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Back in the dim haze of the bar, the thumping bassline seems to mock me, its heavy rhythm pounding in time with the throbbing between my legs. I spot Daisy and the rest of the bridesmaids still dancing and laughing, completely oblivious to my momentary lapse in judgment.
Pushing the lingering thoughts of Stylz from my mind, I order another drink—a double, because at this point some extra liquid courage is sorely needed. I down it quickly, savoring the slow burn.
With a steadying breath, I plaster on a smile and rejoin the party, pulling Daisy into a tight hug. As we sway and laugh together on the dance floor, the lingering guilt starts to dissipate, replaced by the thrill of having indulged a long-suppressed side of myself.
Maybe being reckless isn't so bad every once in a while. Maybe I needed this reminder that I'm more than just my career, more than just the polished image I present to the world.
As the night wears on, I find myself loosening up more and more. And if my gaze occasionally wanders back to that bathroom door, lingering on the possibility of what could have been...
Well, that can be my dirty little secret.
Chapter 2
Stylz
The hardwood floor creaks under my boots as I stroll into the dance studio's lobby, Wyatt right beside me. Plush burgundy couches line one wall, while the other is all mirrors.
"Remind me again why we're doing this?" I ask, shrugging off my flannel overshirt and tossing it onto one of the couches.
"Because my girl wants to have the perfect first dance," he says, rolling up the sleeves of his henley. "And since I've got two left feet, she insisted on one last lesson before the big day."
“I know why you’re doing it,” I tell him, sitting in one of the armchairs. “But why am I doing it?”
Wyatt sits across from me and checks his watch. “You’re my moral support and a dance partner for her sister. As the best man, it comes with the territory.”
I scoff, but there's no real heat behind it. Wyatt's been my closest friend since we were kids running wild in these very mountains. He knows I’d do anything for him. Speaking of which…
He leans forward, elbows on his knees. "I'm guessing everything went well last night at the party?"
An image flashes through my mind—fiery dark eyes, soft curves pressed against cool tile, the tantalizing taste of her desire on my tongue. My lips quirk into a half-smirk. "You could say that."
Wyatt arches a thick brow, clearly waiting for me to elaborate. But I'm not one to kiss and tell, especially when I was there at his behest to keep an eye on his fiancee and her wedding party. The irony isn't lost on me—I was supposed to be the responsible one, not one of the assholes I was meant to keep away.
Yet she was irresistible. That smoldering gaze, those curves... I couldn't fight the pull if I tried.
"Nothing to worry about," I finally say, keeping it vague.
Wyatt studies me for a moment, then nods. "Good. I appreciate you looking out for her."
"No problem," I reply.
Before the conversation can continue, the studio door swings open, and Daisy strides in, all smiles and sunshine as usual. But it's the woman trailing behind her who catches my attention.
It's her—my bathroom bombshell, looking just as polished and put together, not a single dark curl out of place. Those chocolate-brown eyes meet mine, and I can see the recognition flash across her face.
Well, well... Isn't this an interesting turn of events?
Seeing them together now, I don't know how I didn't realize it last night. The sexy, feisty stranger I hooked up with last night is none other than Daisy's sister.
Delilah.
"Hey, guys!" Daisy chirps, completely oblivious to the sudden tension crackling between her sister and me. "Sorry we're late."
Wyatt pulls her in for a quick kiss. "No worries, babe. We were just catching up."
"Stylz, this is my sister, Delilah." Daisy gestures between us. "I don't think you two have actually met yet."
Delilah's gaze meets mine again, her expression coolly detached. "Nice to meet you," she says evenly, offering her hand.
