My boss?

I glower up at Axel for a good long minute. I’ve found that in life there’s no greater way to communicate rage, disappointment, and perhaps overall disgust in a person than a long bout of silence backed up with a hellish glare beaming from your eyes.

“I see.” My teeth grind as I try to digest this. First, I knew that Ax had a share in The Sloppy Pelican, thus theoretically placing him in this power position. And second, I knew that I would have the occasional run-in with him at my new place of employment, but never in my wildest—weirdest dreams did I imagine him barking out orders—demanding that I jump—fully expecting me to ask how high.

I take a step in close to him in that three-piece black pin-striped suit, the deep navy tie that gleams in the light like a warm velvet night, and his cologne permeating my senses. Axel Collins has always had the gift of dressing impeccably, but it was his warm, woodsy scent that made me want to wrap myself around his naked body like a scarf.

“Let me get this straight—you think you’re going to dominate me?” I scoff at the idea. “I’d laugh, but I won’t waste my energy on the idea.”

Axel inches in with those glowing gray eyes, and my stomach bottoms out like the traitor it is. My breathing picks up, and I try my hardest to hide the fact my chest demands to palpitate as if I just ran the Boston Marathon. His hair is neatly slicked back, dark and glossy, and just begging for my fingers to run through it. Axel had the softest hair, so thick you could get lost in it, and I would often spend hours doing just that. Once upon a time, I loved Axel Collins or so I thought. In reality, once upon a time I was an all-out idiot, and I swore I would never venture into idiot-infested waters again.

A brief visual of Axel’s naked body gliding over mine rips through me like a nuclear heat wave, and my thighs quiver as if this were a reality about to happen. If I could, I’d sever them and feed them to Strudel for even thinking about quivering for the moron in front of me.

Axel smolders into me as if reading my mind, and judging by that lewd grin begging to pin itself on his face, I’m guessing that he enjoys what he sees. Pervert.

“Excuse me?” a tiny female voice drawls out in a faint Southern accent from behind, and I turn to find a petite blonde with blue eyes the size of dinner plates and boobs the size of basketballs. “I happened to notice the now hiring sign out front and wondered if I could get an application? I just tried at the Black Bear—that’s sort of my haunt. I’m there so often I might as well be a fixture—but it’s a no-go since they’ve met their quota. It’s mostly coeds they hire anyway—and believe you me, I’ve long since said goodbye to those schoolgirl days. I am one hundred percent wo-man if you know what I mean.” Her finger glides down Axel’s tie unwarranted. “I’ve waited tables for years back in South Carolina, but, at the moment, I’ve sort of hit a dry patch with the tech firm I work for, and I’d love to give it another shot.” She bites her oversized red painted lip while batting her doe eyes up at Ax. “I’d work real hard all night long just for you, honey.”

“And I bet you’re hired.” I force a smile.

“You think so?” she squeals like a chipmunk on fire. “I’m Abby Wilcox.” She’s quick to extend a svelte hand with long vixen red nails to Ax. “The waitress I ran into in the parking lot said to look for a handsome devil in a suit.”

“That would be him.” I snarl in his direction. “The devil incarnate. Beware. This gentleman prefers blondes, redheads, and brunettes—sometimes all at once. He might make you feel extra special at the moment, but when push comes to shoving his tongue down somewhere, he goes for the nearest orifice he can find.”

Her entire face brightens as if I just spouted off some erotic bedtime story that ended in her favor. “Well, well—a man that goes after what he wants. I’ve always been drawn to the naughty love ’em and leave ’em type.” Her eyes widen and so do Axel’s, but for entirely different reasons.

He blinks my way. “Lexy here is simply pulling your leg.” Those heavy dark brows frame his face with something just this side of frustration. Speaking of frustration. What the living fresh hell is this Lexy business? I scowl over at him because for one he reduced me to an expletive even if it was simply privy to my own thoughts. “But I’ll be happy to give you an application. In fact, if you ask the bartender, he’ll pull one out for you. Why don’t you come back tomorrow afternoon and I’ll gladly give you an interview?”

“Great!” She does an odd little bunny hop, and I’m tempted to hook my heels under her feet and send her crashing hard on her bottom. “It was super nice to meet you—”

“Axel. Axel Collins.” He offers an affable smile her way, and she succumbs to a giggle fit that begs my hearing to shut off permanently.

“And it was great meeting you, too, Lexy! Something tells me we’re going to be fast friends.”

“I’m all caught up on my friend quota for the year. Oh, and call me Lexy again, and I’ll make sure you lose the ability to speak for a week. It’s just Lex. And I sincerely hope you get the job.” So you can annoy the ever-living heck out of Axel Collins with that dolphin meets hyena laugh. It’s enough to drive a grown man wild, all right. I’m betting Ax will be counting bottle caps on the roof right along with that silly pelican after three solid days of listening to that braying.

The Braying Barbie is quick to comply, and as soon as she leaves our air space Axel leans in. The warm smoky scent of his cologne calls to me like an old friend.

“I think we should talk.” His voice hits its lower octave, something that has always had the ability to drive me insane, and, at the moment, it drives me insane for another reason entirely—we should definitely not talk.

I don’t even bother quantifying it with an answer. I simply scoff at the idea and turn to leave, bumping promptly into Shep, Axel’s younger lookalike brother. My, my how Shep has grown over the years. Way back when I knew him, he was a scrawny kid, still in high school, just out of braces, and here he is, out of high school, out of both braces and Briggs, with two rows of perfectly white teeth. And let’s not forget that devilish gleam in his eyes. I’ve no doubt that Shep has an entire harem he tends to. I can spot a playboy a mile away, and right now I’m looking at two of them—duplicates of one another no less.

