Page 10 of Marrying the Billionaire Single Dad
"I think it’s best I leave while I still have some dignity intact," I mumble. "Not that I have any left. What the hell was I thinking earlier?"
"I don’t think you were thinking at all." Amelie chuckles.
"You’re right about that." I scowl. I had reacted to the presence of the dominating, larger-than-life male who prowls over to join the other men clustered on the other side of the island. And why the hell am I still watching him. "I… I shouldn’t have come."
"What nonsense." Amelie winds her arm through mine, "I want you here with me. After all, it’s not every day that a woman gets engaged, huh?" She holds up her hand and I stare at the sapphire that glitters on the ring around her finger.
"It’s gorgeous," I say sincerely, even as my heart twists inside of my chest. Shit, I will not be envious, will not. She deserves all the happiness in the world. I turn and throw my arms around her. "Congratulations." I squeeze her shoulders. "How did you meet him?"
"We met at Summer's wedding, then ended up double-booking the same cottage over the festive season."
"No," I gasp.
"Yes." She nods. "I thought the sparks between Weston and I were pretty explosive, but I’ve changed my mind."
"Oh?" I lean back, peer into her face, "Why’s that?"
"Because, the chemistry between you and Damian is enough to set this house on fire." She stares at me meaningfully.
"Hmm." I glance away, unable to meet her eyes. There's something between me and the rock star, all right. Some crazy connection that's throwing me off kilter and making me act so out of character.One night.Had I actually propositioned him? What the hell had I been thinking? My cheeks flush. Good thing he'd snubbed me, huh?
The same woman who’d welcomed me earlier totters over to us in her stilettos. "Hi," she says in a breathless voice, "I’m Isla."
"Jules." I shake her hand.
She pulls me in for a hug, "Soooo nice to meet you." Her embrace is warm and effusive.
"Hey," I pat her back, "so, you’re Amelie’s friend, huh?"
"As are you." She leans back, her face wreathed in a big smile, "Which makes us friends-in-law, huh?" She giggles.
I blink. Wow, the optimism pouring off of this woman… No wonder, she and Amelie get along. Unlike me… The cynical, non-believer in love, or men, for that matter. Hell, I so don’t belong here. "I need a drink," I declare.
"That’s my girl." Isla grabs my arm and drags me to the corner of the room…opposite from where the rest of the crowd—including the rock star—is huddled. "What do you fancy?" She rubs her hands together.
"Why don’t you let me do this?" I reach for the bottle of tequila, pour it into the blender, follow it up with the lime juice, the orange liqueur. I add in the agave and the syrup, followed by kosher salt, then blend it all together.
"You’ve done this before," Isla comments.
"Yep." The one thing good about being in Australia... I had partied my ass off…when I was not working. Which had been a surprise. I was—am—a loner, but being in a foreign country had been freeing. I could let go of my inhibitions. Somehow, it had felt like I wouldn’t be judged.
I pour the mixture into the margarita glasses that Isla helpfully provides, then top them off with garnish. "Here you go."
"Ooh, this looks good." Isla gulps down a mouthful, then smacks her lips, "Woman, I almost came from that sip."
I giggle. "If only it were that easy."
"Tell me about it." She shakes her head, "Have you ever come with someone fingering you?"
"Never," I shake my head.
We both turn to Amelie, whose cheeks redden.
"Oh, don’t even ask her." Isla tosses her hair over her shoulder. “Bitch has a new fiancé, who is a surgeon, so he’s clearly good with his fingers, in more ways than one."
"Who’s good with his fingers?" A woman in a pink onesie with glitter down the front saunters over to join us.
"Nothing you need to worry about, Summer," Isla scoffs. She leans in close to me. "And another who clearly has had too many O’s, courtesy of her rich bastard of a husband," she says in a whisper loud enough for the rest of them to hear.
