had been in my most intimate place, lifted in a smile, which in turn had aforementioned intimate place clenching with need. “I wasn’t sure if you were coming.”
“I wasn’t sure if I was either, but I heard the first round’s on the house. I couldn’t pass that up,” I joked hoping he didn’t hear the shakiness in my voice.
“You just missed the group picture.”
Then my timing was perfect. Cheyenne had mentioned that would be happening and I was glad that I’d been absent. There was no need to have any photographic evidence of my pit stop in Firefly.
I was trying to come up with appropriate banter when Billy’s large palm rested on my lower back and he kissed me on the cheek. As soon as I felt his lips brush my skin, my breath caught in my throat. “Let’s get you that drink.”
As he guided me through the crowd, a phenomenon similar to when he was carrying out Cheyenne happened: people moved out of his way. My body instinctively relaxed into his touch—that is, until I heard murmurs and saw several people giving us the side-eye.
I knew that eye. I’d seen hundreds of people give it to my mother. It was the one that said, can you believe she showed up here, or can you believe she’s wearing that, or can you believe who she’s sleeping with.
It was the last accusation that really hit home for me. I felt myself stiffen as I shifted away from Billy’s touch. I’d spent my entire life doing everything I could to distance myself from those looks, and I’d be damned if the one night that I’d allowed myself to indulge in my wildest fantasies was going to send me right back to that place.
Out of my peripheral vision, I saw Billy turn to look at me as his hand fell, but I continued making my way through the crowd. A plan formed in my head as I walked. One drink. Find Cheyenne. Go back to the office. Distance myself from Billy Comfort.
“What can I get you?” Billy asked as he stepped behind the bar.
I wanted a shot, maybe even a double, to calm my nerves, but I thought I would go with something classier. “Glass of merlot.”
I watched Billy twist the corkscrew to open the bottle and I did my best not to drool over the vein that ran up his forearm as he did. It was all I could do not to reach out and touch it, or lick it. My eyes shot straight to his ass when he turned and grabbed a glass from a rack behind him. The sight had my heartbeat traveling down to my core. When he lifted the bottle to pour he glanced at me through dark, thick lashes and the brief eye contact had my entire body going up in flames.
I reminded myself that we were at a funeral reception, but that didn’t stop the tingles from spreading. It seemed my central nervous system flagged everything Billy said and did as foreplay.
Nadia was right, this was no ordinary man.
When I took the glass, I gripped the stem to avoid a finger brushing. If we touched—skin to skin—I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to hold myself accountable for my actions. After a sip, I asked, “Have you seen Cheyenne?”
His expression hardened, and he gestured with his chin.
I turned my head and saw Cash at the end of the bar where Cheyenne was sitting. They were leaning in toward each other, involved in what was clearly a deep conversation.
There was an electricity that seemed to pass as they looked into each other’s eyes, that was evident even from across the room. If the lights were turned out, I was sure that there would be visible sparks flying between them. And even more significantly, in my opinion, was the ease and familiarity in their body language with each other.
A smile spread on my face. She was obviously in good hands, which meant I didn’t have to feel any guilt for the escape that I was planning.
When I turned back to Billy and saw the daggers he was shooting their way I quickly concluded that he didn’t share my enthusiasm.
“Can you believe that?” he said under his breath.
I wasn’t sure what Billy’s issue with it was, but he clearly had one. Since I didn’t think that he was in the right frame of mind to hear my excitement at the unfolding scene, I played dumb. “What?” I asked, head