“I’ll email that paperwork to you.” He offers a partial embrace, and I accept—but only because I know Axel will have to witness the event. If there is a Collins boy touching my body, I’m pretty sure he’d rather it be him. We can’t all get what we want. It’s so nice to incorporate a teachable moment in this brief yet highly connective embrace.

“Is that a washboard in your shirt, or are you just happy to see me?” I force a violent laugh, and Shep laughs right along with me.

“That’s one hundred percent granite, baby!” He lets out a whoop, and I mask the fact I’d like to knee him for blowing out my eardrum. First, the blonde bunny, and now Shep? Is detonating eardrums a thing now? I haven’t exactly kept up with the trends other than myself on Twitter.

“Well, I don’t doubt it.” I offer his tummy a quick pat. “Sure enough, it’s not granite—it’s steel.”

Shep leers at me while pulling me in by the waist—a move that could have easily cost him his future children, but I’m slow to protest due to the fact Ax actually has steam coming from his ears. It’s a good look on him, one I’d like to induce often.

“Hey”—Shep brushes his finger over the tip of my nose, and it takes everything in me not to gasp—“why don’t I stop by sometime with those papers instead? We can go over a refinance plan that works for you. I gotta run.” He shoots Axel with his fingers, but Ax doesn’t bother to crack a smile. “Let’s do it, Teagan. I’ve got fifty places to be.” Their little sister hops up and glowers at me on her way out, offering Axel a meager wave. I’m shocked how much she looks like Emilia. In fact, Emilia is the Collins I’m looking forward to seeing the most. I hate that my breakup with her buffoon of a brother cost us what was shaping up to be a true friendship. As much as I’m loath to wade ankle-deep in the friendship pool, Emilia had a sardonic sense of humor that I could truly appreciate. Not to mention the fact she really knew how to put Axel in his place. And God, I’m going to spend the rest of my employment history at this place doing just that.

I try to make a break for it, but he glides over and blocks my path.

“About that conversation.” The dimple in his left cheek embeds itself deeply, and my chest squeezes tight. I used to live to kiss it, to stick my finger in it—heck, my tongue was no stranger to that beautiful divot. I hate the way the entire universe seems to be warping toward it at the moment.

“It’s not happening.” I also hate that I had to qualify my answer with words. God, speaking, let alone to Axel Collins is the last thing I want to do. All of my words, the best of me in general is strictly reserved for my family.

Brody steps up with his keys in one hand and his laptop in the other. “I’m taking off. It’s all yours, Ax.”

A quick burst of panic pumps through me. “What do you mean you’re taking off? It’s my first night. Low said you’d be here to walk me through it.” My voice hikes in that ridiculous way it’s prone to when I’m about to spiral into a fit.

He winces as he glances to the door. Brody reminds me of everybody’s big brother. Handsome and rugged and an all-around nice guy that you secretly want to look after. “I’m sorry, Lex. I just had my ass handed to me by our accountant. It looks like I’ll be buried under a mountain of paperwork for the next few weeks. There’s no easy way out of this. I hate to do this to you because both you and I know what an asshole Ax can be.” He offers a playful wink at his longtime friend, and I’m suddenly enraged by their camaraderie. “But I’m sure Ax can give you a few quick and dirty tips to keep you afloat tonight. I’ll check in as often as I can.” He reaches over and smacks Axel over the arm. “Behave yourself. Lex here is a lady. I don’t care about your history. Don’t make her uncomfortable. We need her.” He nods my way before taking off.

“You do need me,” I hiss tersely at the ass standing before me—Brody’s terminology not mine. “Judging by the fact you’re functioning on a skeleton crew, I’ll be a treasured commodity by the end of the night. I’ve always understood my worth even when those around me did their best to disparage it.” I practically bite the air between us as I make a break for it, but Axel glides to the left, yet again dictating that I don’t move.

His chest expands and deflates dramatically as if he ran a mile to get here. His eyes narrow to slits, but there’s not a hint of anger in them. He’s bedroom eyeing me, taking me in ways that I would never let him. I can practically see the pornographic scene play out in his eyes.

“I would never disparage you. I treasure you.” He doesn’t break his gaze as if driving home the point with those steely beams. “Remember that night at the Witch’s Cauldron?”

“The hot spring I scalded myself in? How can I forget? It melted the fingerprints right off my hands.”

He flexes a dry smile before the moment grows tense once again.

“Yes, I remember that night at the Witch’s Cauldron. It was the beginning of the end. It started off with me on top of the world and ended with the world sitting on my chest cutting off my air supply.” I burst past him with a violent thump to his shoulder as if we were two dumb jocks ready to come to blows. And I was dumb way back when for ever falling for anything he had to say.

“Lexy”—he spins me back gently by the elbow—“not that part.”

There’s grief in his eyes that I was hoping would never leave him, and now that I’m witness to that tender ache myself, I’m practically walking on air. As a general rule of thumb, it’s every ex-girlfriend’s dream to see your ex still pining for you, embroiled in so much misery and pain they can hardly catch their breath. And right now, Axel Collins is a giant ball of heartache, and that alone fuels an unnatural level of glee in me.

“The other part.” He winces. “You and me, the moonlight. It started off as the best night of our lives.” He’s pleading, those eyes are downcast, and a sudden urge to bubble with laughter overcomes me, but I won’t give it in the event he mistakes it for a fond rehashing of that all-night make-out fest, which led to a proposal, which immediately thereafter led to an epic breakup. But hindsight is twenty-twenty, and I’ve long since taken off my rose-colored lust-tinted glasses. We were destined to crash and burn all along.

