“I don’t like you right now.”
“I bet you don’t even like yourself right now,” he says. “You’re not an asshole, Aiden. I get it… It’s weird to feel something other than the need to fuck, but don’t be a dick just because you don’t know how to handle it.”
“You act like I’m in love with her or something.”
“Or something,” Asher says simply. “I think, for the first time ever, you can’t get someone out of your head, and you don’t like it. I just heard you rant over a girl for more than ten minutes for the first time in our lives. I think that means something.”
“I think you don’t know shit,” I snap, and he laughs. “I have more important things to do and worry about than Shelli Adler. I have a new start, and I’m not ruining it by getting involved with someone who, hello, doesn’t even like me.”
“Whatever you say,” he says offhandedly. “But when you guys hook up again—and believe me, you guys will since she is still very much into you, because if she weren’t, then she wouldn’t have jumped on the defense so quickly.”
“She hates me.”
“Whatever, dude, but remember, don’t be a dick. Don’t be that guy.”
He’s on something. Probably those hippie-dippie brownies or something. “I gotta go.”
“Great talk!”
“Yeah, whatever.”
I hang up on his laughter as I get out of the truck and lock it up. Asher has no clue what he is talking about. Do I think about Shelli? Of course I do. She’s hard to forget. The things we did in bed, the way we touched, and then the way she looked at me with that defiant little tilt of her chin? Not even the pope could forget that. She’s unforgettable. But that doesn’t mean I want to shack up and make her mine. I’d love to sleep with her again, but it wouldn’t be smart. I’ve already made some bad choices—no need to make any more.
Though, man, if there is anyone I want to make bad choices with, it’s her.
That wasn’t a smart thought.
I shake my head as I head inside my mom’s wine bar. It’s a really upscale joint in Nashville’s Gulch. The place is packed like always, and the ambiance is pretty damn sexy. Mom wanted it to be as if you were sitting in a fancy barn illuminated only by candlelight. She succeeded hands down, and this was just voted one of Nashville’s most romantic spots. The food is supposed to be pretty damn good, and the wine is, of course, perfection. Tables are everywhere, some for four, some only for two. There are booths around the perimeter of the room and a huge bar in the middle of the floor, right beside the stage that holds a piano. There is someone setting up, but my sister immediately steals my attention.
“Hey, the girl replacing me is running late. Take a seat at the bar. I’ll be done soon.”
Then she’s off again. She’s been working here since she was sixteen. She started off as a hostess, but when she turned eighteen, she became a waitress. She makes damn good money and loves it. I think she’ll be the one to take over for Mom when the time comes. For the longest time, we all thought Asher would, but he wasn’t interested in Mom’s wine empire the way Stella is. She loves it. Can’t blame her either. Mom’s business is great.
As I sit at the bar, a glass appears before Stella winks at me. Then she’s off again. From the looks of the stellar red in my glass, I assume it’s merlot. I take a big sip, and I am impressed with myself when I’m right. Go me. I take another sip just as Stella appears in front of me behind the bar.
“Mom told me to tell you that Elli had to push back the party. She wanted to wait till y’all had a two-day break. I think that’s in a week or two, I don’t know,” she says quickly as she pours four wide-mouth glasses. “Call Mom.”
“I’ll get right on that,” I say since that party is the last thing I want to deal with right now. I look around the bar. “This place is poppin’.”
“Oh yeah, it’s a good night. Wish Mom would let me work past eight. She’s killing me.”
“You’re a baby, Stella.”
When she flips me off, I grin as she rushes to deliver her drinks. The crowd gets a little sexier after eight, which is why Mom doesn’t like Stella here then. I get it, but Stella doesn’t. She just wants to work. I lean back in my chair as a beautiful melody comes from the stage. I lean on my elbows so I can see, and I don’t expect what is before me.
In a tight black dress that hugs her thighs in the most delectable way, Shelli moves her fingers along the keys as she sings like an angel. I don’t know the song, but I also don’t care. It’s stunning. She’s stunning. Her hair is down over her shoulders in big wide curls, while her makeup has been applied to accentuate her eyes. Not that her blue eyes need it; they shine no matter what. When she hits a high note, her eyes shut, her lashes kissing her cheeks, and she captivates me.