Tyler
I LOOKED AROUND the club. Upstairs was quiet and demure. Down here was loud and outspoken.
It was her all over again.
I took the bottle of beer from the cute bartender. “Thanks.”
“No problem. Any time.” She smiled and gave me a nod, being sure to keep eye contact.
Pushing the twenty her way, I read the gleam of interest in her eyes. “Keep the change.”
Her smile widened. “Let me know when you need another. I’ll be here all night.”
With a nod of my own, I shoved the lime into the neck of the bottle and took a swig, relishing the tang of the cool liquid on the back of my throat.
It had been a long fucking night.
The place was packed and the thump of the music reverberated against the walls. Turning around, I leaned back against the bar and scanned the row of low benches that separated the bar area from the dance floor.
I wasn’t looking for her.
I wasn’t.
Finishing the beer in four gulps, I twisted and lifted my empty bottle. The blonde bartender caught my piercing gaze and came rushing over. “The same?” she asked.
Before I could answer, a hand slapped my shoulder. “Make that two shots of your best tequila, cutie.”
“Sure thing.” She winked and quickly grabbed two shot glasses from beneath the bar.
A smile pierced my lips and I turned to see Grayson. Same man bun. Same laughing eyes. Same ego. The difference—now he’d earned the right. He was a very successful financial wizard and an all-around stand-up guy.
Whereas I’d gone off to law school, Grayson had gotten his M.B.A. and formed his own investment group.
Unlike me, he didn’t go to work for his family, though, and he was richer than fuck without their money, so were the other guys, actually.
Christian had gone to college and was headed down the campaign trail. He worked for the county in some supervisory position with aspirations of being Mayor, then Governor, and who the fuck knew what else.
Julian went to medical school and now practiced in San Francisco. He and I were on the same party circuit there.
Gray and I bumped shoulders and clapped backs. “Dude,” I remarked. “Good to see you. Thanks for coming to get me.”
He shook his head. “It was me or Uber, right?” he joked, “I still can’t believe Wilhelmina kicked you out of the car. What I wouldn’t pay to see it.”
In jest, I arched one eyebrow. “Is it too late for me to call for that Uber?”
He reached for one of the shots and handed it to me. “Not a chance. You’re stuck with me for the night.”
I took the offered glass. “What about your wife?”
His smile was wicked. “Tabitha is going to take the baby and go to her parents.”
“Hope I didn’t piss her off too much by interrupting your plans.”
He grabbed the second shot. “No, not at all. Her sister’s in town and she was glad to have a reason to skip out on dinner with my father and spend time with her.”
The music seemed to get louder or maybe I was feeling older. “That was pretty cool of her.”
Clinking my glass, he smirked. “Being married isn’t half bad, birthday boy, maybe you should give it a try,” and on the last word, he winked a knowing wink. The joke was one I wouldn’t live down.
“Never,” I winced and opened my mouth. Expensive tequila burned down my throat and pooled in my gut. It landed in a splash of flames that licked and jumped, igniting in my veins. Head to foot, a rush of irritation washed through me. Anger seeping all the way to my bones.
Fucking Wilhelmina.
Smiling wide, Grayson blew out a satisfied breath as he slammed the empty down on bar. “I called my old man on my way over here to cancel dinner and feel him out.”
My fingers gripped the glass. “And?”
Mr. Albert Dane, Jr. had remained the primary attorney for California Jane after the death of his father. He was also my mentor and a man I respected.
“My father confirmed that Wilhelmina had contacted him and he wants you to go by his place Monday before the trust reading. There are a few things he wants to discuss.”
Still uncertain about everything, I gave him a grateful nod, anyway.
“Hey, cutie,” Gray called. “Another round.” The sound of his voice told me it was officially party time.
Turned out, Grayson had taken an Uber and we’d be Ubering home. I was cool with that. After the second shot, he asked. “So, are we staying here or leaving?”
The guy was smart. He knew why I was here. That I was waiting for her. The problem, I shouldn’t be. “Leaving,” I finally told him.
He motioned for the bartender. “Hey, cutie.”
She lifted her head.
“We need the check.”
“Already?” she sighed.
He tossed his Platinum card on the bar. “Yeah, it’s this guy’s birthday,” he slapped my shoulder, “And I have to take him out and show him what a good time is.”
She took the Amex. “Where are you two going? Maybe I can meet up with you later.”
“To Moxies.”
“In Calistoga?” she asked, as if astonished.
I rolled my eyes. Calistoga versus St. Helena was really getting old.
He signed the receipt she’d given him and tucked his card back in his wallet. “That’s the place.”
The chatter went on. Grayson was a flirt. Married or not, he never quit. The difference was it never went any further than harmless chatter. He was a dedicated husband in a way I had to admire. He loved his wife and she really was his Queen.
The music changed, the dance floor clearing. My gaze wandered, curious as to why.
Then I saw her.
