A Perfect Ten

I could hate him for making me jealous of a bunch of nasty sluts who absolutely wouldn’t stop pawing at him, though. I wanted to slap the smirk right off the little witch who was leaning in to nuzzle her nose against his neck. I itched to stalk over there, yank her away by the hair and nuzzle her nose against the first wall I found...as hard as I could.



Okay, fine. I had a whole boatload of issues instead of just a couple. Sue me.



But, ooh, was that bastard sliding his hand over the other one’s ass while the first one sucked on his neck? He was! Grr. I hated him so much.



Wishing Oren Tenning a long, slow, painful venereal disease-ridden death, I glanced away. “He is such a freaking man-whore.”



Both Quinn and Zoey glanced at me, their gazes full of sympathy, which made me want to pull my hair and scream, because I also hated how so many people knew how much of a crush I had on Oren. It wasn’t fair.



“That’s it,” I announced. “I’m doing it.”



Zoey and Quinn looked at each other, frowning in confusion, before turning back to me. “Doing what?” they asked together.



I blew out a breath. “I’m living again. I... I...” Glancing frantically around the place, I paused on the first guy I spotted. “I’m going to go talk to him.”



Zoey glanced over and winced. “Him? Are you sure...?”



I gave a very decisive nod. “I’m positive.”



“Who is he?” Quinn wondered, eyeing the guy censoriously. He was another friend of my brother’s and was probably guessing how many times Noel would kill the guy for even talking to me.



I was thinking Noel had way too many freaking friends.



“No clue,” I said, not caring who he was at all. “How about I go ask him.”



To be on the safe side, I snatched up the piña colada Blaze had abandoned at our table for a little liquid courage and gulped it.



Slamming the empty glass down, I let out a refreshed breath. “Please excuse me while I get my groove on.” Standing up, I threw a flirty little wave at Zoey and Quinn—or Zwinn, as I was going to call them henceforth—and I turned to make my way toward Mr. Lucky, whoever he was.



Except I couldn’t spot him anywhere. Crap. Where had he gone? Didn’t he know he was a possible candidate for clearing the cobwebs from my vagina? My own personal cobweb duster.



“Um...” Zoey cleared her throat before she helpfully offered, “He went that way.”



I jerked around to scowl at her. Then I pointed at Quinn. “Stop laughing. My groove’s been on an extended vacation.”



He immediately pursed his lips tight, holding in a grin. I narrowed my eyes and waited a tick to make sure another laugh didn’t slip out. Then I glanced at Zoey. She pointed me in the right direction. I nodded my thanks and turned that way, grateful when I spotted my possibly first one-night-stand man straight ahead.



I closed in on my target, a determined woman on a mission. I was going to get my life and my girl power back tonight if it was the last thing I did. Fuck Sander Scotini and what he’d turned me into. And fuck Oren Tenning for rejecting me. I wasn’t going to let those assholes get me down.



The stranger’s back was to me as he talked to two other guys. I’m not sure why I’d singled him out. Maybe because he was the antithesis of Oren. Shorter, pale-headed, not at all sporty-looking in a polo shirt and dark gray pleated slacks. I doubted Oren even owned a pair of slacks.



With one last glance back at Zwinn, I sent them a “watch this shit” grin and plowed ahead until I rammed into my target’s back, making him lurch forward and dump the lager he was holding all over the front of his pretty yellow polo shirt.



“Oh my God. I’m so sorry.” Forcing myself not to snicker in triumph, I grabbed up a handful of napkins from the table next to us. “Are you okay? I can’t believe I did that.” Or that I’d nailed him so perfectly.



He turned to me slowly, his face molted with rage, only for his expression to clear when he saw me. I batted my lashes and cooed out my sympathy as I took in his soaked shirt. “Oh, you poor thing. Let me get that for you.” I dabbed at his chest a few times—not a bad chest, but not the best either—before I bent in front of him to sop up the spilled beer on the floor by his feet. Once I had the floor reasonably dry, I stayed kneeling but lifted my face to meet his gaze.



“Did I get everything?” I’m not sure if it was how close my face was to his junk, the breathiness in my voice, or the complete innocence I tried to blink into my eyes, but the guy fell for it, hook, line, and sinker.