Page 2 of It's Only Love

“Excuse me,” Christy tried again, peering around him and catching Justine’s eyes for a moment before he moved to the side and blocked her view. She started to get the impression he was doing this on purpose.

“I told you, hon, February 29th I would meet you here,” Justine cooed back at him, amusement in her voice.

“Wait a minute, there ain’t no February 29th,” he drawled, draping an arm around Justine’s shoulders, Christy’s eyes moved to his back again, his shirt hugging his muscles, so tight it threatened to rip which would be wonderful awful.

“There is every four years,” Justine replied patiently.

“Aw shucks, there is?” he chuckled.

Did he just ‘aw shucks’? Who even says that these days? Christy was getting madder by the second.

“Excuse me!” Christy said loudly, her tone snooty. She finally got his attention, but Sexy Shoulders turned sharply, and he knocked her again. This time she couldn’t grab hold of the railing and went sailing off her barstool. Before she managed to faceplant the wooden floor, a pair of strong arms banded around her waist and hefted her up, dumping her unceremoniously back on her barstool.

She began sputtering with indignation, but when she looked up to face him and found herself staring into the electric blue eyes belonging to the man from the booth, her words died in her throat. She thought the deep color of them had been a trick of the light but up close she could see it wasn’t, they were bright and wide, sharp with a touch of amusement in them. Her stomach dropped as she realized, she had only seen eyes this amazing on one man.

Dean Campbell.

The man she spent her teenage years trying to impress, the man responsible for one of her most painful memories, the man she now couldn’t stand, was right here in the flesh.

Christy took him in, his blond hair styled perfectly, thick black lashes framing those incredible blue eyes, high cheekbones, and a sharp-bladed nose perched above a wide, lush red mouth. That mouth she knew was framed by the cutest dimples she had ever seen on a man. Blond stubble dusted his jawline. He was even more stunning than she remembered. She opened her mouth, blowing her curls out of her eyes, ready to give him a piece of her mind but he turned away, dismissing her.

“Taylor!” he called over the music. “Maybe get your friend some water, she’s so wasted she can’t even sit on her stool without falling off!” He turned back to her. “Go easy on the alcohol next time, darlin’,” he patronized. He might as well have chucked her under the chin. A red mist descended over Christy and she knew she was about to detonate. He’d sent her from happy to rage-filled in ten seconds. He turned back to Justine, leaving Christy spluttering indignantly.

“Now come on, Dean, you remember Christy, don’t you?” Justine said, putting her hand on Dean’s arm and turning him back towards Christy. He frowned as he looked down at Christy, his eyes drifting over her lazily from head to toe before meeting hers again. He shook his head. “Nope, can’t place her.”

Not that she thought it was possible, but her rage ratcheted up a notch, embarrassment now joining the party. She felt her cheeks burn; how could he not remember me? Dean peered down at her again, “Maybe you should go and splash some cold water on your face, you don’t look so good.”

Arrogant. Asshole. She opened her mouth to unleash on him, then she spotted the wicked glint in those sharp eyes. That was exactly what he wanted. Her eyes narrowed and steel fused her spine. If that’s what he wanted, she sure as hell wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. She spun on her heel and stomped off towards the restrooms, muttering to herself the whole way.

“Nice to meet you, Kirsten!” he called after her. Without stopping, she raised her hand and flipped him off.

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