Page 32 of For Crosby

I waited, unsure what he could possibly need to say to me.

“I never thanked you for your advice at my party.” His blue eyes practically twinkled and his damn dimples dug into his cheeks. Did the guy have to be so hot?

“No need to thank me. It was obvious what you needed to do. Besides, I’m a sucker for a happy ending.”

He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and pulled me into him, dropping a kiss on the crown of my head like a big brother would do. “I owe you one.”

“Think any of your men will be here?” Finlay asked, interrupting our moment.

Forester’s arm dropped away from my shoulders, and I wished it hadn’t left me feeling bereft. “Men?”

I rolled my eyes. “My friend is clearly buzzed and doesn’t know when to zip it.”

He glanced back to Finlay, waiting for her to fill in the blanks.

She zipped her lips like a little kid would do and tossed away the imaginary key. The girl wasn’t a big drinker, so any alcohol affected her. Usually, it was cute. Tonight, when she was drawing attention to me, not so much.

Forester looked to me concerned. “Someone fucking with you?”

“Retract the claws macho football player,” I laughed. “I can protect myself.”

He smirked. “Says the little spitfire.”

“I’m not little.”

Finlay and Forester exchanged a knowing look before I turned away from them and checked out the dance floor. Couples swayed to the slow song filtering through the speakers.

My thoughts reeled me back to the last time I’d been there. I’d thought something might happen between Forester and me. The way he held me on the dance floor. The way he stared into my eyes. The way he made me feel. Now I knew he hadn’t been seeing me at all. He’d been trying to get over his ex.

Ugh. I was so pathetic.

I could feel someone standing beside me.

“Hey. I didn’t know you’d be here,” he drawled.

I turned to my left. Jeremy stood there. I didn’t even bother trying to hide my disgust. “Why would you?”

“You’re still mad.” The guy was a lot of things, but he clearly knew a disgusted female when he saw one.

“Not mad. Just nothing.”

“Look—”

“No, you look,” I said. “You clearly have something you’re holding over Crosby to make him put up with your immature crap.”

“Says who?”

“Why don’t you leave him alone?”

“You don’t understand.”

“You’re right. I don’t. Maybe the dean will.”

“Be smart, Sabrina,” he warned, his tone hardened and his eyes all wide and scary. “You wouldn’t want to start something you don’t know how to stop.”

“This one of ’em?” Forester said, pulling my attention away from Jeremy.

Jeremy reached in front of me and held his fist out to bump Forester’s—as if he hadn’t just threatened me. “Hey, Trace Forester. Nice to meet you, man.”

---