Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 98048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Uh-oh. What on earth has Alana gotten herself into?
I’m the one who’s now fascinated with her beverage. My gaze drops to my glass as I pretend I’m seeing ice cubes for the very first time.
Alana quirks up a brow. “You spying on us now, Lauren?”
Ren’s jaw tightens. “No. But I was with Danny yesterday, and he said he took a date to the boardwalk the other night and saw you and Wyatt on the beach. And then last week, Shari was driving past your house at like five in the morning and saw Wyatt’s truck parked outside. So …” Ren trails off deliberately, waiting for Alana to fill in the blanks.
But Ren ought to know better. Alana is not and has never been one to explain herself. She simply stares at Ren as if to say, are you done?
On the stage, Mase is singing an original song about a young couple having sex on the beach at dawn while seagulls squawk overhead.
Despite my better sense, I get involved. “Come on, Ren, you know it’s not like that with them.” Or is it? Truthfully, I have no idea what Alana’s up to. She insists she’s not hooking up with Wyatt, but who knows with that one.
“Do I know that?” Ren bites out, voicing my own doubts. “Alana sure as shit isn’t denying it.”
“Because she doesn’t feel she needs to defend herself over an accusation so ridiculous,” I respond with confidence I’m not sure I should have. “She and Wyatt aren’t hooking up. They’re friends. Friends go to the beach together. Sometimes they get drunk and crash at each other’s houses. Big deal.”
“Are you kidding me, Gen? You of all people should be backing me up right now.” Ren gapes at me. “You used to cut a bitch for even looking at Evan. There was one time you didn’t speak to Steph for days after she kissed him in a game of spin the bottle.”
“Well, I was young and stupid back then,” I say lightly.
“Oh, really?” she challenges. “So you’re saying you wouldn’t care if one of your friends was taking moonlit strolls on the beach with Evan?”
“Wouldn’t bat an eyelash,” I say, shrugging. “He might be my ex, but I don’t own him. He’s allowed to have friends, and it’s perfectly cool if he’s friends with my friends.”
A smug gleam lights Ren’s eyes. “Yeah? Then I guess you won’t mind if I ask him to dance.”
Ask him to what? But she’s already gone, sauntering off toward—
Evan.
He’d just entered the dimly lit bar with Tate and their buddy Chase in tow.
As always, he senses my presence before our gazes even meet. His shoulders tense, chin shifting to the side before his head follows suit. And then those magnetic dark eyes lock onto mine and I can feel the change in the air. The electricity.
I’m helpless to stop the rush of heat that fills my body and tingles between my legs. Evan looks good enough to eat. Dark-green cargo pants encase his long legs. A white band shirt stretches across his broad chest. I squint in the darkness and realize it’s one of Jordy’s shirts, with the Three Little Birds name and trademark logo scrawled on the front. His hair’s swept back from his chiseled face, emphasizing those gorgeous, masculine features. It’s infuriating. Why does he have to be so hot?
Ren wasn’t making idle threats. Her curvy frame sashays toward my ex-boyfriend, and she takes his hand and gives it a teasing tug. I can’t hear what she’s saying to him, but it earns her a lopsided smile and a nod of surrender, as Evan allows her to drag him to the dance floor.
“Bitch,” I growl under my breath.
Alana barks out a laugh.
“Shut it,” I order, pointing a finger at her. “You’re the reason she’s out there proving a point.”
And Ren’s definitely making a statement. As the sultry reggae beat thuds in the bar, she loops her arms around Evan’s neck and starts moving to the beat.
I breathe through my nose and pretend I don’t care that Evan’s hands are resting on another woman’s hips. In his defense, he seems to be trying to keep at least a foot of distance between their bodies. And he doesn’t look very comfortable. But still. He could’ve said no.
Wearing identical looks of amusement, Tate and Chase wander over to our table. I notice Alana stiffen at Tate’s approach. They greet each other with nods, as if they’re complete strangers—when we all know they’ve been sleeping together for months now.
“What’s going on there?” Tate nods his blond head toward the dance floor.
“Ren’s pissed at me so she’s retaliating by pissing off Gen,” Alana explains, then takes a long swig of beer, draining the rest of the bottle.
“How does that make any sense?” Chase looks confused.
“It doesn’t,” I grind out through clenched teeth. My fists are clenched too, because Ren’s hands are veering dangerously close to Evan’s ass. Would I be breaking my good girl vows if I marched over there and dragged her away from him by the hair? Probably.