The construction worker. They’d finally had that date, and it sounded like it had gone well. From what Mrs. Jo had said, the man was up Brielle’s ass. Didn’t he have a job? Working for me? When did he have time for all this swimming and putt-putt?

  I managed to thank Mrs. Jo for the pie as she walked me to the door. I stepped out into the hallway and expected her to say good-bye and close her door, but she was watching me. Was I supposed to say something else about the pie? I’d thanked her already.

  “Fate is what we make of it. We can let it happen, or we can manipulate it. All depends on what you want badly enough. Seeing the future isn’t a gift we’re given. Sometimes, you just gotta listen to your gut, take fate’s handlebars, and steer. But then that’s all up to you now, isn’t it?” Mrs. Jo said, then smiled at me before closing her door in my face.

  I looked down at my pie and wondered if she’d truly made me this because she thought I needed it or if it had been a way to get me down here so she could tell me all of that. What had happened to her talk about me not being what Brielle needed?

  I started to knock on her door but paused and dropped my hand back to my side. This wasn’t my business. I should be relieved. I should be happy for Brielle. Getting in her way and screwing with their lives wasn’t okay.

  Turning to walk back to the elevator, I heard a door open behind me and glanced back to see if Mrs. Jo had decided she needed to say more. But it wasn’t Mrs. Jo’s door. It was Brielle’s.

  She stood there, staring at me with those big blue eyes, and I felt something in my chest tighten. Damn her for getting to me.

  “Hi,” she said with a small lift of her hand to wave.

  “Hey,” I replied, then held up the pie a little. “Mrs. Jo made me a welcome back treat.”

  She smiled, but it didn’t meet her eyes. “She’s good about that.”

  I wanted to say more. Ask her about the construction worker. Ask how Cam’s first week back at school was. Ask how she was doing. Just listen to her talk. But I did none of those things.

  “Tell Cam I said hi,” I told her, then reached down to press the button on the elevator.

  “I will,” was her soft reply.

  I stared at the elevator doors until I heard her door close. Glancing back, I saw her head to the stairs. She was leaving and had chosen not to use the elevator because of me. I could go after her and apologize. But what would I apologize for exactly?

  We hadn’t been dating. I’d had one hot moment with her that I thought about too damn much. That was it. Other than some fun back-and-forth sparring with our words, there was nothing else.

  My taking care of her when she was sick had only been because she needed a friend. She needed help. And I was scared that something would happen to her. I had cared.

  The elevator doors opened, and I stepped inside.

  I still fucking cared. Too much.

  twenty-two

  brielle

  “We are going up there!” Clara said close to my ear as she slid back onto the stool beside me.

  I glanced back over my shoulder just as a girl with short, curly red hair was announced. She was going to be singing “Oops! … I Did It Again.”

  Shocker. The first karaoke of the night was a Britney Spears song. I rolled my eyes and turned back to my drink in front of me on the bar. This entire night was a mistake. I should be home, watching my television. Possibly eating ice cream or maybe making brownies for when Cam came home tomorrow from his sleepover with Jeremy.

  “What song should we do?” Clara asked me.

  The guys at the other end of the bar stood up and started heading in our direction. I’d caught the blond one watching me when Clara went to the restroom. It had only been a matter of time before they made a move. I downed the rest of my vodka and soda, then stood up.

  “I don’t care. Just try to be more original than Britney,” I told her. “I’m going to the restroom.”

  Clara frowned. “You just said you didn’t have to go.”

  “That was before we had guys headed in our direction,” I replied.

  Clara looked around me, and her eyes lit up. “Oh, they’re cute though. Especially the blond one.”

  Good. She could have them both. I was interested in neither. Things were going well with Gavin—or they had been. Even Cam had enjoyed that he was included on some of our dates. I should be happy about that. Instead, I’d made an excuse to Gavin when he asked me out tonight simply because my head wasn’t in a good place.

  Dean was back. It had been easy to push him aside and not dwell on him too much when I never saw him. Then, he’d been on entertainment news with the rest of Slacker Demon as their tour was announced. Knowing he wasn’t upstairs had made it easier to compartmentalize him in my thoughts. He was back to being a rock star.

  Seeing him yesterday had messed with my head. I hadn’t expected him to return—at least, not anytime soon. Maybe when he came to visit his family.

  When Clara had called to ask me to go to karaoke Saturday night at Chandelier, I’d agreed. I’d been weak and needed a diversion.

  Gavin deserved more than that. I liked him. He was a good man. He liked me, and I knew it. He made it clear and never kept me guessing. He was a hard worker. He brought me flowers.

  He wasn’t Dean. But then that was unfair. No one was Dean Finlay. No one ever would be.

  I reached for Clara’s screwdriver and downed it, too, just before the two guys came up on either side of us.

  Clara started speaking, and I smiled brightly at both men, feeling slightly buzzed now that I’d drunk two drinks so quickly. My need to go to the restroom was no longer a lie to escape. I gave Clara a wave and walked back toward the line leading to the women’s restroom. The Britney song ended, and I sighed in relief. That had been brutal. Not that I didn’t like Britney—I did. It was just that, tonight, I knew ten other girls would sing a Britney song and butcher it, much like that one had.

