Page 36 of Bridesmaid to Bride

The stripper approaches me, whispering, “One more quick dance before I go?”

I fling up a palm. “Oh, no. I’m all good.”

“Come on, Manhattan. Have fun with it.” By the heat in his eyes, I realize he wants this tease, and now I want to give it to him.

I look at the stripper and nod. “Let’s do it.”

Then she straddles me, delivering a performance that would make a Vegas showgirl take notes. I laugh, glad I’m drunk, because right now, it’s actually fun. But even better: West’s jaw is somewhere near his ankles.

“Relax, West,” I say over the music, “it’s just a little bump and giggle.” I realize it was me who was all weird about this just a minute ago, but right now I’m feeling it. I don’t get why Paige thinks this is the end of the world, but whatever.

“Right.” West finally snaps his mouth shut. “Do we have time for her to do that to you again?” There’s something in his voice that makes my skin light up and ache for him. His eyes are telling me he wants to do things to me, and I want to do things to him right back.

“Nope.” I tip her and send her on her way. Now we’ve got a party to keep alive. And if it means taking a few laps in the ridiculous rodeo, so be it.

“Ante up, boys,” I declare with a grin, fanning the cards like a pro. The chips clink and slide across the green felt as West eyes me, a playful glint in his gaze.

“Think you can bluff your way through this one, Manhattan?” He throws in his chips.

“Watch and learn, boys.” I toss my hair. The air is thick with swagger and the sweet scent of victory.

“I like you like this,” West mutters.

As the game progresses, my pile of chips turns into a mountain.

“Damn, woman,” Kyle whistles, “you’re cleaning us out!”

“Sorry, not sorry.” I rake in another pot, my heart pounding in rhythm with the jazz crooning from the speakers.

West leans back in his chair, his gaze never leaving me as I lay down another winning hand. I catch the edge in his stare, the heat, and my pulse quickens. He’s got that look again—the one that says he’d love to pin me against the nearest wall and have his way with me. I can’t say I don’t feel the same. There’s a magnetic force hanging in the air, electrifying and frustrating.

“Shit, Eva, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say we’ve found your superpower,” West drawls in an accent I didn’t know he had, his voice a low rumble.

I lean into his ear, brushing my lips on his lobe when I whisper, “Or maybe you boys are just easy to beat.”

“Oh, I’m so easy,” he slurs, turning to meet my gaze.

I enjoy the play of emotions on his face—pride, amusement, and something else, something deeper. “Is that so?”

“With you, yes,” he croaks, and there’s not a drop of humor.

A bunch of my parts tingle, and a silent moment passes between us, charged with tension. I want to dive in, see where it leads, but the group of women walk in, and I need to make sure they join the fun.

“Come on over, ladies,” I slur, clearly drunk. They’re all squeals and happiness as Zach pulls Paige aside to have her listen to the voicemail.

Luckily, all must be forgiven because Paige and Zach make out on the couch like it’s prom night.

And let’s be real—although West is still holding himself back, I know he wants to hook up with me. And something primal in me wants me to push him until he caves.

And it’s not for the cameras because they’re gone.

18

The Pantry

EVA

At the card table with a mountain of chips in front of me, my phone buzzes again, and I check. It’s Skye.

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