He caresses her face. “I only counted six.”
Through clenched teeth, she leans closer, grunting, “It was a hell of a lot more than six. Maybe I should start waking you up every time, that way you can experience some of this misery with me.”
“You can do that.”
“Ugh!” She bats his hand away. “Would you stop being you for five seconds? It’s making me want to have another kid.”
Laughing, Reese grabs her face and kisses her. Dylan seems to melt against him, letting go of her anger, maybe even her conviction on the subject. They break away from each other enough to breathe, but keep their foreheads pressed together, Reese’s hands cradling Dylan’s face and hers holding his wrists. Their eyes remain locked as if they’re sharing this silent moment, conveying unspoken words, and I take that as my cue and remember why the hell I got up in the first place.
I melt into the crowd and push my way to the back hallway. The restroom is cramped and smells like a cross between the fragrance department at Macy’s and an ashtray. My nose burns as I apply a light sheen of gloss to my lips.
God, I hate cigarette smoke. Can’t these bitches here read? There’s a no-smoking sign posted every ten feet.
Tugging the material of my dress away from my body in hopes it’ll air it out a little, I drift through the bar, making my way back to my friends. A tall figure standing next to the table halts my progression.
Mason has his hand on the back of my chair as he converses with the group. His dirty blond hair is carelessly tousled, maybe a bit wet. I can’t tell from this distance. He wears a fitted blue T-shirt and jeans, and as he reaches across the table to extend his hand to Reese, the material stretches over his ass and lean thighs. A hint of flesh peeks out from above his waistband.
Fuck. Okay, he’s here. He’s here, and he looks like that.
Change of plans.
I cut a hard left through the crowd and grab a stool at the bar.
No way am I going to sit at that table with seven pairs of eyes on me like I’m some sort of freak-show exhibit. Joey is clearly already on a mission to embarrass me tonight, and I haven’t had nearly enough alcohol to tolerate his obnoxiousness yet.
I wave over the bartender. “Give me something. Not beer. Something . . . girly. Or wine. I don’t care. Surprise me.”
The older man smiles, then turns and grabs a glass.
I set my clutch on the wood, fiddling with the contents. Phone, cash, keys, license, lip gloss. A warm body presses against my back.
“Little devil. You’re hard to find.”
A shiver runs through me as his breath moves against my hair. I turn my head, then tilt it back.
Mason moves to stand beside me. I fight the urge to grab his face and molest him.
It’s a struggle.
I wet my lips. “Hey, hi. Did you just get here?”
Obviously, I already know the answer to this question. Way to act like you haven’t been watching for him, Brooke.
He smiles and slowly sinks onto the stool next to me. “I did. Class ran over a bit. I had to shower, find the place. Why are you over here and not with your mates?”
I risk a glance in their direction.
Juls waves. Dylan smiles from her seat.
Oh, my God. Is Joey seriously videoing this with his phone?
“It was a bit crowded.” I swivel on my stool so that Mason’s body completely shields mine. “And I was trying to avoid this guy who has a tendency to stalk. You might know him. He’s Australian too.”
He pulls his shoulders back and looks around the bar. “Yeah? Point this wanker out. I’ll take care of him. Unless he’s a big fella. If that’s the case, I’ll sneak you out the back.”
I laugh as the bartender sets my glass down in front of me.
It’s a tall, skinny beverage. Something blended, with red and white slush swirling together and a pineapple wedge tucked on the rim.
“That’s fancy lookin’.”
I nod at Mason’s observation as my hand closes around the chilled glass. I take a sip. Very tropical.
“So, was the turn-out for class today as ridiculous as last night?”
“You thought it was ridiculous?” His mouth pulls tight. He looks adorably puzzled.
“Women were lined up outside like you were handing out free orgasms.” I give him a cheeky grin. “Clearly, you weren’t. Unless that service was offered to everyone except me.”
His face softens with a smile. “Nah, that’s the Brooke special. It comes with dinners and private lessons. Spending time together. Friendship.”
“Friendship? You want to be my friend?”
“Yeah.”
“And you want to sleep with me?”
“I want everything,” he states negligently. “Friendship is a part of it. Why wouldn’t it be?”
I shrug. My eyes fixate on the bar.
This glorious specimen of a man also wants a friendship out of this. How . . . strange.
“Are you drinking?” I ask, desperate for a subject change.
Feelings. Friendship. More.
He needs alcohol.
I glance back up to catch the quick shake of his head.