I flick a finger in the air. “You, me, and moonlight? I don’t think I remember those details in particular. I’ve revisited the Witch’s Cauldron many times since and with an entire assortment of suitors. It’s all blending together.” I take a step in and latch onto those shining pale eyes. “You’re just another face in the crowd when I think of that place—so interchangeable. In fact, when I think of all the men who have graced my bed, I have a hard time remembering anything about you.” I tap my finger to my cheek as if struggling to summon a memory. “Oh, that’s right. Finished quick and then rolled over and played dead. On second thought, I do remember you.” The muscles in his jaw bounce as he grinds his teeth. You can practically see his blood pressure hit the ceiling, as his rage demands he speak out in self-defense, and yet I’ve rendered him speechless. What a crying shame. A wicked smile clips my lips as I stride right on by, and this time he doesn’t stop me.

I flatten my hands over my skirt, girding myself for the task at hand. An entire army of bodies just walked through the doors, and I do what I signed up for—I serve the masses. Hours zip by as if The Sloppy Pelican were caught in some space-time continuum that worked in my high-heeled favor. For the love of all things holy, each time I looked to the clock the hands were spinning. My feet feel as though they’ve both been flatten by a steamroller, my back feels as if the bartender took a baseball bat to it, and my head is pulsating with a heartbeat of its own, ready to explode all over this miner catastrophe of a restaurant.

If I never look at another Mason jar again, it’ll be too soon. Try carrying a tray full of them brimming with water, iced tea, and don’t forget the fourteen kinds of lemonade Low made sure to instate. Sure, infusing the menu with sophisticated offerings was a great idea, but if I have one more person ask me what part of the cow is the Wagyu from, I’ll be roping humans in this establishment until they haul me off to a nice warm jail cell with a glorified ironing board for a cot. Solitary confinement for one, please. The muscles in my legs ache, my vagina aches, and both she and I know that was a load of testosterone-riddled bull I was feeding Axel earlier. Axel was the last man I slept with. That’s right. It’s been a long hard nuclear winter in my nether region. But it’s a secret I’ll drag to my grave right along with my unused pink parts.

I stagger over to the bar as the patrons flood the exit. The last of my customers just took off. There’s just a drunk mumbling into his beer and a couple dry humping—oh heck, they could outright be doing the nasty. I think everyone in here is too tired to care. Mojo, the bartender, nods me over—yes, he assured me that was his formal moniker, and considering the fact he’s ratted and tatted head to toe, including his shiny bald head with a snake that dips into his forehead, I didn’t dare question him on it.

“You look like someone just wiped the floor with you.” He grunts out a laugh that sounds more like a threat, and instantly I like him.

“That’s because I listened to someone who told me these heels would pay for themselves by the end of my shift if I knew how to move in them. They’re Louboutins for the record, which means my tips better amount to a cool grand or I’m quitting.”

“Was she right?” He nods to the bulge in my apron where I’ve been stuffing all the cash that was flung my way.

“I don’t know. I’m too tired to care at this point. What good is money when all I really want is a bed or the back seat of my car, whichever I hit first.”

He barks out a laugh. “Words I hear the ladies say often.” He flops a towel down onto the counter. “You mind manning the fort a moment? I gotta hit the head.” He nods to the restrooms.

“Hit as many heads as you like.” I snap the towel up as if that made me look official. Axel disappeared in the back about fifteen minutes ago—probably banging his own head against the wall for ever letting his so-called friends talk him into ponying up the funds for this place. Only two other waitresses are left on the floor with me, and they’ve started flipping chairs up on tables in an effort to start closing the place. If anyone thinks I’m going to start picking up seventy-pound wooden chairs and hoisting them through the air, they’re delusional. A bodybuilder I am not. And my heels are designed for a lot of things, but juggling furniture is not one of them. Although, I can’t help but admire the way the other girls are able to flip seats with the best of them and all the while carry on a conversation that contains the words BJ and diapers. I’m guessing one led to the other.

Drunk Frat Boy edges toward me, leering at me with a demented grin as he holds out his empty oversized mug. “More,” he grunts as he lunges forward, and his six-foot frame aptly topples over mine.

“Whoa, cowboy. This isn’t a rodeo, and I’m not a horse.” I do my best to push him off, but his hands gravitate toward my hindquarters and do their best impression of a starfish as he clamps onto my flesh.

“Get the heck off, you living, breathing idiot!” I howl in his ear, struggling to get his sweaty body off mine, but his grip on me increases with superhuman strength that only beer can provide as his lips latch onto mine. “I’m going to kill you!” I thunder so loud it sends Axel running from the back with a fire in his eyes like he might beat me to the punch. But before Axel ever clears the counter, my knee gives a violent jolt into Frat Boy’s baby maker and he lets out a lung expiring oof.

Axel plucks him from me and lands a few solid punches to his face, but he’s too wasted to properly defend himself and the entire scene looks sort of sad.

Mojo bolts over and drags the drunk carcass to the door before the idiot comes to.

“I’m calling the cops!” Mojo shouts as he plucks the keys from the moaning puddle of beer.

“You okay? That was some knee action.” Axel takes a moment to rub my arms warm with his hands, and I try to push him away reflexively.

“I just turned that man into a woman, and if you’re not careful I’ll do the same to you.”

His eyes close briefly. “I’m already half the man I was without you in my life.”

“Oh, cry me a river!” I scream as I pound my fist over his chest as if trying to stomp his heart out like a flame. “You were quite the man on campus at NYU, weren’t you?” His arms float to my hips, and I take a full step back out of his reach for good.

Axel pants, unable to catch his breath, looking at me with an apology written all over his face, but I won’t take it. Instead, I stride forward and do what I wish I did that night. In a move that I have rehearsed for the last six years, I offer an open palmed slap that burns my flesh as much as it does his. The stubble on his cheek singes my palm as I disconnect, but our eyes remain locked as a moment of terrible truth fills the void between us.