  I was almost to the line when a hand wrapped around my arm, and I instantly jerked my arm, trying to get it free as I spun around to see who was touching me. I had a can of pepper spray in my purse, but I couldn’t get it out and use it in a crowded bar. Just as the thought crossed my mind, my eyes locked on familiar sunglasses and a baseball hat.

  My eyes went wide as I realized who had my arm. I did a quick glance around to see if anyone else realized who he was. In a place like this, he would cause a complete frenzy.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked him, leaning in so he could hear me over a not-so-bad version of Lizzo’s “Truth Hurts.”

  “Where’s the construction worker?” was his reply.

  Frowning up at him, I tugged to free my arm, but he kept his fingers wrapped firmly around it. “You do realize if someone spots you, all hell will break loose,” I pointed out.

  “Where’s Cam?” he asked this time.

  I laughed. I should be mad. He had disappeared and not said a word to me in almost a month. But I was laughing. It had to be the drinks.

  “He’s at his friend’s house. Sleepover,” I replied, then looked over at the line to the restroom. “I really need to use the restroom. Can you let go of me?”

  Dean’s hand held my arm. “Come with me.” It sounded like an order, not a request.

  “I’m not kidding. I need to pee.”

  He gave me a single nod and began pulling me toward the back of the club. Where were we going? I needed to get into the line for the restroom. Damn him. Looking toward the bar as I was being hauled away, I saw Clara’s eyes meet mine. She shifted her gaze from me to Dean, and then she smiled back at me.

  Seriously? She was supposed to watch out for me. That was our job when we went out. To watch out for each other. She was just going to let him take me and smile about it? Traitor.

  When we approached, a bouncer opened a black door that blended in with the walls, then nodded his head at Dean. We went through the door, and I wasn’t sure where we were. This was not a part of Chandelier I had ever seen before.

  “Where are we going?” I asked him. “Please tell me there is a restroom there,” I added with emphasis.

  A wide staircase appeared as we turned a corner, and Dean led me up them, not once letting go of my arm. At this point, I was more curious than anything. I had come to this club more times than I could count since I’d turned twenty-one, and not once had I seen this part of it. Posters of concerts they’d held here lined the walls. I knew they hosted smaller shows for lesser-known artists, but I had never paid the price to get into one of those.

  We reached the top step, and Dean finally released me. I swayed, slightly taken off guard, and he scowled at me.

  “Are you drunk?” he asked.

  I returned his scowl. “No.”

  He walked past me and opened a tall silver door. “Go pee,” he said.

  Relieved, I hurried through the door and paused. It was a fancy single-person restroom. The door closed behind me, and I locked it, then looked in the mirror at myself before taking care of business. My makeup was more than I usually wore. I’d let Clara do it for me tonight.

  The short red dress barely covered my ass. The low neckline and spaghetti straps made it impossible to wear a bra. It was one of many Clara had brought over and the only one that remotely covered my boobs. Even the heels I had on were Clara’s. They were as silver as the door I had walked through, and I liked the way they sparkled under the lights in the club. I never dressed up like this, but tonight, I wanted to be someone else. Clara had made me into someone I wasn’t. It was my night to escape.

  Then, Dean had shown up.

  I frowned at my reflection then. Why was he here? Had he come looking for me? I hadn’t told anyone where I was going.

  I finished in the restroom, then made my way back out the door to find Dean without his cap and sunglasses, leaning against the opposite wall with his arms crossed over his chest, waiting for me. He was dressed like a rock star with his ripped black jeans and leather jacket, no shirt on underneath. He looked hot in something that would look strange on any other man downstairs in the club.

  “What are you doing here, and why are we back … here?” I asked him to distract myself from the small silver hoop in his left nipple.

  “Where is the construction worker?” he asked me again.

  Sighing, I shook my head. “I don’t know where Gavin is. I didn’t ask him what his plans were tonight. Why do you care? Are you interested in him now?”

  Dean smirked and pushed off from the wall with his back as his arms dropped to his sides. “God, I missed your smart-ass mouth,” he said.

  I shouldn’t care that he’d missed anything about me. I should continue to scowl at him and demand he take me back to Clara. I had a song to sing. I shouldn’t be up here with him.

  What I should do and what I already knew I was going to do were two different things. And I would later blame my decision on the alcohol.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked him again.

  He sauntered toward me, and it was unfair, the way he could make simply walking appear cool. As if it were a sport. One he excelled at.

  “I needed to get out. Clear my head,” he said. “But I’m so fucking lucky that while I was trying to clear my head, the object that wouldn’t get out of it appeared at the bar.”

  I tried not to dwell on the fact that he was talking about me. That it made my insides tingly and warm. I would blame that on the vodka too.

  “What if someone had noticed you?” I asked him.

  He placed a hand on my lower back and led me toward another door. “Unlikely,” he replied. “I wasn’t down there until I had to be. Until I saw something I needed to go get.”

  Dean pushed open the door, and I walked inside. There was a clear view of the entire club from the floor-to-ceiling window that was at least ten feet long. I frowned, trying to think about how I’d never noticed this before. Had it been because I never looked up, or was it a two-way mirror? If people could be seen up here from below, someone would have noticed by now.

