Secret Plunge - Jasmin Miller

One

Harper

"To bad decisions and amazing sex." Tara’s words are thankfully swallowed up by the bar noise around us.

Somewhat, at least.

My best friend clinks glasses with me, and I shake my head at her. "Hey, I never agreed to having sex."

Her brown curls cover her face momentarily as she grimaces. I’m not sure if it’s in response to my statement or because of the tequila she just downed.

After slamming the shot glass on the sticky bar table, she points her finger at me. "Harp, I want you to have some fun. You had the absolute shittiest year, and your divorce was finalized last month. At last. And . . . right on time to start fresh in the new year. You deserve to let off some steam, probably more than most people here."

I highly doubt her last statement, but I don’t care enough to argue. If the shouting, laughing, and general chatting around us is any indication, most people seem to be having a great time. Some have gone to the next level, trying to suck off someone else’s face, or actually . . . I think some of that would be considered dry-humping.

Each to their own, I suppose.

I had planned on spending New Year’s Eve on the couch with my mom’s cat, Bacon, some takeout, and then possibly going to bed before midnight. Yes, before midnight. How sad is my life?

As usual, Tara was impossible to say no to. She’s moving to England next week, so for all we know, this will be our last New Year’s together for a while. She milked that cow for all it was worth, and before I knew it, I’d squeezed myself into a little black dress she threw my way before doing my hair and makeup.

I shouldn’t complain. The dress makes it look like I’ve got a nice rack, so there’s that. My legs look amazing too, which is always a plus.

Maybe I should ring in the new year with a bang. After all the blunders last year, why shouldn’t I start with something good? Or rather someone good. If I can find someone suitable. I definitely wouldn’t go home with just anyone. Absolutely not.

A hiss escapes Tara's mouth as she looks over my shoulder, her red-painted lips whistling softly. "I think my bad decision just walked in the door."

Curiosity tickles my nerve endings. Tara’s still staring, half hidden behind me, so I slowly turn around. I don’t want to be too obvious, after all.

I know immediately who she’s talking about because, holy hotness.

“Oh, wow.”

Talk about tall, dark, and handsome.

“Right?” Tara leans in and rests her chin on my shoulder. “There’s hot guys, and then there’s hot guys.”

For once, I agree. It’s been a while since I’ve paid much attention to guys. Of course, I still noticed handsome guys while I was married, but I haven’t openly stared at anyone since I met Ben in high school.

“Oh crap, they’re coming over.” Tara turns around so quickly, she almost knocks me off my bar stool.

“What happened to bad decisions and amazing sex?” I chuckle, enjoying the slight horror on her face as the two guys walk by us on their way to the bar.

“I’m going to kill you if they heard that.” She brushes her fingers over her forehead before fluffing her gorgeous brown locks. “How do I look?”

I push out an exasperated puff of air and roll my eyes. Tara is stunning. “Gorgeous as always.”

She cocks her head to the side, her face suddenly serious. “This isn’t a bad bad decision, right?”

“You know I’ve never had a one-night stand, so I have no clue how these things work.” My gaze flickers over her shoulder this time, zoning in on the two guys.

They both look well over six feet, and from what I’m able to tell in the dimmed light, ridiculously good-looking. Definitely older than us. Well built. They laugh about something as they wait for their drinks, and goodness, there’s a flurry of something in my belly as I stare at the guy on the right.

As if he heard my thoughts, he turns and looks straight at me. The remainder of his smile is still on his face, and my mind automatically jumps into comparison mode. I know I shouldn’t do it, but I can’t help myself.

Next to my ex-husband, Ben—will the word ex ever not taste bitter on my tongue?—this guy is all man.

Ben and I are twenty-four—our young age the main reason everyone thinks our three-year marriage failed—so maybe it’s not fair