Axel and Lex are over, now and forevermore. We were over long before we ever began all those years ago.

I hit the exit and fly past the drunk frat boy who’s currently vomiting on his shoes, straight into a starry Hollow Brook night that suspiciously reminds me of that horror back at the Witch’s Cauldron.

Axel was right. It started off with a hint of promise.

But my story never ends there. I wish I understood that principle then. It would have saved me a hell of a lot of heartache.

* * *

Days drift by and somewhere in that muscle aching, dizzying haze of strutting around the bar while sloshing beer to patrons and threatening the balls of any degenerate that has the nerve to think that my bottom doubles as a stress-relieving device, I’ve let Raven talk me into hosting an impromptu bridal shower at my home in Low’s honor.

Raven has been hanging around The Sloppy Pelican—a lot. She’s giddy, and bubbly, and always has a smile plastered to her face, but those aren’t the only reasons she grates on me. It’s the fact she has mistaken me for a long-lost bosom buddy. Just a few short weeks ago she was busy traipsing around Milan, Paris, the South Pacific, and who knows what other exotic locale, and suddenly she’s planted herself to a seat at The Pelican with her laptop in tow staring at YouTube videos of kittens while nursing an overgrown Cobb salad. It’s annoying. She’s annoying. But she’s far less of a nuisance than Axel who’s traded his business attire for a lumberjack uniform. Okay, I’ll admit he looks decent in a T-shirt and flannel—and he looks even better from behind where I don’t have to see him stealing glances my way every chance he gets—plus, he has a hot ass. Fine, I’ve said it.

Nevertheless, Raven showed up at my place an hour ago and decorated the living room with streamers and balloons in the shape of male genitalia. And if that X-rated cake in the kitchen is any indication of where this night is headed, then I already want to run screaming. Only I can’t, on account there are actual protesters marching just outside of my driveway. It appears that Stumpy across the street has nothing better to do with her time than orchestrate public demonstrations—a position she’s currently been drafted into, her words, not mine. And she’s chosen to cut her teeth by setting up a demonstration in my honor. Hostility toward the disabled is a form of discrimination, one sign reads and sadly that seems to be the only sign that makes any sort of sense. I peer out the window as evening falls over Hollow Brook washing the street and the protesters with their ridiculous signs a deep shade of blue-violet. Down with this! Dogs hate this house! Build a prison here! Irritated and outraged! It’s only YOUR opinion!

“My God, these imbeciles don’t even make any sense. Do they realize they’re as dumb as those sticks they’re holding?” I scoff as I spot their ringleader. “And there she is, the Chihuahua Queen parading them around like show ponies.”

Raven comes in and sticks her face through the crack in the curtain. “Is that Stumpy? Wow, she’s just as mean as you are!” She all but smashes her nose to the glass. I’ve apprised Raven of the beast at the heart of this debacle, and it wasn’t that hairy sheep dog that’s been shitting on my lawn for the past few months. How I hate that I’ve been reduced to curse words even in my own stream of consciousness. One day soon, when I smother the life out of Stumpy in the doggie brownies that the hairy scary sheep dog still makes it his business to leave behind, I’ll curse up an entire expletive-riddled tirade as I chase her soul off the planet for good.

“No one’s as mean as I am.” A self-satisfied smile comes to my lips. Mean is a title I’ve earned, and like all things one must work hard for, I cherish it with a passion.

“You got me there. Hey, do you think you and Axel will ever get back together?”

“Not on your life or his.” A meager smile bleeds through my lips. “Never to be exact.”

“Never say never. If the universe loves anything, it loves a happy ending.”

“Well, it’s not getting one from me. And if the universe ever even whispers the words happy ending to me, I won’t hesitate in telling it to shut up.”

Her body goes rigid as she lets out a sudden gasp. “She’s here! Run and hide!” She swats me away from the curtains and sends Strudel into a barking tirade. In her decorating spree, she even managed to tie a little pink penis balloon around his collar.

“Why would I hide? I live here and she’s coming to see me.” I sneak a quick glance out the window and note an entire row of familiar faces pouring out of the orifice of at least three different vehicles. I suck in a quick breath. “Oh shit—ake mushrooms, what have you done?” I growl at Raven, and she’s quick to utilize Strudel as a doggie shield. “Coward.”

“I had to invite them. Parties are more fun with actual people in attendance.” She ducks back behind Strudel once again just as the door magically opens and in strides Low, Levi, Brody, Levi’s doppelganger of a brother, that witch he’s currently separated from—and last, but not least, tall, dark, and handsome as all hell is about to break loose Axel Collins. That pink handprint I gifted him a few days ago is still marginally visible to the trained eye, although the stubble he’s allowing to proliferate over his cheeks is masking the effect a bit. That handprint is the only thing I’ll smile at while looking at him.

The rest of the party begins on an instant chatter, with both Mer and Low cooing over Strudel. Raven starts the music pumping through that portable speaker she’s hauled over. It’s no bigger than my cell phone, but it packs a powerful backbeat that nicely drowns out the noise of the protesters. I slam the door shut behind Axel and silence the menacing masses.

Axel steps in with his lips curved in a dangerous smile as he whips out a single red rose. “Surprise.” He holds it up between us like an offering, and my mouth falls open. Just as I’m about to throttle it, he snatches it back, those dark brows of his jumping with pleasure as he denies me its beauty. He knows roses are my favorite. Any flower that has razor-sharp claws reigns supreme in my book. “Ah-ah!” he teases. “It’s for the bride-to-be.”

