Page 73 of Puck and Prejudice

Jane hits the steering with an open palm. “Shut up!”

I rub my forehead. “Not so loud, please.”

“I knew there were sparks between you two. How was it?”

“It was…hot.”

“The broody ones are always a surprise in the sack, aren’t they?” She smirks.

“Yeah, he was a nice surprise.” I can’t help the smile that blossoms on my face.

“What’s going to happen next? Are you going to start dating…”

“I don’t know. We didn’t talk after. Caroline caught us.”

“Oh no. I bet she was looking for Jackson. She has such a huge crush on him.”

Heart clench again.“I know. I’m pretty sure she thinks he’s her endgame.” I can’t keep the bitterness from my tone.

“She’ll be disappointed, then. Jackson sees her as a little sister. Chad told me as much.”

Relief washes over me. “Really?”

“You sound cheerful. Oh my God, you do want to date Jackson!”

“I don’t!” I blurt out, then grimace at the sound of my own loud voice. “I mean… I don’t know what I want.”

“You probably need to sleep with him again to see if you’re truly compatible,” Jane says with a straight face.

I narrow my eyes. “You’re enjoying this far too much.”

She laughs. “Of course I am. You never date. Besides, I think you and Jackson would be good for each other.”

I shake my head. “Don’t try to rub off your romantic notions on me.”

“Whatever. I bet you have butterflies in your stomach right now.”

“If I’m queasy it’s because of this conversation. It has nothing to do with my feelings toward Jackson.”

“Sure it doesn’t.”

“Oh, shut up.” I look out the window, lest Jane see the fact that she isn’t wrong written all over my face.

* * *

Miami Beach is a tourist destination, and it’s midday on a Saturday, but the crowd surrounding the bar isn’t ordinary. It seems word got out that some of the Lions players were here celebrating their victory.

It took a while for Jane to find parking, and then we had to walk a block. We carve a path through the crowd to get to the door of the bar, only to be denied entrance.

“Sorry, ladies. We’re at full capacity,” the bouncer tells us.

“We’re not staying. I’m here to pick up my fiancé, Chad Bingley.”

The bouncer frowns. “Sure you are, honey.”

“Hey, her name isn’t ‘honey,’ and she’s not lying,” I retort, not in the mood to take shit from a rude man.

“Whatever. You ain’t getting in,” he spits back.

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