What I Need

“Yep,” Luke laughs, tilting his head up and smiling big. He throws his arm around Tessa. “Real smooth too.”

I look back at CJ and take his hand, realizing he’s likely to drop it soon if I don’t take it.

And since it would be rude not to take it, I take it. That’s the only reason. There is nothing else driving me. Not the urge to feel his hands or have him touch me the slightest bit.

Nope. That’s not part of the reason at all.

“Hi,” I reply softly, feeling the need to offer up an early explanation for what he should expect out of me during this weekend’s festivities. “Sorry, but I’m probably going to be a raging bitch at this thing tomorrow. Don’t take it personal,” I tell him.

He smiles, half of his mouth lifting up in this adorably sexy way, gives my hand a gentle squeeze, then releases it and steps back, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Sure thing, darlin’.”

I feel my eyes flicker wider.

Darlin’? Did CJ Tully just darlin’ me?

Is this really happening right now? Am I imagining things or did anyone else hear that?

“What?”

I turn my head at the sound of Reed’s sharp, irritated voice, and watch him glare at CJ.

Oh yeah. He did. CJ darlin’d me. Reed heard it so that totally just happened.

Huh. I’m not sure what to make of this.

Reed’s glare slides off CJ and hits me straight on. “Why are you going to be a raging bitch tomorrow? What’s wrong with you?” he asks me.

My anger reawakens. I forget about just getting nicknamed and refocus my attention onto the one person on the entire planet I’m most frustrated with.

“You know exactly what’s wrong with me,” I snap, irritated I even have to explain myself to him.

Stupid.

“Don’t play dumb, Reed,” I add.

“He’s not,” Ben throws out on a chuckle.

I turn my head and watch Ben push to his feet, announcing as he looks toward the dance floor, “I’m going to take Nolan to the restroom. He’s doing a different kind of dance now.”

Luke follows. “I’ll join you.”

The two of them disappear through the crowd.

My gaze lands briefly on CJ. I’m expecting him to step away also and avoid the drama unfolding in front of him.

He doesn’t.

He stands there, not smiling anymore, but he is watching me.

No one else. Not any of his friends or the other people in the crowd.

Me.

What’s . . . happening right now?

“Is this because of Dick?” Reed asks, drawing my head back around. “Are you really going to be pissed at me because I fired him? Come on, Riley. I did you a solid.”

My nostrils flare. He did me a solid?

Oh, my God. He did not just say that.

“His name is Richard,” I hiss, hands clenching into fists and my bottom lip trembling as I turn my shoulders and square off with Reed. “And yes, I’m going to be pissed at you for firing him. And for not letting him come as my date. That was a really crappy move.”

Reed sighs and tosses his hands into the air. “So sorry I didn’t want to pay for some ex-employee of mine to eat salmon and drink tequila shots.”

“He doesn’t even drink tequila!” I yell. “But you know who does? Me! And guess what’s going on your tab, big brother?”

I need to get out of here before I throw a punch. I’m angry, yes, but I’d hate to ruin Reed’s wedding photos by giving him a black eye.

And I’m afraid it might come to that if I don’t get away from him.

Spinning around, I make to storm off and knock straight into CJ, but I don’t let his wall of a chest stop me. No. I steady myself and keep going, marching directly for the bar.

Tequila it is.

“I’ll take some of that,” I announce after claiming a stool at the high top counter. I point a finger at the bottle in the bartender’s hands.

The older man, dressed in a Hawaiian shirt and wearing three different colored leis around his neck, looks over at me, then lifts his other hand holding a blender filled with a lime green concoction.

“A margarita?” he asks.

“No. The tequila,” I specify. “Just set the bottle down when you’re finished with it. I’ll take it from there.”

Laughing, he turns away and continues pouring into the blender.

He thinks I’m kidding.

I am definitely not kidding.

My brother is a jerk. My ex-boyfriend is an asshole. I’ve cried way too much over the past week.

I can totally handle a bottle of tequila right now.

“How about you start off with a shot and see how that goes?”

I turn my head at the sound of the deep voice next to me. CJ steps up to the bar, giving me his full attention.

My stomach clenches. I sit up taller on my stool.

Did he follow me over here?

What? Why in the world would he do that? And why would I think it?

Of course he didn’t follow me over here. He’s just thirsty. Look how big he is. He probably has to drink constantly to keep from passing out from dehydration.

I watch CJ continue to stare at me, his eyes bright and eager as he waits expectantly for a response because . . . shit. He asked me a question. What was it? Something about drinking and going somewhere with him?

Oh, my God . . . is that what he asked me? Does he want to take me somewhere?

I lick my lips, swallow whatever saliva I have left as I stare into his eyes, and respond with a confused, “Huh?”