Page 86 of Perfect Praise

Now, it doesn’t matter what, but I’d rather doanythingelse as long as it was with Maren: fuck, fight, talk, listen to camera jargon, lie there in silence and stare at the ceiling.

“What can I get for you?” she asks, her tone resting on the edge offuck me, please. The tone of voice that means she knows who I am and it’s not me but rather the idea of me she likes.

“Champagne and a water with lime, please.”

She nods and adds a sexy “Of course,” before she turns her back to make the drinks.

It’s not that I don’t find this woman attractive. She’s tall, has a nice ass, and looks like she knows how to handle herself.

It’s that I’m not interested.

Even if she threw herself at me, I don’t want my hands on anyone else.

Is this what love is? Finding the person you’d choose every single time, no matter the circumstances? I’ve certainly never felt that way before about anyone that I wasn’t related to.

And now I want to scratch my skin off where the bartender lets her fingers linger on my hand. She doesn’t miss the look I level on her that says not to fucking touch me before I yank back Maren’s drink.

Back at the table, Maren is patiently waiting for me while she reads the night’s itinerary.

I place her champagne flute on the table next to her arm and hover my hand in front of her face. “Kiss me right here,” I tell her softly, running my thumb over the spot where the bartender left her unwelcome presence.

Maren, confused but obedient, inches forward and brushes her lips along my fingers, replacing the scratchy tingle with warmth.

“Thank you,” I say.

She giggles with one eyebrow raised. “You’re welcome?”

As I pull my chair closer and sit beside her, Maren chokes on her first sip of champagne. Her eyes widen, and for a second, I think she’s actually choking, my arms readying to grab her and do the Heimlich maneuver, until I realize two people have walked up to our table.

“Tripp,” I say, doing a double-take before I stand to shake his hand.

He extends his over the table. “Locke, man. Good to see you.”

Maren tries to contain another cough. Fuck, please don’t tell me this is another one of Maren’s ex-boyfriends, because Tripp Owens is one of the few guys I like.

She swipes at her mouth with the back of her hand, and I notice she’s not looking at Tripp, but the woman beside him. Who I pray to god I haven’t slept with, because she looks that familiar. I don’t want to sit here the whole night with some past fling.

I rack my brain, though there’s no way I’ve talked to her before. Her face only registers me with a soft smile. But I have no idea how I know her.

“Locke Hughes,” I offer, “and this is my girlfriend, Maren.”

Maren stands but apparently hasn’t found her voice yet. This mysteriously familiar, stunning brunette woman has rendered her speechless for the second time since I’ve known her.

Or was it because I just called her my girlfriend out of nowhere? So out of nowhere that I don’t know where it came from myself, or how a word I haven’t uttered in over a decade slipped out of my mouth so easily.

Maren stands like a statue looking at me, her throat stuck as she chokes on words now.

“Willow,” she replies as she brings Maren into a brief hug before sliding into her seat and Tripp places a white wine in front of her.

Maren comes to life like Willow shocked her heart back to baseline, her huge smile following. “Maren Murray.”

“It’s so nice to meet you both,” Willow says. “So, are we teaming up to win something or outbidding each other in a full-on war?”

I laugh. “I’ll pay good money for the football lesson with Tripp.” My arm goes around Maren’s shoulder, and I kiss the nape of her neck, let my fingertips glide over my little hickey. “Tripp is a former Super Bowl MVP. Do you like football as much as you like golf? I can play that too.”

“About the same,” Maren quips, leaning into me.

“Give me a golf lesson,” Tripp scoffs, “and we’ll be even. I broke eighty-five a couple months ago, and now I’m thinking I missed my calling as a professional golfer. Those birdies have me wanting to getback on the course every damn week, but how am I going to do that with my schedule?”

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