Page 12 of L.O.V.E

“Ready.” Ready to get the evening over with.

Last thing I wanted was to dive back into the dating pool, but Lacey was so happy. So in love, lust, and all those fun things, and her guy was just the sweetest. His friends had to be awesome. Besides, Lacey would never set me up with a man unless she deemed him worthy. Her standards were far stricter than mine.

We swayed through the entrance of Bar Del Bruno, the hottest new Italian restaurant in Seattle. High ceilings. Amber lights dangling from the dark wood beams. Candles at every table. A grand piano sat nestled in a dark corner, a young man wearing a suit and a slicked-back undercut setting the mood for love, his long fingers dancing over the ivories.

“Bye-bye dating funk,” she whispered in my ear, giving my fingers a squeeze.

No sense fibbing. I acted the runway model, working my heels, swinging my hips like a pro. The greatest accessory to any outfit was confidence. I layered myself in that shit, no matter how thin the veils, my dating-game face firmly in place.

I spied Ellis first, his six-foot-three stature hard to miss, and my racing pulse kicked up another thousand RPMs. Next to him sat a handsome man. Dark red hair, tan, square jaw. Fit. Tall. His focus was aimed at the woman who sat across the table from him, her back to me, and he laughed at something she said.

Ellis’s smile was electrifying. “There’s my girl,” he announced, focused on Lacey while he pushed to stand.

The woman turned in her seat, her face coming into view. Platinum blond hair, high cheekbones, heart-shaped lips painted red. The perfect, straight nose was new. Not the inky black serpentine stare, though. I knew that glare all too well. Victoria Ford. My childhood tormentor.

See? Mean for mean.

My heart, lungs, muscles, and wits seized in one epic clunk, an old motor sputtering a final protest before rendering its host immobile. I tripped over my feet, but Lacey grabbed my arm, holding me upright, squeezing hard, conveying her own shock.

Without causing a scene, she whispered, “I had no idea. I’m so sorry.”

There was no time to run or gather my scattered defenses. Lacey disappeared between Ellis’s massive arms.

A warm hand surrounded mine. “You must me Natalie.” His voice was silk, his gaze approving.

“Hi. Hey.” I forced my attention from his paisley tie to his honey-colored eyes. Dear Lord, he was pretty. Clean shaven. Thick hair trimmed short. “Martin?”

His lips parted in an approving grin. “Nice to meet you.”

Ellis cleared his throat. “Ladies, this is Victoria—”

“Ford.” Lacey interrupted. “We know.”

Ever the faithful friend, Lacey leaned closer and rested her hand on my shoulder, giving me a squeeze. “Hi, Martin. You look great. Love that tie.” She cleared her throat and darted widened eyes toward Martin.

I realized I was still moving his arm up and down and dropped his hand.

Ellis waited for Lacey to sit before making himself comfortable, then gestured toward Victoria and asked, “How do you ladies know each other?”

Awkward.

Clueless to my discomfort, Martin pulled out the chair next to him, helped me out of my coat, and waited for me to sit, which I did, grateful to be a few feet farther from Victoria.

Much to my surprise, Victoria was the first to speak. “I tortured poor Nats all through high school.”

Her gaze covered me like a flee-infested blanket, offering temporary warmth but the promise of misery.

Lacey’s eyes narrowed, aimed in Victoria’s direction, before she turned to Ellis. “I’m more interested to know how you and Victoria know each other.”

Ellis offered Lacey a heartwarming smile. My chest deflated, envious of the adoration lighting his face. “She’s Cole’s fiancée.”

Victoria hovered her hand over the table, wiggling her fingers, showcasing a moderate-sized diamond.

“Beautiful,” I managed to squeak. “Congratulations.” Either the poor guy was clueless to her depravity, or maybe she’d snared a masochist. My heart bled for the future Mr. Victoria Ford.

Holding back my ire made my stomach ache, so I excused myself to the ladies room rather than unleash a lifetime of stored retorts at the beaming bride-to-be.

Lacey shot me an apologetic grin.

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