“I don’t know if that helps or makes it worse,” I said.
“Why would it make it worse?” Remi asked.
“I don’t know… Because my stomach is in knots, and I’m sweating in weird places, and I don’t know what to do with my hands.” I had to pause as we all shared a laugh at my expense. When we recovered, I added, “It’s weird because last summer, I didn’t have any of this anxiety. Probably because I didn’t have time to think about it; I just did it.”
“Okay, so what would make it less stressful?”
I pressed my lips together, shaking my head.
One side of his mouth quirked up and wrinkles pressed into his forehead. “You like him, but does that mean you want a relationship, or do you want a couple of fun nights with him?”
“How could we have a relationship? He doesn’t even live here. I’m so busy—I shouldn’t be out tonight. I should be home sleeping, or catching up on charts, or any number of things.”
“You could let us help more,” Remi said as Nora demanded, “Will you let us help you?”
I went on as if they hadn’t said anything—it felt wrong to ask them to do more than they already were. It was my business, and I should have more responsibilities.
“But I really want to see him.” I was sure my helplessness showed all over my face and the droop of my shoulders. “He’s great. He’s thoughtful, and nice—”
“And unbelievably hot,” Nora offered.
I exhaled in a whoosh and smiled. “Unbelievably hot.”
My eyebrows shot up in surprise when Brooks said, “People don’t stay single forever. If you don’t say something… Well, regret fucking sucks.”
His observation seemed personal, but I couldn’t see how. Then again, he’d never shared that part of himself with me. He stared out at the parking lot in his usually impassive way. White headlights flashed across the contours of his face, but it didn’t reveal any more insight about the thoughts underneath.
Nora’s expression was void of all emotion and unreadable, proving that she understood exactly what he was talking about, but she’d never let on.
Next to me, Remi’s large chest rose and fell. “Regretdoesfucking suck.”
I didn’t have to look to see how those words wore on him; I understood exactly what he was thinking about. There was a shadow that etched into his eyes the day his ex-wife, Alicia, left. Years later, it was still there—an open wound.
My phone buzzed, and I looked down to find a text from Elijah.I’m here. Where are you at?
The organs in my gut flipped.
Patio, I sent back.
Lifting the Moscow mule’s copper cup, I toasted before throwing back the remaining contents. “To no regrets.”
Brooks began a slow clap, and Remi threw his head back and laughed. Nora whooped, and I tried to convince my insides to appear as self-assured as my outsides.
Chapter 8
Hazel
ElijahMarchcouldcontroltime. It was the only explanation for the way seconds slowed as he opened the door from the bar.
My friends were still clapping and hollering, but my attention was fully focused on the movement of his body. The distribution of his weight over his stylish brown boots. The shape of his knuckles holding the door handle as he scanned the tables. His eyebrows were drawn together until he found me, and a dizzying smile spread across his face.
The string of globe lights cast warm hues across his sharp cheekbones, and the freshly trimmed beard covering his jaw. The waves of his hair were tousled; a brunette curl hung over one eyebrow, giving him a rakish quality. My fingertips practically itched to brush it back.
A jean jacket hung open over a forest green flannel shirt he’d tucked into dark blue jeans. It all fit just right—tight enough where I could see the shape of his shoulders and thighs, but only hints of his pecs and biceps. Masculine. Effortless. Mouth-watering.
He closed the gap between us in fluid strides, and my heart thundered with each one. I was so fixated on him that I didn’t notice Sterling Strauss, the closest thing the town had to a publicist, trailing behind until they were at the table on the other side of Remi.
That was when I realized I was smiling as well. It was too big, but it matched my emotions—too excited, too nervous, too infatuated.