A deep rumbling growl strums from me, and I can’t seem to stop it, not sure why I would either. Both Levi and Brody turn to look over while Axel makes his special delivery. We watch as Low places it between her teeth and blows her betrothed a kiss.

Love. Yuck. The bride-to-be’s marriage certificate should come with a warning, an entire pamphlet with a skull and crossbones on the cover. Suddenly, I’m feeling very much a friend of Harlow Hartley’s, and once this sham of a shindig is over, I’ll pull her to the side and tell her how it really is. Sure, she’ll cry for a bit, maybe vomit on the Moroccan rug, Nanette, that I worked an entire month to own, but it’ll be good for her to hear the worst of it now before this entire wedding, her entire marriage blows up in her face like a beer can someone shook too hard at a sorority mixer. Speaking of which, that’s exactly what this night looks like—a sorority mixer I never wanted to attend.

Raven bounces her hands in the air to the music and lets out a few wild whoops. “All right, everybody! Low and Levi aren’t hitched yet, and if my estimations are correct, every person in this room is free of a legal union or currently sep-ar-ated.” She gives her brother Chip a hard wink. So weird. Raven is weird. Raven is a weird walking time bomb. How could Low ever want to be friends with her? She’s decorated this room in plastic penises for Pete’s sake. She’s terrible at throwing parties. Once I convince Low to dump Levi, I’ll throw Raven under the bus as a bonus. Low will be both single and deficient one psychotic best friend. But she’ll have me. Until I tire of her and kick her to the curb, that is.

My phone bleats over the sofa table, and I scoop it up to find a text from Serena.

Hey sis! Miss you! How about I bring a pizza over and we watch a movie?

“Gah!” I lunge into full assault mode and let her know that under no circumstances is she to venture out this way tonight. What with all the protesters and penis pumps lying around. But that’s not what I say, of course. Bad cold! Contagious! Very, very infected. Stay away!

A warm body creeps up behind me as Axel’s scruffy face pops up on my shoulder.

“Serena. Tell her I said hi. She always liked me.”

“Yes, well, she’s older and wiser, and she fully loathes you properly now as she should.” I hit Send.

He steps directly in front of me, and the sheer girth of his chest in that T-shirt mesmerizes me for a moment. It’s been so long since I’ve been this close to a man—Drunk Frat Boy notwithstanding.

“Lexy,” he whispers while pulling that sad puppy dog eye routine, and I instinctually snarl at him. “Serena shouldn’t waste her energy on loathing anybody on this planet.” He hitches a loose hair behind my ear, and my eyes widen while my mind reels with all the possible ways to chop his hand off at the wrist. “Neither should you. I’m not worth the energy.”

For a moment, I consider this. If Axel wasn’t worthy of my love—was he worthy of my hate? “You’re worth it,” I’m quick to assure him. “You’ll always be the one I loathe the most.” A self-satisfied smile comes to my lips. “I must say it sends a ripple of joy through me at the thought of detesting you so openly. Love is timid and weak, but hate gives me something meaty to sink my knife-sharp fangs into.”

He takes a quick breath as his face fills with surprise, something just this side of a laugh dying in his chest. As it should. “I’m still up for you sinking your fangs into any part of me you like.”

I suck in a never-ending breath. “The audacity! I don’t know whether to slap you or deck you.”

Low pops up. “Sounds like things are getting kinky in this corner of the room.” Her brows do that faux waggle I hate so much for many, many reasons, but mostly because it implies that something lascivious is percolating between us. I bear into him with beams of hatred as Raven claps the room to attention.

“Enough chitchat, y’all!” A country twang expels from her, and my hate filled beams switch directly to her. If I detest anything more than waggle brows, it’s a faux country accent that grows thicker with every shot of tequila, and a bottle of tequila is exactly what Raven is waving around. Great. Hopefully, she’ll black out soon and cast a pall on the party. Which by the way I did not sign off on. I believe this was billed to me as an intimate gathering that consisted of just the three of us. It’s clear that math is not the educational focus over at Whitney Briggs. And judging by the wild whoops that keep escaping Raven’s lips, neither is sobriety.

Raven has Chip and Levi scoot the coffee table off to the side and instructs us all to sit in a circle on the floor—my teal diamond silk Oriental rug, that is. Poor Nannette did not ask for all this action tonight.

I sit between Low and Mer the Trollop. I dubbed her that quasi-derogatory moniker officially earlier this summer when Low let me in on the fact Mer cheated on Levi with his twin. With his twin? Really? Those two are practically interchangeable, but Low swears the trollop knew oh so well whose hotdog was plugging her crater.

Raven clears her throat before taking another swig of tequila from the bottle. “As y’all know, I’ve got way too many big brothers in this room to play any games so I’m the official mod, and if any of you get out of line you’ll have me to deal with. This here is serious.” She gives a wink over to Low as if she’s in on whatever is about to transpire. Raven and Low are a dangerous combination. Trust me, I know this after spending five minutes around the two of them together. They’re both seated at opposite ends of our psychotic sphere, so I’m torn as to who to glower at first. Grown-ups sitting cross-legged on a rug as if this were kindergarten. Ten bucks says someone will start to complain about their creaky joints. Both Nannette and I will laugh.

Axel grunts as he leans back on his elbows. “This is tough on my knees. Let’s move it along.”

“Forever complaining.” I sneer. Knew he’d be the first to crack. “It’s nice to know some things never change.” Axel didn’t actually complain that often—but once we were through, it was all that incessant whining—Take me back, Can’t we work things out? Please, Lex, talk to me.

Our eyes latch for a moment, and my stomach squeezes tight. I remember those long hard days after the breakup. Axel Collins tried to rearrange the planets for me, but I wouldn’t have it.

