Page 21 of Icing the Enemy

His eyes draw in, and he squishes his nose. “Hmmm. You’re a dead ringer for her. Look.” The guy who thinks he knows who I am points at me and says something to his friends.

This cowboy thinks he’s a detective. I turn my back and watch Jennie Rae’s ship explode. Our game is already over. Preeta says, “Let’s have a drink then come back. I need to let loose. Vandy Medical School is no joke.”

“Why didn’t you own it?” Jennie Rae asks. “If it were me, I would say hell yeah. I gave him the night of his life before I stole his truck.”

“Borrowed.”

Preeta laughs as we reach the table, and the guys are engrossed in a fantasy football league conversation.

“But you are the girl in the photos, right?”

I blow out a breath in a mix of embarrassment and fury. “Yeah, but can we not talk about it? I need to drink margaritas and forget about Corbin Shearer.”

Unable to hear over the music, she yells, “Who can forget about the hottest hockey player on the Notes?”

Bill says, “Do I need to worry?”

He snuggles her under his arm, and she tips her chin up to kiss him. Shane shifts in his seat and sneaks his arm around the back of my chair. We empty our first cocktails as the background music fades out, and the first singer steps on stage with nothing but a microphone. She has brown hair, with a sleeve of tattoos, and when she sings those first few notes, I’m a fan. Her voice is husky and in tune. Rare these days. I’ll love a singer then see them in concert, and I swear they couldn’t carry a tune in a shower.

After she plays a few songs, Landon and Shane come back from the bar with more drinks. I’m surprised at how much fun I’m having. Shane’s being a gentleman, but I don’t feela connection. Maybe because only three days ago, I was with Corbin, dancing and kissing.

Push him out of your mind, I tell myself. This time, a guy comes onstage with a guitar. He goes by Sheldon and makes a joke about theBig Bang Theory. Everyone my age loves that show. He belts out country rap and has the bar rocking.

When he finishes, Preeta asks for a Galaga rematch. Jennie Rae and Landon are in a deep conversation, so we go without her. Preeta is kicking ass, and I finish my second margarita. “Damn, I’m empty.”

“Get my credit card out of my back pocket. I’m beating my high score,” Preeta says quickly. Even though we just met, I sense she’s a competitive person, wanting to get into the best med school or graduate top of her class.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, get me one too. I’m working up a sweat,” she snickers as she blows up the enemies one after the other.

I tap her credit card on the slick wooden bar that runs the length of the room, stopping about ten feet from the stage. From behind me, I hear someone say, “Oakley?” She gets louder. “Oakley’s here.”

I vaguely recognize the voice. It’s someone I met this past weekend at the wedding, but I don’t turn around. Fingers peck my shoulder.

Shit.

I order our drinks before turning around. “Oh hi. I’m sorry I’m not good with names.”

“I’m Lettie, from the wedding. Dane’s wife,” she says.

I try to play it cool. Lettie Greathouse is one half of the husband-wife country music duo. “I’m surprised you remember me.”

“No one could forget you. Not even Corbin,” she says with a slight smile, glancing over her shoulder. “You’re good for him. He needs a little trouble.”

When she moves an inch, that’s when I see him. Our eyes lock, and heat radiates. The bar is filled with music, yet it feels like I’m in a tunnel, unable to hear anyone or anything. He walks a step closer with a girl by his side and Dane on the other side of her.

Corbin takes a few steps closer. His brown eyes are bright and clear even in this dimly lit bar. I watch the muscles in his neck swallow as his jaw tightens. His gaze is dogged, refusing to be the one who quits staring first.

So, I put my pride aside and look away. “Nice to see you again, Lettie.”

“No, hang out with us. Dane and I are singing later.”

I glance at Corbin. “I don’t think that would please Corbin.”

Dane plays with Lettie’s curly blond hair, pretending not to listen to our conversation. “He’s crazy about you. We’ve known him a long time.”

“Maybe before I stole, I mean, borrowed his truck.”

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