“Was he always like this with you?” asks Sandra. “Your brother, I mean.”
I eye her. Why is she trying to get me to open up? I’m starting to consider the possibility that she and I could start something casual. Sex with no strings attached, maybe. I don’t plan to start spilling my guts out for her though. If that’s what she wants, she can look somewhere else.
I shrug.
She purses her lips, laughing a little. “Right. I forgot the silent part of the strong silent type. I get it. You don’t want to talk about it.”
“Yeah, something like that.”
“Am I allowed to ask how you’ve been? I mean, since the divorce. I spent so much time talking to Tara about it and never really thought about your side, until…”
“I’ve been fine. Better.” Except for the part where I divorced her before getting full ownership of my shop. I wasn’t going to subject Roman to that shit for a day longer than I had to. After I found out she cheated it just got worse. Fast. It wasn’t a good environment for a kid, and I had to do something. Besides, there was no way in hell I wanted to have another baby with her once I saw the real her. Trying to control the damage she can do to Roman is a big enough job as it is.”
“That’s why you practically live in your garage and never go out anymore?”
I clutch my beer bottle a little tighter, looking down at her. She shrinks back some from my gaze, but still holds my eyes. “That’s none of your business.”
Sandra sighs. “Look, Reid. As far as I see it, we have a common enemy, and he’s currently groping your ex-wife and my best friend. He’s also threatening to destroy something we both love. This town. So maybe we can just… I don’t know, agree to play nice for a while?”
“Play nice…” I say softly, smirking. “You want to play?”
She swallows, looking down. “I didn’t mean like that. I just mean--”
I feel the beer tingling through me, dulling my inhibitions and my good sense. Normally, I wouldn’t be petty enough to dance with my ex-wife’s best friend just to piss her off. But I’ve already had a few beers, and I’m having a hard time with the whole, ‘why not’ question. The part of me that would never consider leading a girl on because I need to get married or I lose my shop is quiet, too. All that’s left is the pulsing of my cock and the knowledge that the woman in front of me is fucking gorgeous.
“I know what you meant. Let’s dance,” I say, grabbing her and pulling her toward the dance floor.
“But--” she stammers.
Her voice is drowned out as we get closer to the speakers and the stage. The song has a driving beat, and I fall into it effortlessly, my hands finding Sandra’s body. Her eyelids go heavy as I touch her, mouth slightly open as she looks down to where our hips meet. She’s stiff at first, but I let my hands and body guide her, coaxing her into loosening up, inch by inch. Sandra bites her lip slowly, keeping her eyes down in the most irresistibly sexy way before flicking them up to meet mine. She runs a hand through her hair and lets herself go, rocking her shoulders and hips, finding the rhythm and riding it with me. The people around us blur into insignificance. There’s only her and those dark blue eyes locked on mine. Nothing else.
My hand finds it’s way to the small of her back and then her ass, where I squeeze a healthy handful and press her into me. She grinds herself into me, the friction of her belly against me like bliss against my rock-hard cock.
I bend my neck down and tilt her chin up. She closes her eyes, body still swaying and pressing to the music. Her head extends toward me, mouth open. I take her invitation, kissing her recklessly, plunging my tongue into her mouth and finding hers, swirling against her, losing myself in the moment. Fuck she tastes good.
“What the fuck?” demands a familiar voice.
I open one eye, not ready to break the kiss. When I see Tara staring at me, face a mask of fury with hands planted on her hips, I reluctantly pull back.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Tara asks Sandra. She punctuates her question with a hard push to Sandra’s chest.
I move between them instantly. “Don’t put your hands on her,” I say carefully.
“Or what?” asks Mark, moving to stand beside Tara.
“Please, give me an excuse to break your fucking teeth,” I say dryly to my brother.
Mark tries to smile off my threat, but I can see the hint of discomfort in his features. “Of course. My big brother, the barbarian. Everything ends with a threat.”
“Yeah. Sounds about right. So fuck off. Both of you.”
Tara looks at me and shakes her head. “You’re supposed to be watching Roman and you’re here groping this slut, drunk off your ass?”
“Watch your mouth,” I warn. “ And Roman is with Lyla. He’s taken care of.”
“Slut?” asks Sandra. “If I’m a slut for dancing with a single guy, what are you for fucking your ex-husband’s brother?”
“Dancing?” asks Tara. “It looked like you were shoving your tongue down his throat to me.”
I sigh, realizing this is going nowhere. “Tara can fuck Mark all she wants. Just like you can kiss whoever you want,” I say, pulling Sandra close and kissing her hard and deep, moving my hands across her until I don’t even hear Tara trying to get my attention anymore. When we finally pull apart, Tara and Mark are gone.
“Come on,” I say. “Let’s get some more drinks.”
Sandra’s face is flushed and her chest heaves for breath. “Don’t you have to drive Roman home?” she asks.
“Nah,” I say. “Lyla’s taking him home and getting him in bed. She’s a good kid. She will stay over until I get home. I’ll just toss her some more money if I’m late.”
Sandra bites her lip. “I think I just completely ruined things with my best friend. Yeah, I could use a drink.”
I grin. “I could use a few dozen.”
8
Sandra
I start the long walk to my bakery, hardly thinking about anything else on my walk besides the throbbing pain in my head and the lingering confusion about last night. Reid and I had so much to drink. I can barely remember anything. I hardly even remember getting out of bed.
I unlock the bakery and get to work. I still have about thirty minutes before Jennifer and Lauren are due to show up. I use it to mix up a batch of dough and start separating it to sit out for proofing. I have a regimented system for proofing my dough, and I stick a timer onto the tray and set it for specific times based on the type of dough. Most bakers just set it and pull it after at least a day has passed, or two days, depending on the type of dough. I control it down to the hour, and that’s part of what makes my product so delicious.