“How’d you meet?”

Such a simple question that requires a not so simple answer. “It’s sort of hard to explain.”

“He’s gorgeous, you know. And popular as hell, you little shit. You told me he was no one I knew. Everyone in town knows Drew Callahan.” Jen sips from her drink, her lips curved in a smirk. “Is he amazing in bed or what?”

Jen gets a little liquored up and she’s making all sorts of crazy statements. I don’t even know how to answer that. I’m used to girls accusing me of stealing their boyfriends, not of friends asking how my boyfriend is in bed.

“Your cheeks are red so I’m guessing the answer is unbelievable.” Jen shakes her head, a wistful expression on her face. “I miss sex.”

I’m slightly taken aback. I totally had it pegged that she and Colin were doing the nasty, as my brother so eloquently states it. “By that statement, I guess you’re not having it?”

“Nope.” Jen shakes her head. “I know what you’re thinking. I bet you assumed Colin and I are together.”

I still say nothing because yeah, I sure did think they were together.

“Well, we’re not. He’s just a friend.” She glances around, like someone’s lurking in the background and might hear us. “If I told you something, would you promise to keep it a secret?”

“Sure.” I swear I have a sign around my neck that says excellent secret keeper.

Jen leans across the table ominously and lowers her voice. “Colin was my older brother’s best friend.”

I frown. “Was?”

A pained expression crosses her face. “My brother died. In Iraq a few years ago.”

“Oh.” I reach across the table and give her hand a squeeze. “I’m so sorry.”

She shrugs, though the hurt is still in her gaze. “It was a few years ago, and everyone was completely devastated, especially Colin. Danny’s death…threw my family completely off. We all splintered apart and I ended up running away. I couldn’t go back home. There was just no way I could stay there with all that pain and misery surrounding me. So I ended up here. Working dead-end jobs, trying to keep my head above water.”

Sounded familiar. At least I’m not alone. I’m thankful for having Owen, and even my mom to a point. She’s awful but she hasn’t flat-out deserted us.

“I’m working one night a few months ago and Colin just…walks in. Like out of nowhere. Told me he’d been looking for me, he had a job lined up and a place to stay if I want it. I figured he worked for The District, you know? Was like the restaurant manager or whatever. When I realized he owned the place—that he owns multiple restaurants and he’s filthy rich, I couldn’t believe it. He’s done so much with his life.” The dreamy look on Jen’s face was unmistakable.

She’s crushing majorly on her dead brother’s best friend. I freaking knew it. I just didn’t realize they had a past connection. A really strong connection that runs deep.

“Are you in love with him?” I ask quietly.

“What? No!” Jen shakes her head, trying her best to make a quick recovery.

But I know a liar when I see one.

“He’s like family to me. Like another big brother,” she insists, her eyes locking with mine. “Don’t tell anyone, okay? I don’t want any of the girls at the restaurant to know. Plus, Colin doesn’t want anyone to know either. He doesn’t want to look like he plays favorites.”

“But you live with him. Everyone knows it.”

“He’s done this sort of thing before. Letting his employees live with him.” She shrugs. “He just wants to make sure everyone’s okay and has a roof over their head. He asked me about you, wanted to make sure you weren’t living in a shack somewhere.”

“He knows where I live.” I proceeded to tell her how he texted me, then came by my place to pick me up.

“See how nice he is? He just wanted to help you out.”

Jen’s so enamored of Colin he can do no wrong. I always wondered at his motives with me. Not that he was ever sleazy but he was certainly extra attentive. Far more attentive than any other boss I’ve ever had.

But maybe Jen was right. Maybe he looks out for those he worries about. I can’t fault him for that. He’s like a protective big brother.

“Enough talking about me. Let’s talk about you and your sexy boyfriend.” Jen grabs her glass and sips from her drink, all easy-breezy again. “I’m surprised he let you out of his sights tonight.”

“I deserve a girls’ night out, don’t you think?”