“Spin the bottle!” Raven waves that jewel-toned tequila bottle over her head as if reveling in a victory.

The room fills with groans, mostly from Chip and Mer. I can see how this can get awkward quickly.

Brody shakes his head at the idea. “I can’t get behind this.”

“Oh hush, you.” Raven lands the bottle dead center and proceeds to spin it, and we watch mesmerized as it transports us all back to seventh grade. Only in seventh grade, we were savvy enough to understand you needed two circles and two bottles. Come to think of it, this might be more entertaining than previously anticipated. It lands on Brody, and Raven gives it another spin. Round and round it goes until I’m tempted to pick it up and bash Raven over the head for ever coming up with such a stupid idea. The bottle finally slows and lands on her.

“Well, Tater Tot?” Brody offers an ear-to-ear grin.

Tater Tot. It’s all I can do not to gag on site. I’m betting that was some adorable nickname she earned once upon a rosy childhood after stuffing her potato hole with the deep-fried tots and barfing them all over his shoes. My version does have a certain flare about it.

“Not on your life, Animal.”

Animal? I snarl at her for the lack of imagination. I get it though. Brody Wolf—thus animal.

She spins the bottle again, and it lands on Chip then Mer. Thank goodness. The last thing I want or need is sibling rivalry rearing its ugly head and wrestling moves on my silk rug. They lean in and do the lip-lock nasty, and I keep an extra eye on Levi through the entire event, but he doesn’t even flinch. So it’s not bad enough they’ve canoodled behind closed doors and procured an heir from their infidelity—they now do it right here in the open, defiling my innocent rug with their lack of social decorum. Idiots.

The bottle spins and spins and Levi kisses Low. It didn’t quite land on Low, but Raven’s big toe helped a bit. And bare feet on my pretty Nannette? I don’t care how cute your bright pink painted talons look. I don’t want or need your sweat on my pet. Speaking of pets. Strudel has nestled himself under Axel’s knee. I knew I couldn’t trust his alliance.

Finally, the bottle lands on me. “Action at last.” I cock my head to Axel because I’m secretly hoping it’ll land on Levi. The two of us hit it hot and heavy a few weeks back after I accosted him at the bar. It was all a ruse, of course, as I tried to convince Raven that Levi was my man. And, of course, after that, it was a heavily contested point between Low and me whether or not Levi gifted me some tongue. He didn’t, but I needed to get a rise out of her for putting me in that ridiculous situation to begin with. There’s nothing like driving someone insane over a well-contested fact. I still refer to Levi as The Frencher to this day whenever Low is around.

The bottle lands on Chip then nods and bobs until barely cresting its way into Collins’ territory. Crap.

“Ha!” I balk at the idea. “As if that’s about to happen. I wouldn’t even let you kiss my dog.”

Axel’s lips curl at the tips in that obnoxious way they tend to do when he thinks he has the upper hand. His fingers curl around Strudel’s ear, and my goofy pooch proceeds to lick him over the back of his hand.

My mouth falls open at the sight. Damn traitor. Twice in one night!

Raven snaps up the bottle. “All right, girly, let’s have it. The two of you need to pucker up so we can move this show along.”

“Move it along.” I shoot a barbed look her way. “Move it or I’ll arrange to have those long raven locks chopped off at the ears when you’re passed out drunk on my couch later.”

Mer gasps. “My God, you’re a monster.”

I cut my eyes her way. “Isn’t that the wandering wife calling the kettle a beast in her own home?”

“All right, ladies.” Raven dares to tap me with her prehensile toes. “Keep it clean. Lex, if you’re not going to kiss him, he gets to ask you a question and you have to answer it no matter what.”

“Of course, I do,” I muse. “Who am I to protest the sacred rules of middle school games.” I channel all of my rage over at Axel and those pale gray eyes that keep vying for my attention like some annoying siren. Yes, Axel is drop-dead gorgeous. Yes, my pink parts have morphed into the wild rivers since he’s set foot in the house tonight, and yes, I still blush if I look at him too long, but as for now, rage is the emotion of choice, and I plan to wear it well. “Ask me anything. I dare you.”

The room grows eerily silent. Raven turns down the music via her phone, and even the chanting of the protesters outside fades a notch.

Axel’s affect melts down to something just this side of serious. Gone is that obnoxious know-it-all grin, replaced with the timidity and ferocity of anger mingled with pain. Pain is a perfect emotion for Axel to feel. He should marinate in it until his bones and organs dissolve from the grief of losing me. I bet he’s going to ask if I still pine for him. I bet he’s going to try to invoke the tragic breakup card and dig up a skeleton or two about those crazy hazy days just after we ripped apart from one another. He still feels pain, and deep down he wants me to feel it, too. I know he does.

He tips his chin back enough. Smug move on his part. “When was the last time you slept with anyone?”

My heart stops beating and glares at him right along with the rest of me. Of all the mother-loving questions. The audacity. The pig-headed ego of it all.

Mer flicks a finger in the air. “Anyone? You mean she swings both ways? I thought you were smelling my hair.” Now it’s her glowering at me, and it’s almost comical.

I hold up a hand in her direction, not even quantifying it with a reply. Instead, my eyes are dead set on Axel’s, so very laser-focused on my ex even Strudel starts in on a low-lying growl as if he senses a disturbance in the force. Good boy. Now bite his balls off and I’ll take you to the dog park and let you hump the living daylights out of that Springer Spaniel you’ve had your eye on with the long thick lashes.

