Don’t look down at her tits. Don’t look down at her tits,I tell myself. Then I look down at her tits anyway, small but perfect, pushed up by her dress.
I jerk my eyes away as soon as I realize that I’m doing it. Fucking hell. The last thing I need is for Emma to think that I’m a fucking pervert.
I make eye contact with her, and hesitate. There are plenty of pickup lines that float to the surface, but I ignore them.
“What kind of liquor do you want?” I ask, turning and picking up a metal cocktail shaker.
“Mmm…” she says, twisting a loop of her dark hair around a finger. “Vodka? I want something that doesn’t taste like alcohol.”
I make a noise of displeasure. Emma cocks her head at me.
“You asked what I wanted!” she says. “I want something sweet.”
I shake my head and grab the vodka, pouring it in the cocktail shaker. “You like lemonade?”
“Who doesn’t?” she asks.
I mix freshly squeezed lemon juice and a little homemade simple syrup into the tin, add a handful of ice cubes, then shake it. I pour it all into a highball glass, then top it off with a drizzle of fresh raspberry puree. I stick a straw in it, pulling a little of the concoction into the straw, and then pull the straw out for a taste.
Lemon and sugar hit my palate long before the vodka does. I wrinkle my nose at the sweetness. Perfect for her, though. When I serve it to her with a new straw, her eyes light up.
“Ooooh,” she says. “It’s pretty.”
“Yup,” I say, setting about washing my shaker out.
Emma sips the cocktail, her elbows on the bar. “This is amazing! What do you call it?”
I eye her. “The schoolgirl special,” I reply dryly.
She blushes, her cheeks turning a shade darker than her pink dress. “You’re the actual worst.”
That makes me grin. “You’d do best to remember that.”
I wink at her, and she rolls her eyes. “Thanks for the drink.”
She picks up her cocktail and walks away, hips swaying. I watch her walk away for a few seconds, my mouth a little dry.
“Seriously?” my brother Forest says, coming up beside me behind the bar. Forest is the middle brother. He’s as dressed up as I am dressed down, wearing dark slacks and a white button up. His dark hair is clipped close to his scalp, not almost-too-long and messy like mine is.
I yank my gaze away from her, glancing down at my black t-shirt and black jeans instead. Forest isn’t done, though. “There are so many hot girls here, and you’re staring at Emma? What is wrong with you?”
He’s not wrong. At thirty three, I should definitely not be looking at someone almost a decade younger than me. I clear my throat and shake my head.
“Because I’m a dirty old man. Speaking of people who are too young for us, where’s Addison tonight?” I ask, changing the subject.
He frowns and turns a little, pointing out his fiancee to me. A very thin redhead in a red silk dress, she’s in a little group of women standing by the front door.
“Right there. And she’s not too young for me. She’s very mature for her age.” He reaches into the lowboy coolers under the bar and gets a beer, popping the cap off.
“Uh huh,” I say. I lean back against the bar. “I seem to remember being invited to her twenty first birthday party last month.”
“Fuck off,” Forest says, pulling a face. He takes a sip of his beer. “You’re just jealous.”
“Of Addison? She’s so controlling, dude. That’s your thing, not mine.”
Now he really glares at me. “Again, fuck off. Also, Asher asked me to remind you to keep everybody hydrated. Nobody wants to see Jenna toss her cookies during the wedding procession tomorrow.”
I glance over at Jenna, and see her pantomiming something that looks an awful lot like sucking a huge dick. Everyone around her laughs, and she knocks back another glass of pink bubbles.