“Of course you do. So do I. So does every girl.” Jen grins when the music changes, a fast, heavy beat that has me moving in my seat again. “Did I happen to mention I know the bouncer upstairs?”

“No. Really?” I stop seat dancing. “Think he’d let me in up there?”

“As long as you promise not to order anything from the bar, I bet I could convince him.” Jen laughs when I clap my hands in excitement. “I didn’t figure you for a dancer, Fable.”

“I love to dance.” I just rarely do. When do I have time to go out clubbing? Oh, and who with? “I work a lot so I don’t get out much.”

“Well, let me work my magic and get you in there. This should be fun.” Jen whips her phone out of her pocket and starts texting, presumably the bouncer upstairs. I glance around the room, waiting anxiously for Jen to figure out a plan. She’s so nice, so easygoing and fun. I’m so glad I agreed to go out with her tonight. I needed this. Needed a taste of freedom, a taste of friendship.

Noticing Jen’s still tapping away at her keyboard, I pull my phone out and send off a quick text to Drew. He replies within seconds.

Having fun?

As much as I can without you here, I reply. Which is sort of the truth. All of a sudden, I miss him.

Give me a break.

I smile as I type a question.

Do you like to dance?

Not really.

I laugh softly. I’m not surprised. He is so not the dancing type.

“The bouncer can get us in,” Jen says, breaking through my Drew-induced mental fog.

I glance up from my phone with a grin. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope. But we need to get up there now, before the floor fills up and they start turning people away.” Jen tilts her head toward my hand, where I’m clutching my phone. “Texting hunkalicious?”

Why does everyone call Drew nicknames? Owen and Lover Boy. Jen and Hunkalicious. I should call him something like Drew Bear or Drew-bee. Something silly and dumb and just for me. He’d probably die of mortification if I tried.

“Maybe,” I say with a shrug.

She smiles. “You should have him come pick you up.”

“But what about you?”

Jen shrugs. “I’m going to swing by the restaurant before I go home. Colin just messaged me and asked me if I would.”

Ah, I get it. Colin snaps his fingers and Jen comes running. I can sort of relate.

Focusing all my attention on my phone again, I type out a quick message to my hunkalicious boyfriend.

You should come and watch me dance.

Where are you?

I tell him, ending it with, want me to tell you what I’m wearing so you can find me?

Baby, I could find you anywhere is his immediate reply.

Smiling so hard my cheeks hurt, I tuck my phone into the front pocket of my jeans and smile at Jen. “Let’s go upstairs.”

Chapter Sixteen

The real lover is the man who can thrill you by kissing your forehead or smiling into your eyes or just staring into space. – Marilyn Monroe

Fable

The room is small and dark, jam-packed with people. I can hardly move, it’s so crowded, but I don’t care. I’ve got my arms above my head and my hands in the air, the lights that hang over us flashing in time to the beat of the music. I’m dancing my ass off, my hair sweaty, my legs aching.

Such a great night, I’m overwhelmed with how much fun I’m having. I feel f**king fantastic.

Jen is dancing with me and she’s surprisingly good, full of an innate rhythm that encourages me to step up my game. A group of guys crowded around us earlier, trying to get us to dance with them, but we turned into each other, like we were on some sort of date. I wanted to discourage them and she did too, so thankfully we were on the same page.

We danced together, bumping and grinding against each other a little bit because she’s buzzed and so am I, though not on alcohol. For once in my life, everything feels right on track. Like nothing is standing in my way.

I’ve turned into a total cliché again. But this time I’m a positive one. I might start singing cheesy eighties anthems because I feel like nothing’s gonna stop me now and all that crap.

The guys step back and form a semicircle around Jen and me as we dance, hooting and hollering and generally acting like perverts. We encourage them, swaying our hips, thrusting out our chests. I’m not even dressed that sexily. I went for casual with my jeans and a cute plaid shirt I found on clearance at Target, leaving it open with a white tank underneath.