“How very crass of you,” I growl out the words, and Low sucks in a breath because she obviously senses imminent danger. “How very tasteless.” I bite the air with my words. “So you want an answer—an accounting of my vaginal wanderings.” His eyes round out showing his discomfort. As much as Axel tries to pass himself off as an everyman, he’s an aristocratic snob through and through. I’m sure having his ex tout the word vagina in front of his high-brow legal eagle friends is appalling to him on some level. Come to think of it, there are enough lawyers in this room that should a Molotov cocktail come crashing through the window, it would be doing a public service for delousing the world of four of them.

“I give.” I toss up my hands, and just as I’m about to spout off some random number, offer up some random name with enough random facts about an entire string of fictitious nights, I can’t seem to do it. Instead, my gaze remains sealed over his. “There was just you.” I try to swallow the truth back down, but it’s impossible. A part of me is hoping that the truth will sting far greater than a lie, but I can already feel this won’t be the case. “The last time I slept with someone was with you—your apartment just after Halloween, exactly six years ago. It was as you suggested, a memorable night.”

The room stiffens as the air grows stale. The thick scent of tequila flirts with my senses, but I’m too paralyzed to move, think, or breathe. Axel’s wide-eyed reciprocation of what I’ve just uttered has him frozen, stone-faced as if it were all too difficult to take in. As if he didn’t want any part of the truth. Maybe the truth was the best route after all.

Mer expels a cross between a groan and a belch. “I call bullshit. I saw the way you tackled Levi. Trust me, honey, you’re no novice. Moves like that are honed over time, not some distant memory from over half a decade ago.”

Levi shakes his head. “I think it’s real. Is it real, Lex?” he says it soft as if talking me down off a sexual ledge. The concern for me on the faces of those around me is almost comical. It’s as if the idea of not committing coitus with another person for six long years was something akin to a felony.

I press my lips tight as I look to Ax. “It’s real.” A thousand different emotions run through me all at once, embarrassment, anger, resentment because I know he can’t say the same, but the most surprising of them all is relief. It’s as if I’ve lanced a wound and let the pus gush out between us. If anyone should see all the ugly parts of me, it’s him.

Mer huffs as if we personally offended her. “So, you think you’ll hit that mattress with Axel again?”

“No.” I don’t let a beat go by without answering. That’s how sure I am. But I never take my eyes off his. “We’re over and done. We crashed and burned with the best of them. We were a disaster.”

The muscles in Axel’s jaw pop in silent protest to my words. He knows I’m right, though. That’s why he’s not contesting it.

Raven unscrews the lid on that bottle and takes a quick swig. “How about we open some gifts?”

After everyone slowly gets back to an upright position and the coffee table is moved into place, the room breaks out into hushed conversations as Raven gets the music going again. Everyone is paired off in twos and threes, and it’s just Axel and me staring at one another from across the room as if we’re about to have a showdown at high noon. Believe you me, if there was a weapon in the house that required gunpowder, I would have lunged for it by now.

Raven herds us all onto the sofas with Levi and Low sitting on the hearth to my left. Strudel sits dutifully at their feet as if vying for front row seats.

Raven plucks at the tag attached to a white gift bag. “First gift of the night is from Brody Wolf.” She nods to him, amused. “Let’s see what Animal thinks is an appropriate engagement gift.”

Low plucks it from her and pulls out a beautiful silver frame with the words Our Wedding inscribed across the top.

“Well done,” I muse. “A frame is a perfect gift for the happy couple.” I’m quick to laud him for his accomplishments because it was Brody who made up my first week’s schedule for me, thus issuing me all the juicy hours. I garnered so much green by the end of the week, I felt as if I was robbing the patrons at gunpoint.

“Next gift”—Raven reads the tag off another gift bag—“is from me.” Her cheeks pinch with color, and she bites down over that cherry lip of hers with a mischievous glint in her eye. “Enjoy!” She practically shoves it at the poor couple.

Low plucks a bunch of tissue paper out of the bag and shakes her head. “I don’t get it. There’s nothing in here.” She turns the bag upside down, and sure enough, it’s empty. Air from an airhead. Sounds perfectly appropriate.

“It must be there.” Raven gives the tissue paper on the floor a quick tug and out rolls a bright pink, thick, slightly curved rubber stick of some sort, and both Mer and Low gasp with delight.

Strudel wastes no time in making a beeline for the shiny pink plastic toy and takes a bite right out of the center of it. And just like that, the hideous thing gyrates to life, violently whipping back and forth as if it had a mind of its own. The room breaks out into hysterics as poor Strudel barks up a storm, but the tiny pink jumping bean dances across the rug and lands between my feet, beating them both in turn. Neither Nannette nor I are amused.

Raven howls with laughter as if she belongs in an insane asylum. Low turns red as a lobster as she laughs and points.

Mer harks out something that sounds more like a sandblaster turning on and off in spurts in lieu of a laugh. “It looks like that dildo has a foot fetish!”

“The what?” I squawk so loud the room erupts an entire notch louder with its riotous laughter. I’ve heard of dildos before, but I’ve never seen one live and in person—and for the love of all things holy, why is it breakdancing over my Manolos? And son of a monkey on fire, Nannette is being sexually defiled!

I pull my feet up on the sofa as if an entire cage full of live rats were just set loose.

“Oh God!” I scream, hopping onto the couch, swatting at it with a throw pillow. “Kill it with fire! Kill it with fire!” I knock over a glass of someone’s chardonnay and let out a howl of my own as I watch the ink splat sink into my beloved silk rug. Not Nannette! A blood-curdling scream escapes me as I summon the courage and stomp the ever-living crap out of the dancing dick that’s set my every last nerve on fire. Finally, I manage to trap it under my heel, and it throbs a slow and vibratory death until Raven yanks it from me and turns it off.

“Enough!” a male voice thunders from the side, and I turn to find Axel standing there with his hands cutting the air as if he were an umpire. “The party’s over. I think it’s time we call it a night.”

