Dirty Sexy Alphas (Twenty Book Box Set) - Hannah Ford Page 0,51

His cologne washed over me, a stark contrast to Landon’s. It was fresh and piney, so different form the deeper, woodsy scents Landon preferred. “I need a picture, because she won’t believe I’m forsaking my hermit ways.”

I laughed, leaning against him, holding my drink up and smiling into the camera.

The photo turned out cute, with the dim green glow of the portico and the coconuts making it look like we were on a beach somewhere tropical.

“That’s cute. Send it to me,” I said. I’d use it as evidence to Annie I wasn’t sitting around moping over Landon the whole time.

“What’s your number?” he asked.

I rattled it off, watching as he punched he digits into his phone. I couldn’t miss the glances the other three exchanged, and I tried not to blush. I wasn’t giving him my number so we could go out, or something. I’d be working with him for the next six weeks. If he was actually going to spare me from a long, miserably hot bus ride every day, we’d need to swap numbers.

My phone chirped, and I pulled it out of my pocket, expecting to see the photo on screen. But it wasn’t the only notification on my screen Above the picture from Ben, was a text from Landon.

My heart galloped to life.

Where are you? He asked.

There were so many things I wanted to respond with. Far from your wife was one. Or Screw you, as an alternative.

I settled on, Leave me alone. I went to Dallas for the internship.

I set my phone back on the table, taking a sip from the coconut when his reply lit up my screen.

I need to talk to you.

The time for talking was done. He was married, and I was thousands of miles away. Sorry, busy.

I’d barely hit send when his response came in. Make time for me, it said.

I’m out with friends. Without giving it a second thought, I sent him the photo. Proof that he wasn’t the only one that had a life. He could think whatever he wanted about me and Ben. He was married, and I didn’t belong to him.

I turned my phone on silent and shoved it into my purse. I wasn’t going to let him ruin this for me. There was no Landon and me, not when he was married to picture-perfect Alexa.

“Something wrong?”

I took a long sip from the coconut to buy myself time. “Just an ex.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” I said, all but draining my drink. “We left things in kind of a rough spot.”

He reached over, resting his hand on my knee. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” I said, giving him a warm smile. “I just want to forget about him, you know?”

“I think that can be arranged,” he said, motioning the waitress over and ordering two shots of Tequila.

“Anything for you?” the waitress asked, turning to the other three at the table. Amy yawned. “Nah, I think I’m taking off. Still having trouble adjusting to the time zone change.”

“And you’re our ride,” Paul said, “So I guess that’s it for us too.”

Moments later it was just Ben, me, and two shots of Tequila.

“Cheers,” he said, holding up the glass and clicking it against mine.

The tequila burned on its way down, but after a bit into the lime, the after taste melted away.

“I haven’t had tequila since I was at UW,” I said, and then froze.

“I thought you were still a student?” Ben asked.

Oops. Alcohol had clearly loosened up my lips. I glanced away, taking in the clusters of tables under the thatched-roof. In the corner, the band switched songs.

“That’s a cute dance floor,” I said, pointing. “They’ll be starting a conga line any moment now.”

“We should dance,” he replied instantly.

I wasn’t sure.

Our gazes locked. His eyes were so different from Landon’s, so much brighter. Like he hadn’t dealt with a rough childhood, left a string of bad decisions in his wake. And maybe for a different girl, she would find his boyish enthusiasm and optimism exciting and even sexy.

But for me, his simple friendliness was merely a reminder of the heat and intensity that I had with Landon. A heat that I knew was irreplaceable.

Still, a little dancing with a friendly guy couldn’t hurt. Anything to forget the person I’d left behind.

“Sure,” I said, shrugging.

He grabbed my hand, and we wove through the tables, toward the open dance floor. A half-dozen couples danced on a parquet floor, something vaguely resembling a salsa.

“Oh,” I said, rethinking this idea. “I don’t actually know how to Salsa.”

“I’ll lead,” he