Casually cute, I guess, because who am I trying to impress? Originally, my guy isn’t supposed to be here.

He still isn’t.

Another song comes on, this one slow, and everyone on the floor seems to vacate all at once. Jen and I send each other a silent message and we exit the dance floor as well, heading toward the bar. Jen scoots her skinny ass in between a crowd of people and somehow garners the bartender’s immediate attention, ordering us both a glass of ice water.

When she finally hands me the drink I chug it, the cold water soothing my parched throat. The lights have gone completely dim as a few couples slow dance together, most of them hardly moving, their feet shuffling as they focus on groping each other instead.

I’m thankful for the break but I also miss Drew. Seeing the dancing couples lights a deep yearning within me. We’ve been dancing for over an hour. I thought he would be here by now, so where is he?

“I need to get going soon.” Jen pushes her damp hair away from her forehead. “Is your boyfriend coming to get you or what?”

“I thought so.” I glance around the room but I can’t see anything. It’s too damn dark.

“Huh.” She sips her drink. “No way am I leaving you here alone waiting for him. I can drive you home.”

“You don’t have to—”

Jen cuts me off. “I picked you up, I can definitely take you home. Don’t worry about it.”

“Cool. Thanks.” I nod once, my shoulders stiff. I refuse to be disappointed. I also refuse to text him. He knows exactly where I’m at so what the hell is taking him so long?

Maybe his dad called him again and needed to talk. Maybe he was going through a tough time over his dad’s anguish with the divorce and I’m being completely selfish wondering where he is. Maybe…

“Let me finish my drink and I’ll be ready to go,” Jen says, interrupting my thoughts.

“Okay.” I drain my ice water and set the glass on a nearby table, ignoring the girls sitting there who shoot me a dirty look. Though it was probably rude, what I just did, I couldn’t care less. I’m irritable.

They’re whispering loudly, probably griping about me and hoping to catch my attention, but I ignore them. I don’t need a bunch of catty bitches’ crap tonight.

The song ends and the lights brighten, flooding the dance floor. One of the most popular songs on the charts comes blasting on and everyone heads out to the floor, including Jen and me since we got caught up in the mass wave.

“One more dance,” she shouts at me and I nod in agreement.

The insult girls are dancing close by, shooting Jen and me rude glares, and I put my back to them, trying my best to enjoy this last song. My nerves are shot, though. The mean girls killed my buzz and I should’ve insisted on leaving before the song started.

But Jen’s into the music, a giant smile on her face as she waves her hands in the air like she just don’t care, yo.

I smile at my own mental joke and throw my hands up in the air, mimicking Jen. The music slowly starts to work its magic, taking me over until all I can feel is the pulse of the bass and the heartfelt lyrics running through my mind. I’m about to be completely swept away with the chorus when I hear one of the mean girls gasp behind me.

“No way! Is that Drew Callahan?”

Glancing over my shoulder, I catch sight of him standing on the opposite side of the room near the door, as if he just entered. He’s squinting as he scans the room, searching for me, no doubt, which sends a flutter of anticipating nerves through my body. He looks cute as hell in a white long-sleeve shirt with a button placket at the neck, the sleeves pushed up to reveal his sexy strong forearms. Jeans, of course, that mold to his thighs and remind me of just how muscular they are. His hair is hanging in his eyes and he pushes it away, flicking his head in irritation.

Pressing my lips together, I want to sigh like a little schoolgirl with my first crush. My man is so damn fine I can hardly stand it. He still hasn’t found me, though. In fact, he looks mighty irritated as he pushes through the crowd, his gaze constantly scanning, and a warm sensation washes over me as I keep moving, my attention half on the girls gushing about Drew and watching him.

“He never goes anywhere,” one of the girls says. “God, he’s so f**king gorgeous it hurts just looking at him.”

I’m tempted to turn and scratch her eyes out but I restrain myself. After all, I’m the one who had him na**d and between my legs earlier today. Drew Callahan belongs to me.