically swallowing her tongue. The thought almost makes me gag.
“Thanks,” I say, forcing the image out of my head.
I look up to see him staring at me. His eyes zero in on my mouth, like they always do, and it’s a little unsettling, so I divert his attention by asking him, “Did you come alone?”
“No, do you know my new roommate, Robert?”
“Don’t think so.”
“Oh, well, he’s here somewhere in this crowd.”
Our conversation is a bit stilted, but it could be that it’s so jammed in here.
“Hey, can I take you out to dinner Friday?”
He hasn’t hidden the fact he wants to get back together, but I haven’t hidden the fact that I don’t trust him.
“Um, I don’t know, Trevor.”
“Come on, Sam. It’s been almost a year and it’s just dinner. You have to eat, right? And people change.”
He nudges my shoulder with his own. The teasing tone of his voice and his playful smile has my resolve crumbling. Not to mention I’m such a pushover. Damn it!
“Yeah, I guess. But before I can say it’s a for sure thing, I need to check my work calendar at home because sometimes Friday evenings are booked with events. And don’t take this any other way than just a meal between friends, okay?”
“Yes, just a meal.” He seems sincere.
“Can I text you tomorrow?” I ask.
“Most definitely.”
Oddly, as I watch him, a picture of a messy-haired gray-eyed god standing next to a display of honeydews pops into my head. Where the hell did that come from? I give my head a firm shake.
“Sam?” Trevor is clicking his fingers in front of my face. “You with me here?”
“Oh, sorry. I had a momentary brain lapse. It was a really crazy week and I was in the sun all day. You know how that goes.”
“Sure. And alcohol isn’t helping either, no doubt. Hey, you aren’t driving tonight, are you?”
“Oh, heck no. I’m a passenger in the Mitchell’s golf cart.” I laugh.
“Huh?”
I explain this one. “I’m staying with Lauren at her parents’ house here on Sullivan’s and we brought their golf cart.”
“Oh, right. But still, be careful. They can ticket you even in that thing.”
“Yeah, I know. But Mr. Mitchell said they would come and get us if we needed a pick up.”
“Lucky you. Oh, to be spoiled by parents like that.” He grins.
I make a face and squeak, “I know. And we seriously do not take it for granted.”
“That’s good.”
“So, another round?”
“Sure, and do you mind if we hunt down my friends?”
“Not at all.” Trevor buys me another drink but not one for himself. I notice and mention it to him.
“Yeah, I’ve cut back on the stuff. After what happened when, well, you know, I decided that this,” and he holds up his bottle, “had taken the best from me and I wasn’t going to let that happen again.”
“Oh, well, that’s good.” But then I have to wonder if he’s doing it for show. Again, there’s the trust thing.
Berkeley is easy to locate. She’s standing right in front of the band, dancing and singing like a groupie. She’s throwing off all kinds of signals to the drummer that she’d be a willing partner if he’d give the go ahead. The way he keeps checking her out, I’d say he’s interested. I hope she doesn’t end up hooking up with him tonight. That could be a little awkward in the morning, trying to explain it to Lauren’s mother.
The rest of the gang are scattered. The night wears on and at one point, when I’m coming out of the bathroom, an arm snags me, pulls me around the dimly lit corner and I find myself being kissed. I’ve no doubt it’s Trevor, his lips and mouth still familiar all these months later, but why am I picturing a dark-haired sinfully sexy stranger instead?
“Mmm, that was nice.”
“Trevor, that went beyond what I consider just friends.”
“I’m sorry. I’ve been dying to do that forever.”
I blow out a frustrated breath.
“I take it I’ve just blown my hopes of any chance with you,” he says.
“To be honest, I don’t know what to think. Every time I look at you, an image of you and that girl pops into my head.”
“Can’t you let that go? I have. That was only a drunk moment. It was nothing.”
“But that’s just it. It was something. To me. And I worry it’ll happen again.”
He picks up my hands. “It won’t. I’ll never do anything to risk losing you again.”