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I shrug. “Sure, why not?”
Aubrey glances at me, then looks away.
“Aubrey?” Lauren asks.
She lifts one shoulder and lets it drop. “Yeah. I could do that.”
Jeez. Don’t blow me away with your enthusiasm.
I leave the room, wondering if she would’ve been more eager to go if I had told them I wasn’t interested.
Just how much does she loathe me this soon after clinging to me in a moment of passion?
And when will I ever learn and remember that no woman can be trusted with my affection?
Not anytime soon.
Chapter 19
Aubrey
After the tension in the bed-and-breakfast, I would’ve jumped at any chance to get out of there. It’s not working in my favor that Caleb also invited Dalton to go out to Breck for a night of fun. The usually quiet man I slept with, the “just a hookup,” is the one person and source of tension I’m so eager to have distance from. Even though the four of us are heading to the same bar, that doesn’t mean I have to spend time with him alone. Being alone with Dalton clearly isn’t wise.
Instead, I enter the bustling and surprisingly busy bar with a different goal: to hang out with Lauren. It’s been a long time since my best friend and I could go out and simply enjoy ourselves. When we were in college, I was mired with the need to maintain good grades for scholarships. Then after graduation, I was even busier with limited free time because of my jobs. Lauren hasn’t been available lately either. Jeremy was a possessive man, and between him and her controlling parents, her time was monopolized with what they felt she needed to be doing.
It’ll be fun to drink and dance with her, and as we kick off the night with the first rounds of beers, I smile at her and clink my glass to hers. “Like old times,” I say, hoping she’s onboard with letting loose with me.
“Old times,” she agrees with a wide smile. Then she turns to Caleb and her grin grows more. “And new.”
A pang of hurt hits me as she kisses him. Over her shoulder, I spot Dalton watching them with that same sense of dejection. He has to be wanting what they have too, and he already lost it with this ex of his who cheated on him. Me? I’ve never come close to having a relationship like she has with Caleb, and seeing her making the relative connection to him, that she’s not as stuck in the past I am as a single woman, sucks.
“Come on!” She grabs my hand, though, and hands her beer to Caleb as a song comes on louder over the speakers. If I want to think about “old generation” tunes, this decades-old hit will do the trick. As I follow my friend out to the slightly crowded dance area, traces of jealousy and pain fade away. Excitement replaces my negative thoughts, and with the beat of the music—which has way more inappropriate and sexual meaning in its lyrics than I realized it did when we were in college—I let myself stop thinking and worrying and stressing. I just dance. The music urges me to move and butcher the words with my best friend. One song turns to another, and another, and with our propensity for being clumsy and goofy, we laugh more often than we pull off any real “moves.” Caleb reappears with our drinks. He’s been watching them for us. I appreciate the reminder to drink up, but I’m gladder that he lets us have our girl time. Maybe he can tell that we need it. It looks like Lauren has found a guy who can take a hint that she’s happy and doesn’t need to be right at his side all the time. On the last occasion I had to drink and dance with Lauren, Jeremy stood right there, never letting her out of reach. He stood there like a stick in the mud and made it so unfun that we gave up and left the bar early.
Now, though, I see how well Lauren has done for herself in finding Caleb. He’s not pushy. He’s loving. He’s respectful of her wishes. And as the song segues into a slower, more romantic one, I realize Lauren wants a break from partying hard with me. She turns into his arms and smiles as he whispers into her ear.
“Okay then,” I mutter to myself as I exit the dance floor. I’ll give them a minute.
I head back toward the bar, eager to get another drink anyway. It’s been a while since I danced like that, and I’m thirsty for not only another alcoholic beverage but also a water. May as well hydrate with the booze.
I wait for my drink and scan the hopping, now-packed bar. Men and women fill the space, either drinking, mingling, or dancing, and with the increase of people, I realize how far I’ve managed to shove Dalton from my mind.
Very far. So far, in fact, that he’s found his way into the arms of a tall blonde. Out of the corner of my eye, I witness them standing there near the restroom doors. She’s not short like me, who needs to peer up at him when speaking. Instead, she’s almost eye-level, leaning her svelte body toward his with a practiced and honeyed smile.
“Huh.” I snort and accept my drink. The bartender forgot my water, but I don’t want to linger here and wait for it. Jealousy hits me hard as I watch the woman giggle at whatever Dalton said. He’s clearly flirting with her to warrant that reaction, and when she lays her hand on his chest and leans in again, I grit my teeth at how quickly he’s moved on.
Why wouldn’t he, though?
He made it clear that I’m nothing but a hookup. That I was “fun.” While he lamely said he would like to hook up again, it seems he was being general. Right now, it looks like he’s excited to hook up with anyone, not just me. And that hurts. I can’t define what I feel for him. I have no business picking at this pull I feel for him when so little is figured out in my life. Yet, I want him. I really do, and it looks like he’s already moving on from anything he might have felt for me.
I turn quickly, worried Dalton might feel the burn of my stare on him. The last thing I need is to be caught red-handed spying on him. My elbow prevents me from fully spinning in the other direction and giving Dalton my back though. I’ve bumped into someone with my haste, and I gasp as some beer sloshes over the rim of the glass.
“Oh! I’m so sorry.”
“Whoa,” the man says in equal alarm. His tone holds more humor, though, and I look up to see I’ve nearly plowed over the tall, hulking form of Hayes. He grins at me, holding my other elbow to steady me. “In a hurry?” he teases.
A hurry? I swallow as the warmth of alcohol chases through me. He’s looking at me with serious intention. Unlike Dalton who’s too busy letting some stranger paw all over him and giggle nonstop. I know this contractor is interested in me, but in the same bar and between both of them, it seems Hayes is the only one who remembers his interest. Dalton is oblivious that I’m even here.
Hayes releases my arm, but not before dragging his finger toward my wrist. “Speechless, too?” he jokes.
