My Cone and Only (King Family #1) - Susannah Nix Page 0,2
understood why people bothered with makeup. If I was going to go out dancing and get all sweaty, I’d rather not have to worry about shit dripping down my face. How did that look any better than your actual, natural skin? Since my job at the state park involved a lot of tramping around outdoors in the woods, makeup seemed like a colossal waste of time and money.
The subtle scent of Wyatt’s cologne greeted me a second before he did, and I felt my stomach tighten.
“Hey you.” He gave my ponytail a tug before draping one of his tattooed arms around my shoulders.
“Hey you,” I said back, smiling as I looked into his familiar blue eyes.
As an avid collector of trivia, I knew that blue eyes weren’t actually blue. They had no pigment at all, and their blue appearance was merely a trick of physics—a result of scattering light similar to the effect that made the sky and water look blue. That meant Wyatt’s eyes had no set color, and their appearance depended entirely on the available light wherever you happened to be looking at them. Tonight, for instance, against his midnight blue shirt, under the lights of the dance hall, his eyes were a brilliant azure, like the ocean on a painfully clear day.
He pulled me into a crushing hug, his arms encircling my rib cage and squeezing hard enough to drive the air from my lungs. I closed my eyes as I pressed my face into his chest, savoring the sensation while it lasted. Which was never long enough.
Letting go of me, he turned to greet the other women at the table. “Evening, ladies.” His azure eyes twinkled, and his mouth tilted in a sultry smirk as his gaze traveled over all three of my friends. “How’s everybody doing?”
“Great!” Kaylee chirped, blinking rapidly. I couldn’t tell if she was trying to bat her eyelashes or if it was more of a deer-in-the-headlights situation.
“Better now.” Megan smiled brightly as she sidled closer to Wyatt, close enough that their shoulders brushed. “Where’s my hug?”
“Right here.” Wyatt grinned as he leaned in to embrace her. It wasn’t as vigorous a hug as he’d given me. Instead, he stroked his hands up Megan’s back in an almost sensual caress as he turned his head to nuzzle into her hair. I heard him whisper something I couldn’t make out over the music playing over the speakers, and Megan let out a peal of laughter.
Wyatt went around the whole table like that, passing out hugs and flirtatious comments calculated to make every recipient feel special. That was his gift—his ability to turn his charm on you and make you believe for one magical moment that you were the most important girl in the room. Even when you’d just watched him turn the exact same charm on every other woman in the room before you.
They all ought to know better than to fall for it. Wyatt had the attention span of a gnat when it came to women. Actually, scratch that. Gnats were persistent as hell—unlike Wyatt. No woman had ever managed to hold on to him for longer than a few weeks, and most didn’t even rate more than one night.
Yet here we all were, putty in his hands anyway.
As I watched Wyatt brush Kaylee’s carefully placed hair off her shoulder, I scowled and downed another mouthful of beer to chase away the bitterness in my throat. My friends were so busy envying my friendship with Wyatt that they’d probably never considered I might envy them.
At least they had a fighting chance. I would never be anything to him but his best friend’s tomboy little sister. Fun enough to hang out with, but forever beneath his romantic notice. I didn’t get sensual back caresses, hair nuzzles, or sweet nothings whispered in my ear. I got the same hearty hugs Wyatt gave my mom, who’d practically helped raise him, and my aunt Birdie, who’d been his preschool teacher. I probably ought to be honored by that, but it was hard when I’d been yearning to feel Wyatt’s lips on mine since I was old enough to understand what kissing was.
Wyatt continued to chat up our table as we waited for the band to take the stage. He had his arms around Rain and Kaylee, casually holding them both against his sides, but his eyes kept jumping to Megan with a heated sparkle I’d seen too often to count. If I was a betting woman, I’d