Natasha ~ Present
THE NEXT COUPLE OF WEEKS flew by in a flash of fiftieth birthdays, wedding receptions, and Kalvin and Malia’s engagement dinner.
We were so busy that it should have been impossible for me to let what Jericho said fester, but . . . fester it did.
And smashed me into a million pieces, he’d said, making me feel like the worst person in the world. I’d gone home that night, without dinner, and gone straight to Dru’s as promised. Millie had been at Jackson’s, so I cried on Dru’s shoulder and we’d ordered a pizza.
I filled Millie in the next day, letting her know the talk had taken place, and we’d agreed to a truce. She’d been relieved, but I’d noticed her watching me warily ever since, as if she were waiting for me to break down at any moment.
I hadn’t.
In fact, I’d even waved at Jericho when I saw him from across the street. Twice!
Still, that sentence had been on a loop in my brain ever since. Of course, I’d known I’d hurt him, but to think that by doing what I thought was saving myself tremendous pain, only to cause him that pain, made me feel like a jerk of epic proportions.
“You ready?” Dru asked as she walked into our office.
Her eyes conveyed her concern, but she still managed to give me a reassuring smile.
“As I’ll ever be,” I replied as I rose from my desk.
This would be my first real test. We were meeting Millie and Jackson and Jackson’s friends at the bar for a drink, kind of a pre-celebration celebration, for their engagement. The actual dinner would be held a week from tonight at Prime Beef, and would be a more formal affair, with tons of people in attendance. Tonight was just for friends and family. Which included me, and Jericho.
“I’ll stay with you the whole time,” Dru promised as we headed out.
“You don’t have to do that,” I assured her. “It’s going to be fine. We talked . . .”
“Yeah, I remember,” Dru said dryly, and I decided to let it go.
When we arrived at the bar, I was happy to see that we’d arrived before Jericho. Not that I was anticipating any problems, I just wanted to get settled and in my seat, maybe have a few sips of my drink before the comradery commenced.
“Hey, how’s it going?” Rob, Jackson’s friend and fellow teacher, said as we walked up. His wife, Jan, gave us a wave before going back to stealing fries off of Rob’s plate.
“Ladies,” Ty, another teacher and friend, greeted.
“Hi, everyone,” Dru replied.
Jackson, Rob, and Ty all taught at the same school, along with Rebecca, Ty’s girlfriend, who I saw standing at the bar. I waved at her, then took a seat across from Jan.
“The happy couple not here yet?” I asked.
“No, not yet,” Ty said. “They were dropping Kayla off with Jackson’s parents, and should be here soon. Rebecca’s putting in an order of appetizers and getting a couple pitchers.”
“What’s up?”
I looked up to see a large man walk up to the table. I’d never seen him before. He was tall and built, like a UFC fighter or someone who did lots and lots of CrossFit. His hair was dark, and his face ruggedly handsome.
I turned my head and noticed Dru watching him, her eyes unblinking and her mouth hanging slightly open.
I kicked her under the table.
“Hey!” she cried, coming out of her trance and shifting toward me to punch me in the arm. “That hurt.”
“Ow,” I muttered, rubbing my arm and glaring at her. I lowered my voice and said, “I was trying to help you out before drool started dripping down your chin.”
Dru flushed and said, “Shut up, I was not drooling.”
“You sure as hell were staring at him like he’s a medium-rare steak and you haven’t eaten in weeks.”
Dru rolled her eyes, then looked back at the man, before turning back to me and asking, “Did you see his eyes?”
I glanced at the stranger who was talking to Rob and Ty, his voice deep and rumbly. He must have noticed me staring, because his eyes flicked to me, and wowza, they were the palest green I’d ever seen. Truly striking.
Not knowing what to do, I lifted my hand and waved my fingers. “Hi, I’m Natasha, you can call me Tasha, and this is Dru. We’re Millie’s sisters.”
“Hi,” Dru squeaked, and I looked at her with surprise. She never got weirded out or intimidated by guys, ever.
The man rounded the table and strode toward us, his movements surprisingly graceful.
“Michael O’Donnelly, you can call me Mick,” he said, his hand outstretched.
I took his hand first, since Dru was sitting there like a statue, and said, “Nice to meet you, Mick.”
Once I heard his name, I remembered that he’d been the private investigator that Jackson hired to find his now ex-wife. Millie had mentioned that they’d become friends, and Mick had joined the fantasy football league and often met the guys for drinks.
“Nice to meet you, too,” I said.
He released my hand and offered it to Dru, who stared at it like it was a stick of dynamite.
I kicked her again.
“Ouch . . . stop doing that,” Dru complained, but it woke her up enough that she shook Mick’s hand. “Hi.”
They stayed like that for a minute, staring at each other in a way that had me feeling the need to fan myself, then Mick let her hand go and turned. I watched curiously as Dru’s cheeks flushed, and was about to ask what the heck was going on when a movement caught my eye, and I looked up.
It was him.
Damn.
Apparently in the last couple weeks he’d lost his razor and missed an appointment with his barber, because his dark hair had grown out a bit and started curling around his neck, and he had the beginnings of the sexiest beard I’d ever seen.
Shit, I thought, as my heart started racing and my body warmed at the site of him. He knows I love it when he starts looking a little shaggy, a little . . . dangerous.
Was he doing it on purpose?