Lisa and I spent the rest of the afternoon decorating her house and preparing appetizers. She knew how to throw a party. At six o’clock we went up to her bedroom and changed. The theme reflected her love for all things ’50s, and she poured me into a red-and-white dress with a flouncy skirt and a narrow bodice. The back came down low, showing off the outline of my tattoo. Lisa pulled my hair into a high ponytail, and the effect was complete.
We were in the kitchen, testing Lisa’s spiked punch, when Jamie came home. She swatted him away from the food and sent him straight upstairs to get ready. When he came back down twenty minutes later he was wearing black pants, a matching vest, a white dress shirt, and a bowler hat. The vest he’d worn before, without a shirt under it. Leave it to Lisa to make a costume party out of her engagement celebration.
Chris showed up shortly after, decked out in a suit. When he saw me, he gave a long, low whistle. “Hayden’s going to flip his shit.”
“In a good way or a bad way?” I asked.
“That depends on who hits on you tonight.”
“Will he be here soon?”
“He’ll be a while yet. He ended up with a last-minute newbie.”
Cassie and Nate stopped by for a drink. There was talk about Thanksgiving dinner preparations. I’d tried not to think about the upcoming holiday. It was too close to the anniversary of the crash for comfort. Both Cassie and Lisa informed me I was to come for dinner, enlisting me to make cupcakes. Apparently it was quite the event, followed by Black Friday shopping.
Just after nine, the tone of the party changed. The house began to fill with Inked Armor clientele and acquaintances of Lisa’s and Jamie’s. I felt inadequate among the inked and the pierced, like an imposter surrounded by those who had embraced the lifestyle to an extent that I hadn’t. Hayden was such an extremist that it made me curious about the kind of women he’d been with prior to me. I didn’t have to wonder for long, though.
A tall blonde with death trap shoes came into the kitchen and shrieked when she saw Lisa. They hugged, obviously old friends. The blonde didn’t even acknowledge my existence as she looked around the adjoining rooms. “I don’t see Hayden. Is he busy already?”
“He’s not here yet,” Lisa replied, shooting me a quick glance.
“Well, when he gets here, tell him I’m looking forward to catching up.” She winked at Lisa and sauntered off.
“Who was that?” I asked, watching her long legs disappear around the corner.
“Just a friend.” Lisa poured more wine into my glass. “Hayden should be here soon.”
Several more women asked after him. While some of them wore designs that were clearly his, not all of them seemed to be clients. I shouldn’t have been surprised. He was gorgeous and talented and recalcitrant, a heady combination of masculine energy. They all preened as they surveyed the room and wore the same look of disappointment when Lisa informed them he had not yet arrived.
When he did, he was a sight to behold. Dressed in black pants and a white button-down, he obviously decided he’d tried hard enough. His sleeves were rolled up to his forearms. The top two buttons of his shirt were open, revealing a white undershirt. His hair was out of control, as if he’d been in too much of a rush to bother with it. He didn’t look happy as he scanned the room, his frown deepening as he took in the crowd until he saw me standing alone in the kitchen. His eyes burned with a predatory gleam as he took a step toward me.
And then some she-banshee threw herself at him.
27
HAYDEN
Son of a mother-fucking bitch.
Of the dozens of people packed into the living room, I could count four that I’d been with. And not as in dated. As in fucked once and never repeated the act again. Getting through the throng of bodies to Tenley would be like crossing a minefield. I’d be lucky if I didn’t come out with shrapnel in my ass.
Lisa had warned me, but I hadn’t factored how many of the girls Lisa and Jamie were friends with were also familiar with me. Not much had been off-limits back in the day. I probably should have prepared Tenley a little better for who or what she might encounter.
To make the situation worse, Tenley looked disconcertingly hot dressed up like a ’50s housewife, with her hair pulled back in a smooth ponytail. People were looking at her. She’d been here for hours without me, and any number of assholes could have hit on her. I wanted to flip her skirt up, wrap that ponytail around my hand, and bend her over the closest surface available, just to make a point. I didn’t even have a chance to close the door before Trina, a former fuck, came hurtling at me. I’d been with her once, three years ago. Sienna had participated, too. I flinched as she vise-gripped my neck in a hug. She blatantly rubbed her tits on me. I kept my hand up, refusing to return the molestation, and watched Tenley’s smile dissolve.
Fuck.
“Hey, Trina.” I disentangled myself from her.
“Hayden! How are you? You look gorgeous,” she tittered.
I had a vague memory of what she’d sounded like when she’d come. It wasn’t pleasant. Her hands were like annoying little birds, flapping around my face and my chest.
“I have someone I need to talk to. I’ll catch you later.” I stepped around her and headed for a very irritated Tenley.