  “Want a drink?” Dean asked me.

  I turned to look at him as he walked over to a full bar against the right wall. There were also eight red leather chairs sitting around the room and a large bearskin rug in the center of things. I hoped it was fake. The lighting in here was dim with only two floor lamps on the back wall.

  “What is this?” I asked him.

  “It’s the owner’s lounge, where he lets his favorite guests hang out,” Dean told me.

  “Of course you know the owner,” I said.

  He walked over to me with a glass of ice water. “Drink this. Hydrate.”

  I looked at the water and started to argue but figured he was right. I should drink water. I took the glass and then drank deeply before walking over to study the club below. It took me a few moments before I found Clara on the dance floor with the blond guy from the bar. Karaoke was on a break, and music was being played by a live band.

  “How do you know the owner?” I asked Dean without looking back at him.

  “Jimmy is a friend of my son and daughter-in-law,” he replied.

  I hadn’t expected that answer. I’d figured it had to do with Slacker Demon or his fame.

  “So, you were up here and saw me?” I asked him, finally turning from the scene below to look at Dean.

  He had taken a seat in one of the chairs and was watching me as he drank what looked like whiskey in his glass.

  He simply nodded.

  “Why did you come get me?” I asked him then.

  He took a drink, then said nothing for a moment. I thought he wasn’t going to answer when he finally replied, “I didn’t like it.”

  “Didn’t like what?”

  He didn’t hesitate this time. “That,” he said, waving his hand in my direction.

  I glanced down at myself, then back at him. “You don’t like my dress?” I asked him for clarification.

  He stood up, then set his glass on the small table beside his chair. His eyes were locked on mine. “I love the fucking dress. I didn’t like that everyone in that bar was getting to see you in it. Is that what you want to hear? You want me to admit it, Brielle? Tell you that I didn’t want others looking at your hot little body? That I didn’t want men fantasizing about getting their hands on you?”

  I shook my head.

  Dean took a step toward me, tilting his head as he moved closer, and then smirked. “Yeah, it is. That’s exactly what you wanted to hear.”

  I was struggling for words as I stood there, looking at him. Yes, hearing him say it made me feel things inside I shouldn’t. This was Dean. A man I should keep my distance from. He could confuse my future. He could destroy the life I had built for me and Cam. This was a bad idea for more reasons than he realized.

  But just like it had in the times before, my body didn’t agree with me. My heart raced as he moved closer to me, and I wanted things that were best left alone.

  Dean stopped as he reached me, and I watched in fascination as he shrugged out of his leather jacket. The corded muscles on his arms were those of a younger man’s. The tattoos covering his body only accented his well-defined chest.

  He placed his left hand on my waist, then looked down at my breasts as he pulled me to him. “I tried,” he said in a husky whisper. “I even left town. I did shit I don’t want to admit. None of it worked.” He lifted his eyes to meet mine. “You won’t get out of my head, Brielle. Why can’t I stop thinking about you?”

  I didn’t think he wanted an answer. Not that I had one. All I could do was stare up at him. This was different. It wasn’t like before. This could be a huge mistake. It was a mistake, and we hadn’t done anything.

  He lifted a hand and ran his pointer finger along my collarbone, then brushed his thumb over the swell of my breasts. “I need to fuck you like I need to breathe,” he said, moving his gaze from my breasts to my face again. “You have a power over me, and I don’t like it, but I am starting to accept it.”

  Again, no words. I had no words. What did I say to this? No? I wasn’t strong enough to say no. Not here. Not in this moment. Not after I had thought about him for weeks. Not when I had spent my days pushing him from my mind, only to hear one of his songs or see … something that reminded me of him.

  “Later, I want you naked in my bed. I want hours to taste you, explore you, sink myself inside of you. But I can’t wait,” he said, brushing hair from my shoulder. “I’m gonna fuck you now. This dress, those goddamn heels,” he said as his hand wrapped around my upper arm again and jerked me flush against him. “I need that pussy gripping my cock, Brielle. I want to come with you crying out my name.”

  I trembled. My entire body gave me away. His words were making me feel weak and needy, all at once. I was glad he was holding me so tightly because I wasn’t sure I could stand without swaying.

  He slid his other hand up my side, then cupped my breast. “You want it, too, don’t you, baby?” he asked, pleased by the way my body was responding to him.

  His chest smelled like the leather he’d been wearing. I wanted to stick my tongue out and taste him. See if he was salty from sweat. Inhale his scent deeper. The tenderness between my legs ached.

  This was a bad idea I wouldn’t be able to stop.

  “Fuck,” he swore, grabbing my waist and spinning me around to face the crowd below.

  Then, his fingers found the bottom of my dress, and he pulled the fabric up to my waist. There were many things I should be concerned with in this moment. However, my choice of panties wasn’t one of them. I’d worn my tiniest pair, so there would be no panty line under my dress.

  “Jesus Christ,” he swore as his hand ran over my bare butt cheeks.

  When he slid a hand between my legs and under the strip of silk that was there, I gasped, and my knees buckled.