Page 28 of Wasted On You

“Will you stop with the flirting?”

“Nope.” Ryland backed away and tugged on his tie, loosening it. “If you dump Lafferty, give me a call.”

“In your dreams, kid,” she quipped. Ivy shook her head and watched him disappear into the crowd. She’d known Ryland pretty much his whole life, and sometimes she worried about him. The Bridgestones had had a lot of traumas to deal with, and though they’d managed to pull together a once fractured family, that kind of stuff didn’t go away. Ivy knew hidden scars were the worst kind to deal with. They left the kind of marks that never went away. The kind of marks that were always with you even if you thought it was long gone.

She should know. She had a few of her own.

Ivy straightened and swore under her breath because as she faced the large room, one of them was headed her way.

Her night had gone from mediocre to bad in the space of five minutes. She looked at her empty wine glass and thought of leaving. Then as she raised her head and met a pair of big green eyes, she thought fuck it.

She wasn’t going to make things easy on Val Hutchins.

She turned and ordered another glass of wine.

Chapter8

Mike Paul knewthe moment Ivy arrived at the charity event. The air changed, making it hard to breathe, and the guys he was talking to faded away like dust in the wind. His body was on high alert as if every single cell he owned was fired up. He didn’t particularly like the sensation. Was he doomed to feel like this for the rest of his life? He yanked on his tie and tried to slow his breathing down.

He’d caught sight of her dark auburn hair and profile, then lost her in the crowd, which did nothing to improve his mood. With a scowl firmly in place, he scanned the room but, after a minute or so, gave up and turned back to the guys.

He needed to focus. Keep his shit together.

His buddy Jefferson Smith droned on about his new crop of heifers, while Dale Martin was obsessed with some Sports Illustrated model who’d recently married a hockey player.

“Can you imagine that?” Dale asked. “A woman like her marrying some knucklehead from Canada.”

“A knucklehead who just signed a 100-million-dollar contract extension,” Jack Martin said with a shrug before changing the subject to the new pitcher for the Yankees, some up-and-comer from Florida. Since Mike Paul didn’t give two flying shits about the Yankees, he said nothing. And when Colin Mayberry kept complaining about the sad state of his marriage, Mike Paul rolled his eyes and shoved his hands into the pockets of his dress pants. According to Colin, his wife was no longer interested in bedroom shenanigans.

“How long has it been?” Dale asked.

Colin scratched at his beard and winced. “Three months.”

“That’s nothing,” Mike Paul muttered. God, he wanted to poke out his eyes. He’d gone so long without sex, he was surprised his dick still worked. Even then it was a solitary quickie in the shower.

“Huh?” Jefferson frowned.

Mike Paul ignored the man and turned away. He was done with these bozos. He stepped away and searched the room for the only person that mattered and would have kept on searching, but one of the Danby twins, Melinda, if he wasn’t mistaken, grabbed onto his arm. The woman was tipsy and leaned into him, her pretty face flush from too much wine. He’d always liked the twins, but at the moment only had time for one woman, and damned if he could locate her again.

“They finally managed to get you up on that auction block.” She talked slowly as if trying her best not to slur her words. Definitely, Melinda, he thought. He noticed the mole near her right eye.

“I think maybe you need to have some of those fancy sandwiches the church ladies prepared.”

“That sounds good to me,” she said and giggled as she dug in and threaded her arm through his.

Now, Mike Paul had been raised a gentleman, and even though he wanted nothing more than to find Ivy, he could never leave an intoxicated woman to her own devices. With no choice but to help the twin at his side, he maneuvered her toward the banquet table, smiling and waving like a damn show pony as, seemingly, every single woman in Big Bend suddenly appeared and tried to catch his attention.

Jordan McHale waved from across the way. Fresh out of her third divorce, she was no doubt looking to fill the spot vacated by her ex-husband, Michael.

Bianca Martin raised a glass in his direction.

Cate Brady did the same.

Already annoyed at his sister for putting him in this situation, his mood was getting darker by the minute.

“Are you mad at me?” Melinda asked, clearly puzzled at the look on his face.

“No.” He forced a smile. It wasn’t her fault he was a featured item on a menu he wanted no part of. He held a plate in one hand and guided her with his other as Melinda piled up on ham and cheese, chicken, tuna salad, and a couple of brownies. He then tried to get her to sit at one of the tables, but Melinda wasn’t having it. She preferred swaying on her feet and leaned into him as she stuffed an entire ham and cheese into her mouth.

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