Page 43 of The Trouble with Flings

“You won’t win this one,” Mia says, unaware that Reggie has stepped behind her.

“You should probably find someone else to hit on,” I suggest.

The guy who’s hitting on Mia eyes her, clearly considering pushing it.

“I believe the ladies asked you to move on,” Reggie says authoritatively.

The guy straightens his spine and sizes up Reggie. Reggie meets his gaze head-on, cold and unwavering. The guy mutters something under his breath and disappears into the crowd.

Mia sighs, shaking her head. “I had that handled.”

“I know,” Reggie says. “I was saving the poor guy from being eviscerated by you.”

He’s looking at her the way Fitz looks at me, like she’s something he wants to cherish, protect, and fuck six ways to Sunday.

That longing tiptoes through me again, but I lock it down, irritated with myself for getting mixed up with Fitz in Costa Rica, when I knew the effect he had on me after one night on Silver Island.

I tip my glass toward Reggie. “Took you long enough. I was starting to think you enjoyed watching her suffer.”

“I was giving her space,” Reggie says evenly.

“Mm-hm,” I say.

“I appreciate that space,” Mia says, giving me a back-off stare, when she knows damn well I won’t. “Reggie, who was the guy in the leather jacket you were talking to earlier?”

“Nobody you need to meet,” Reggie says without missing a beat.

I arch a brow. “Sorry, Reg, but friend zones don’t include veto power.”

His gaze shifts to me, as serious and unyielding as it was a moment ago toward the guy who was hitting on Mia.

Mia gives me another chiding glance.

“It’s a well-documented rule,” I say lightly. “It goes both ways, of course. If you want veto power, you should probably reconsider your benefits package, because right now, my gorgeous sister is free to entertain all kinds of poor decisions.”

“Jennifer,” Mia warns.

Those slate-blue eyes find Mia’s, and Reggie says, “You want to meet him?”

“I don’t know,” she says simply. “It would be nice to find someone to kiss at midnight.” She glances around the bar, and I can’t tell if she’s being serious or teasing him.

He watches her, his expression unreadable. “Is that so?”

Mia lifts one shoulder casually, but there’s nothing casual about the taunt in her eyes. “Seems like a reasonable goal on New Year’s Eve.”

There’s a fire in his eyes, a stillness to him, sheer power coiled and leashed just beneath the surface, like a panther poised to strike, and Mia is eating it up.

I turn away, giving them the moment, and my gaze drifts around the bar, taking in clusters of couples leaning into each other, laughing and drinking. I imagine what it’ll be like at midnight as champagne bottles pop, cheers ring out, and everyone else is kissing someone. My mind skips to Fitz.

Annoyed that my emotions are betraying my hard-earned pride in my independence, I stifle them before I can get swept up in thoughts of him.

My phone chimes in my hand. I forgot I was still holding it. I see Fitz’s name on the text bubble and open it. His handsome face appears on the screen, all sun-kissed skin and that easy, confident smile, with the message You could be kissing these lips at midnight.

My chest constricts, but I can’t look away.

“Earth to Jennifer,” Mia says.

I lower my phone, forcing a smile. “Yeah? Sorry.”