Her.
Paris Fairchild.
And she was smiling.
She looked like she was happy.
Having fun.
And that’s when I remembered how we used to be. How we’d once been like that. Right then, all the hate I had bottled up seemed to vanish.
She.
Was.
Beautiful.
And with another man.
I tried not to growl, but I couldn’t help it. Jealousy ate me up from the inside as I watched her.
She was swaying her hips with the same guy she’d been photographed with. He was hugging her waist from behind and grinning into her neck like he was the luckiest guy in the world.
At that moment, I thought he just might be.
I should have known she’d be here with the rich guy she’d been sucking face with in the public eye. That Louis Vuitton wearing douche with a vineyard the size of Napa and a stick up his skinny ass.
Unable to stop from scowling, I looked away. I even breathed through my nostrils so I wouldn’t lose my shit.
What did she see in him, anyway?
The guy wasn’t even involved in his family’s vineyard. In fact, I’d bet every dime I had that he’d never even gotten his hands dirty. His family’s business was run by a bunch of suits who produced millions for them.
Whatever.
That jealousy pumped faster through my veins.
It was unwanted.
Unable to resist looking, I allowed my gaze to drift back her way. That’s when I saw that she was looking right at me.
Staring.
Son of a bitch—she knew I was here.
Tonight’s public display of affection was for me.
Why?
To hurt me?
She couldn’t still think I cared. She couldn’t still care herself. Yet, if it was true—I could be wrong on both counts.
I should have turned and walked out the door. Right then. Put this game to an end, but I didn’t. Instead, my feet were moving before I knew what I was doing.
I hated games, but I hated to lose even more.
Weaving swiftly through the crowd, I could feel my pulse pounding everywhere in my body like a jackhammer—behind my eyelids, down my spine, and even in my fucking balls.
The two of them moved in tempo to the beat of the music. All hands and bodies. And here I was a powder keg ready to blow them apart.
Why the fuck did I care who she was with?
She must have been happy with this guy or why would she be with him? Yet, in all the pictures I’d seen of her with him, her spirit seemed faded, that fight I knew her to have, dimmed. Her sparkle, clouded.
A hand clamped my shoulder. “Where the hell are you going?”
I shoved out of Gray’s hold. The chilled asshole motherfucker had no fucking clue. Causing a scene was never his thing. Just mine. “To get her the fuck out of my head,” I admitted.
“Ty, not this way,” he reasoned. “It’s not a good idea.”
“Why not?” I gritted out over the music.
He leaned back a bit as if he was afraid I might punch him. “Because you’re only going to piss her off, and Wilhelmina might not have been too far off the mark about California Jane needing to merge with Highway 128 in order to stay afloat.”
I blinked in shock.
Was he serious?
My legacy. My fucking legacy was at stake. And he had joined the bandwagon and thought Paris Fairchild was the answer to saving it?
He had to be out of his mind.
I wanted him to be.
Before I could overthink it, Paris spun around on those high heels of hers. Looked like she’d traded in those Converse. I watched as she took Frenchy’s hand and led him off the dance floor. Still in shock, I couldn’t believe it when they strode through a door that read, “Private.”
After all the therapy, everything I’d done to change, I felt like I was seventeen again and ready to blow.
“Ty?” Gray prompted.
Drawing in a breath, I let it out. “I’m good,” I told him. “How about you call for an Uber? I’m going to take a piss and I’ll meet you out front.”
“You sure you’re good?”
I nodded and raised my palms. “All good. Swear. Just need to get out of here.”
I had every intention of using the restroom and then leaving, but I couldn’t pass the door marked private without opening it and taking a look.
Like I belonged, I twisted the unlocked knob. It was dark inside but I could make out two bodies. A male and a female. She was bent over a desk and he was hovering above her, his lips inches from touching her.
Something snapped inside me. Ten years’ worth of anguish bubbled to the surface. I knew this was well-earned payback toward me but that didn’t make it any easier to swallow. He was not touching what was mine when I was less than ten feet away.
Mine.
What the hell?
Feeling like I was exploding, I couldn’t hold back. “Get. The fuck away from her,” I hissed, striding in their direction. Ready to peel the guy from her body if I had to.
They both jumped, as if caught doing something they shouldn’t be doing. That’s when another door opened and the lights flickered on and that voice I knew all too well said, “Hello.”
My head snapped to the right.
Fuck.
It couldn’t be.
Or could it?
It was.
The silhouette of a beautiful woman, no longer a girl, in a black silk dress with a V slit down to her navel and another up to her thigh was standing tall—over on the other side of the room.
Like a blaze of fire, Paris filled the doorway. Her hands on her hips and her chin notched up in challenge.
I jerked my head back toward the table, which was actually not a desk as I had thought. Much to my surprise, standing there was the rich douche with the bartender from upstairs.
Male and male.
No female.
Hey, in my defense, it was dark.