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“Fucking Jax,” I muttered, taking another swig of wine.
He was everything you’d think of in a man who’d held your attention for a decade of your formative years. Handsome, of course, with all the rippling muscles and big biceps that made me lose a few IQ points. Mysterious and quiet, with the kind of soul-searing dark eyes that always made me lose my breath a little. And no matter how hard he tried to hide it, he was kind underneath it, even if he had the conversational skills of a potato.
And most unfortunately, he was ten years older, the best friend of my brother Cameron, and had never given me asinglelingering look. Not even a little baby one that could be misconstrued as one. There was no lingering. Ever. Honestly, he kept his distance so thoroughly that sometimes I questioned my own intelligence that I couldn’t quite shove him out of my mind.
And why, on nights like this, when I’d threatened violence and got left with a massive bill at the nicest restaurant in the neighboring town of Redmond, I kinda just wanted to get drunk and wish for the day that I’d stop comparing every man to him.
It wasn’t fair.
Maybe if he’d been a dick to me, it would be easier. But he wasn’t.
Angrily, I took another drink. A big one, too. More wine was definitely the answer to this problem.
But problems had solutions, right?
Tapping my fingers on the glass bottle, I tried to think of what that solution might be. There had to be a way to purge one stupid man from my head. I wasn’t silly enough to think I was truly in love with him after all these years of nothing from him, but I couldn’t quite rip the hold he had on my head away either.
What better way to do that than just confront him. The racing of my heart was the first indication I was on the right track because I was not the confrontational Wilder in the family. I was the cheerful youngest sister; I was the optimist. The one who listened and encouraged. But never once had I stood face-to-face with Jax and asked himwhy. Or why not, I guess.
Why not me?
He wasn’t married. Wasn’t in a relationship. Hell, he’d never been in a serious relationship.
I was nice. People liked me. And I was attractive, in that girl next door kinda way. No, men didn’t usually trip over themselves when I walked into the room, but son of a bitch, I was a fuckingcatch. And I wasn’t a kid anymore.
Before I could talk myself out of it, I was off the couch, slamming back another drink of wine and yanking out my phone to pull up the rideshare app. With vicious taps of my thumbs, the address was in, and I submitted my request with the smug-ass grin of a drunk girl who was feeling a little too feisty for her own good after putting planet-ego man in his place.
And to my luck, Patrice was the one driving.
“Where’re we headed tonight, honey?”
I toppled into the back seat and yanked the door shut when a gust of wind lifted my floaty skirt up. “Jax fucking Cartwright’s house,” I said. Her eyebrows popped up, but shedidn’t say anything, verifying the address I’d entered into the app. “He doesn’t know I’m coming, so I’m sure he’ll be thrilled. He’s ignored me forages,” I said, only the teeny tiniest slur to my voice.
“Ignored a pretty girl like you?” She clucked her tongue. “He married?”
“He’s painfully and perpetually single, which almost makes it worse. He won’t even sleep with women from town so he doesn’t risk seeing them again.”
Patrice whistled. “I had a husband like that once. It’s kinda fun to be the one to have them coming back for more.”
“I don’t have Jax coming back for anything. First or seconds.” Slumping in the back seat of the car, I fiddled with the hem of my skirt. “And I just don’t understand why. I’ve never straight out asked him to go out with me, and the only thing I can think of is that he’s afraid of my brother.”
“You got a protective one?” she asked.
I blew out a short laugh. “I have four brothers who are varying degrees of protective and two sisters. One of those sisters is the most terrifying of all my siblings, and they’d all admit it too. But yes, Jax is my brother Cameron’s best friend.” My tone turned glum. “They’re older than me by, like, ten years. I think that’s why he always blew me off. But how can Iknowif I don’t ask him, right?”
“Ten years ain’t nothing,” Patrice said with an encouraging smile. “My second husband was twenty years older than me.”
“Twenty?” I whistled. “Damn, Patrice.”
She chuckled, a low, throaty sound. “He croaked after a few years, and I got a nice little house out of the deal. He wasn’t so bad. Not my favorite, though.” Her eyes glinted in the dark interior of the car. “Husband three is my favorite. He’s the best in bed and always lets me do whatever I want.”
My cheeks heated.
“You know there’s an ice storm rolling into tonight, yeah?”she asked, eyeing me warily through the rearview mirror. Rain started hitting the windshield in big, fat strikes. Suddenly, the sight of them looked very ominous.
It was a very good thing I wasn’t sober, because man, this shit might make me turn back around.
“Huh,” I said, only the slightest wobble to my voice. “Is there?”