Raven clicks her tongue in protest. “But what about the penis cake?”

Both Levi and Chip groan at their naïve, dirty little sister at the thought of the inappropriate confection.

Levi pulls Low to her feet. “There’s no way in hell you’re shoving that down our throats.”

Chip is quick to hug Low goodnight. “He’s right. It was fun. We’ll have to do this again, sans the tequila and blowup dicks.”

The room clears out in a hurry with Raven buried in the kitchen doing who knows what to that crude appendage sticking out of the not-so innocent cake. And I don’t even want to know where one would procure such a treasure.

Axel lingers at the door, glaring at me as if I owed him money.

“If you’re gunning for affection, there might be a protester or two willing to whack you over the head with their signs.” I step forward and peer past him, but there’s not evidence of a single soul out there. It seems even Stumpy has called it quits for the night.

He leans in, and the heat from his chest warms mine. “Hey”—he says it sweetly as if summoning me to look at him and I do—“about what you said—”

“No need to put yourself on the altar. The last penile sword I’ll be falling on will be yours. Besides, I have a new friend who’s dying to get to know me better.” I glance to the broken dildo lying limp on the floor.

He gives a hard frown. “I wouldn’t touch that thing. Your dog had his mouth on it.”

“As did he you.” I offer him a firm shove out the door, and my palm lays flat over his rock-hard abs a moment too long. My God, what is he doing in his spare time? Lifting buildings off their foundation?

“Touché.” He offers a rumble of a laugh as his eyes remain pinned to mine. “You always did have a way with words.”

“And you’ve always had a way with tramps. Be gone.” I’m about to shut the door on his face, but he wedges his shoe in the threshold before I get the chance.

His gaze is unmovable, and as much as my head screams look away, my eyes can’t seem to obey. He shakes his head ever so slightly. “That’s not what happened.”

“It happened. It happened over and over and over again.” I kick his shoe so hard it nearly sends him flying from the porch, and I manage to slam the door shut before I can appropriately appreciate his literal downfall.

I turn to find Raven trying to sop up the wine from Nannette’s silken locks, and she jumps to her feet admiring her handiwork. The dishrag in her hand looks as if it’s been party to a massacre, but miraculously, thankfully, the rug has been spared a stain.

“How did you do that?” I marvel.

“I’m as anal as they get. If it’s not white glove ready, I’m all about taking it down until it glistens and shines. You know what they say. Cleanliness is next to godliness!”

“Yes, well, let’s see if you’ve heard of this saying: Drunkenness is next to I’ll call you an Uber driver.”

“About that.” She shrinks a bit. “There’s been something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about.”

“You like big penises and you cannot lie?” I growl at her for even thinking it was okay to bring that X-rated, frosted pile of flour into my home.

“I like warm beds, and, actually, I can lie.” She ducks her face behind her hands a moment. “You see, remember that last trip I came back from? The corporate excursion to Hawaii? I sort of got fired.”

“What?” My voice razes the ceiling.

“And my roommate sort of took off so I couldn’t make the rent on my apartment. You have no idea how expensive a penthouse is in downtown Jepson.”

“And I couldn’t care either.” I grab her by the shoulders and march her straight for the door.

“But I can be your roommate! I can split the rent and the utilities, and I’ll even scrub the toilets with my toothbrush if you want. I just can’t tell my family until after the wedding.” I push her closer to the exit with each frantic word that expels from her lips. “Wait! Stop.” She writhes and she turns her head to avoid looking at the door readying to meet her fate. “Don’t do it for me. Do it for Low.”

I open the door and give her a generous shove, but she’s dug her heels in, and if I move her one more inch I risk having my hardwood permanently marred by her nasty hoofprints.

“Okay,” I hear myself say. Clearly, I’m going to have to disown my vocal cords after what they’ve done to me tonight and sell them on the black market. “But I’m only doing it for Low.” And my mortgage payment. And maybe for the sheer entertainment value, too. “Under one condition.” I loosen my grip on her shoulders, and she sags into me, her perky little face filled with relief.

“Anything, I swear it. Just say the word and it’s yours!”

“The next time Mustache Lady and her handler bring the pooping pop star to my front lawn you’ll chase them away with a stick.”

“Deal.” She offers my hand a quick shake without hesitating. “And you’ll do something for me in exchange.”

“I’m already doing something for you, you nitwit! That’s how having the upper hand works.” My God, Low’s little bestie is dumb as a brick.

“You’ll do something for me.” Her voice drops to her lower register as she leans in just enough. “You’ll tell me what that rat bastard Axel Collins did to you six long years ago.”

“Why would I tell you anything?”

“Because maybe once you let it all out you’ll stop lighting the world on fire, and you might even start to breathe again. What you need, Lex, is a good old-fashioned best friend. And lucky for you, one just took up residence in your home.”

I stare out at the void Axel left in his wake, at the dense nothingness of a moonless Hollow Brook night. It did feel good letting out the truth of myself imposed celibacy. It felt more than good, and for the life of me, I can’t understand why.

I look back at Raven and frown. “Best friend.” I scoff at the idea. “I don’t remember putting out a casting call.”

“That’s because you’ve built your walls up so high, not even you can see what you need anymore. Now get back in here before you catch your death.” She scoots me in and shuts the door. “It’s time to clean up this mess before we hit the pillow. I don’t get to bed until the house looks unlived in. I’m a neat freak that way.”

“Unlived in? I make it look as if it’s never made contact with a human before.” My eyes shine with a hint of pride.

And I find it hard to believe that Raven is a self-proclaimed neat freak. Go figure. Who knows? We might just get along yet.

But I seriously doubt it.