Page 48 of Whiskey Kisses

“Because we didn’t want you to,” he says, stepping back to lean against the wall.

I slip right off my chair, following him like I’m on a leash. “Why not?”

“Didn’t want to interfere with your big plans,” he says. “It didn’t seem like you wanted me around tonight.”

“So, you just stalked us instead?” I retort, poking his chest.“That’s what you meant when you told me not to worry about Timmy. You wereallplanning on being here.” I look around for my towheaded bodyguard. “Where is Timmy, anyway? You didn’t leave him at home, did you?”

“He’s here.” Tristan closes his hand over my finger, putting it down as he looks across the crowded room. “He’s getting our drinks.”

I swallow, my heart clanging against my ribs at the feel of his big, warm hand covering mine. It’s like we’re in another, very flirty, dimension down here, where touching comes easier. He brings his gaze back to mine suddenly, smiling when he catches me staring up at him.

“It’s not that I didn’t want you around,” I say in a small voice. “I did.”

“Could’ve fooled me. But even if you didn’t,” he says, letting go of my hand to sweep my hair over my shoulder. “I wasn’t letting you run around town by yourself.”

“You weren’tlettingme? How very macho man of you.” I scoff, pretending the way he’s stroking my hair isn’t tangling my emotions like a strand of old Christmas lights. “I’ve run around town by myself for years.”

“That was before you were my wife,” he says, letting go of me altogether as Timmy pops up with an armful of drinks.

Goodness, the way those words wrap around me, holding me tight the way I wish he would. This is why I didn’t want him to know about my birthday. I knew I’d end up just like this, tipsy andwishing.

We play darts and then pool, Opal and I demolishing Finn and Malachi as Tristan and Timmy talk shit from the sidelines. Then Finn and I take on Tristan and Opal, who we beat. Tristan narrows his eyes at me as the others rack the balls for one more game. “You’re good at this,” he accuses.

I lift my hair in an effort to cool off. “Guess I’m full of surprises.”

Tristan’s eyes follow the movement, lingering on the exposed skin of my neck, and I feel a pleasurable shiver run down my spine. “Guess so,” he says quietly, his lips curling into that familiar smirk. Suddenly ourcorner of the crowded bar is too warm, the atmosphere too charged, and my pulse flutters like a trapped bird.

We’ve been like this all night, blurring the line between friendly banter and flirtation. I’m lucid enough to know that I shouldn’t project, but every time I look at him, he’s looking back at me. He seems almost curious tonight, like maybe he wants me, too. I’m sure he sees the very same thing in my eyes. It’s exhilarating, but I keep reminding myself that it’s likely an illusion. Tristan’s a bonafide flirt. This little game of push-and-pull we’ve been playing all night will end the moment we leave the bar.

The pool game restarts with the sharp clack of one ball hitting another. Opal winks at me from across the felt table, glancing at Tristan like she knows something’s up. I’m not playing this round, so I lean against the wall with Finn, snickering at the trash-talking and snapping pictures with my phone.

But that undercurrent of tension remains, flaring up whenever Tristan’s eyes meet mine. It’s like a guilty pleasure, tinged with jitters.

I don’t hate it.

We stay until last call,pouring out onto the street with everyone else around three. I look around the busy sidewalk blearily, remembering the last time I was in town with Tristan this late at night. Thankfully, there haven’t been any sightings of obnoxious exes tonight.

“Your place or mine?” jokes Tristan, elbowing me.

I huff a soft, sleepy laugh, and just like that, the spell is broken. I don’t know if I’m relieved or disappointed.

Opal yawns, swaying slightly as she declares her need for sleep. Tristan orders her an Uber then asks Malachi to ride with her so she gets home safe. They’ve been flirting all night, but Opal’s like Tristan in that way—it doesn’t always mean something with her. And anyway, Timmy jumps in their car at the last second so Malachi won’t have to ride home alone later. This is usually the case. They’re always in pairs.

Finn insists that I ride shotgun even though we’re in his car. He takes the back seat, snoring softly by the time we’ve reached the edge of town. Feeling lazy, I recline back in my seat, watching Tristan drive. He’squiet and steady at the wheel, not as tipsy as I thought, a faraway look on his pretty face. We’re nearly home before he seems to remember I exist, and he glances down at me, smiling slightly when he catches me staring.

At home, I grab the tallest glass I can find and fill it with water before heading to my room. Kicking off my shoes, I gather my hair into a messy topknot and pace restlessly around my room. I’m still a little buzzed, riding high off the best night out I’ve had in a long, long time.

Apparently, I’m not the only one who’s wide awake because the distinct smell of weed hits my nose while I’m brushing my teeth.Really, guys?Rinsing my mouth, I wander into the living room and peek out the sliding glass doors. Tristan, Finn, Malachi, and Timmy are all on the deck, sitting on lounge chairs in the dark. “Thanks for telling me y’all were smoking.”

“But you never want to,” Timmy laughs, which is true. I’m rarely in the mood to partake, and when I do, it’s usually edibles. But I’m feeling frisky tonight.

Finn reaches over and hands me a smoking joint, which I hit lightly, unsure of how strong it is. Malachi stands, gesturing for me to sit. He’s the sweetest and most considerate of the group, always the first to help around the house. They’re all good guys, though.

“I’m okay,” I tell him, already feeling a little silly from the one hit. “Thanks.”

“You sure?” he says. “I’m about to head in.”

I hesitate, hoping I didn’t mess anything up by coming outside. Maybe they were having guy time. “You don’t have to?—"

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