name was Ken. He had rich skin, a bald head, thick shoulders, and hands the size of dinner plates.
“Hi, Ken,” Ginny purred as we brushed past him and made for the doors.
He tipped his head to her. “Gin.”
I nudged Ginny in the ribs as we stepped inside and the roar of the music swept over us. “You should just ask him out one of these times!”
“I don’t make first moves,” she said. “You know that.”
Roman joined in, leaning close so we could hear him over the music. “He’s not going to ask you while he’s at work, Ginny. He’s a professional.”
Ginny shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. Tonight is about the three of us, remember?” She draped her arms over our shoulders and scanned the bar. “Where to first? Drinks or dance floor?”
Roman and I shared a look and at the same time said, “Drinks.”
Ginny made for the bar, pulling us with her.
We sidled up to the bar run by three bartenders. The place was too busy to manage with just one. All three of us ordered the cocktail special, which was a bubbly mix of soda water, cranberry juice, lime, and a dash of peach Bellini mix.
It tasted like summertime in a glass.
I twirled the pink umbrella sticking out of the top of my drink as we scanned the bar for a place to sit with our drinks. We found a booth, slid into it, and spent the next hour complaining about our least favorite hotel guests while we pounded back a few more drinks. When we had the courage to take to the dance floor, Roman took both mine and Ginny’s hand and led us out there, right under the turning disco ball and ever-changing lights.
It was exactly what I needed.
“I think I need a shot!” Roman said.
Ginny nodded enthusiastically and I told them this round was on me before I made my way through the bodies on the dance floor to the bar. I squeezed in between two bar stools and leaned over the bar top to peer down to the opposite end, where all three bartenders had congregated. I threw one hand in the air to flag them down.
One of them spotted me and came over. He met me with a grin and I asked for six tequila shots.
Go big or go home, right?
As I waited, my mind wandered to my upcoming trip to see Jackson and Hailey. I was excited for them but there was this nagging feeling in the back of my mind that it was going to be harder for me to slap on a smile and pretend like I wasn’t incredibly envious that they were pregnant.
Don’t be selfish, I told myself as I watched the bartender grab a shallow dish and fill it with six lime wedges. Just because you can’t have it doesn’t mean Jackson can’t.
There was a foul taste in the back of my throat when I paid for the shots and left with the tray balanced on one arm. I wove back through the crowd toward the dance floor.
Someone stepped in front of me.
He was tall and wearing a light blue collared shirt. The top couple buttons were popped open, exposing some of his chest.
I blinked up at him. “Peter?”
Peter grinned. “Hey! What are you doing here, Katie?”
I nodded over his shoulder. “I’m here with my friends from work. What are you doing here?”
He shrugged and ran a hand through his hair. It wasn’t slicked back tonight, not like he’d done it for our date. It hung loose and slightly wavy. It was thick and textured, like he’d been out at the beach all day, and I was overcome with the sudden impulse to run my fingers through it myself.
Down, girl.
“I thought I’d check this place out,” Peter said. “Every local I’ve run into says this is the best place to come on the weekends for a drink and to meet some people. And I thought it might be in my best interest to make some friends so I don’t always come running to you like a lost puppy looking for entertainment or company.”
I giggled. “I don’t mind if I’m the person you always come to, Peter. I don’t mind at all.”
His cheeks turned a little pink and I wanted to kiss him.
So I did.
I grabbed the front of his shirt, pulled him down to me, and planted a big one right on his lips. He stood stone still in my grasp for a minute before relaxing, stepping in close, and