Love Her or Lose Her (Hot & Hammered #2) - Tessa Bailey Page 0,75
be getting chased yourself.”
“By who?”
Kristin worked her neck like a strutting pigeon. “You know who.”
“Uh-oh,” Rosie muttered, fishing the bottle of vodka out of the ice and beginning to pour drinks for everyone. “At least let her get a buzz before bringing up Wes.”
“Wes?” Bethany uncrossed her legs and doubled over, laughing loud enough to draw attention from the surrounding patrons. “You can’t be serious. You think Wes is going to chase me? If he tried, I would slap the ego out of him with both hands.”
Georgie raised an eyebrow. “You’ve given this some thought.”
“I’ve given him no thought. None whatsoever.”
“Now, Bethany,” Kristin said slowly. “There were enough sparks shooting between the two of you the other night to start a fire. Don’t piddle on my leg and tell me it’s raining.”
Bethany’s mouth fell open and then snapped shut. “Maybe that kind of antagonism between a man and woman is normal for you, Kristin, seeing as how you terrorize my brother for sport. But it’s not normal. Me and Wes actually dislike each other.”
“Antagonism is fun. Makes him work harder between the sheets.” Kristin ignored the groans from everyone, throwing an elbow at Georgie. “You and Travis had your fair share of spats and it only made him work harder to earn your favor. Tell me I’m wrong.”
Georgie’s drink remained suspended in the air for several beats. “Oh God, she’s right.”
Rosie could sense Bethany staring at her profile. “Rosie, lend some much-needed sanity to this conversation. You don’t actually think Wes and I . . .” She trailed off with a shudder. “You can’t actually believe there’s something there. Do you?”
“Um . . .” Rosie pursed her lips and pretended to consider the question. “I mean . . .”
Bethany gasped.
“Hear me out,” Rosie rushed to say, laying a hand on her friend’s forearm. “You know your own mind and how you feel toward Wes. But. Well, I think if you do decide to enter into a long-term relationship with someone, he needs to be a certain way. Strong. Capable of . . .”
“Putting up with my shit?”
“That’s not what I was going to say.”
“Yes, it is,” Georgie piped in, sucking down half her drink with relish. “Oh my God, this is already shaping up to be an amazing night.”
Bethany wrinkled her nose at her sister. “You’re all dead wrong on this one. Sorry.” She shook around the ice cubes in her tumbler. “I’ll admit there might be a certain unfortunate sexual . . .”
“Synergy,” Georgie supplied.
“Ooh!” Kristin danced in her seat. “Magnetism.”
Rosie tilted her head. “Connection?”
“Scourge.” Bethany pushed her fall of blond hair back over her shoulder. “It’s an affliction. An annoyance.”
“Only one way to get rid of it,” Kristin singsonged.
Bethany smiled sweetly. “Drop it or I’ll tell Stephen you’re pregnant.”
Georgie did a spit take. “What?”
Rosie covered her mouth with both hands and tried not to laugh.
“How did you know?” Kristin gasped, hands flying to her stomach to feel around. “I’m not even showing yet.”
“The level of your drink never goes down. You’re just pretending to sip.” Bethany shook her head. “How are you planning on using this to make my brother insane?”
“I’m not revealing my secrets.” Kristin huffed for a few seconds. “You’re really taking the wind out of my sails here. Is a surprise pregnancy-announcement-slash-gender-reveal soiree with a Venetian theme really so much to ask?”
“Yes,” Bethany and Georgie said at the same time.
Rosie needed to get out of there before she burst into a fit of laughter. “I’ll go to the bar and get you a ginger ale, Kristin,” she said. “We’re all going to keep your secret, aren’t we?”
“Yes,” the sisters grumbled.
A moment later, Rosie breezed back into the even busier club, the dark, anticipatory vibe swallowing her whole. Since being seated outside, the music had grown louder, the lights dimming even more. The bar was packed with people trying to get the attention of the bartenders, but she didn’t mind waiting and soaking up the atmosphere. The later hour had turned people more amorous. There wasn’t a hint of air between the dancing couples. As Rosie watched, a man’s hand slid down his dance partner’s back and massaged her bottom, making the woman’s mouth open against his neck. Rosie could almost hear the heavy breathing, the groaning, the whisper of clothing rasping together.
As she got closer to an open space at the bar, Rosie’s pulse rippled in time with the bass. Heat slithered around in her belly and pressed her thighs together. Dominic would know what