“Finally locking down the stalker?”
Yup. Knew it. “We came as friends,” I groan out for the millionth time. About a hundred thousand of my “We’re just friends” were just for Lake. He is nonstop.
“Sexy-time friends?” he suggests, and I ignore him as I throw my bag. I get two in the hole and one on the board and completely miss the fourth.
When I meet Wes’s gaze, he’s stunned. “Oh, you’re good, good?”
“I told you I was!” I yell to him, and he shakes his head.
“Yup, total sexy-time friends,” Lake decides, and I glance over at him.
“What?”
“You guys have been grinning at each other since you got here. You’ve both got these dreamy looks on your faces. When are you going to give in and let him get a piece of your cake?”
I blink. I’m not sure why he chose cake as a euphemism for my vagina, but instantly, I think he knows. But there’s no way he knows I make cupcakes. I really need to be honest. “For one, he doesn’t do relationships, and I don’t want a fling.”
“Why not? He’s gorgeous,” he says while throwing his bags. “Especially with those blue eyes and busted nose. He looks all dangerous.” Lake has no clue the weight of his words. Wes is dangerous. Downright dangerous. But I don’t say that. Instead, I watch Lake miss the board completely, which is why I hate being on his team. He only plays to be a part of the game. He doesn’t care or even want to win.
I want to win.
“Of course he is. But I’ve told you. I want more than just a fling.”
“You’re so boring. Wasting all that gorgeousness. You could be the best ho.”
I pause. “Is that a compliment?”
“Absolutely,” he says with a wink, and I roll my eyes before looking over to see Wes and Lake’s “friend” getting ready to go.
While I want a relationship, Lake does not. He likes fucking around and loves when he finds an older man who wants to spoil him. Adam is just that. In his fifties, married, and getting plowed by my friend. It’s tragic, but at this point, I’m used to the men he brings around.
Wes throws the first bag right in the hole, and I cheer loudly. He grins over at me, his eyes dancing, before he throws the other three in the hole. Thank God he’s good, and we spank Lake and Adam. I meet Wes in between the two boards, and we high-five with both hands.
“Thank God. I’ll have to invite you more often.”
“I’m down,” he says, wrapping an arm around my neck. I lean into his side as we look out at the party. It’s huge, with lots of people. Some I know, but a lot I don’t. Games are set up everywhere, and I know even more are inside, but to the left of the cornhole area are lights and a DJ, who is playing music. Lake goes all out with his parties, and I love coming to them. But I have to admit, coming with Wes has made it way better.
When the acoustic version of “I Wanna Dance with Somebody” reaches me, I smile.
“What are you grinning about?” Wes asks, and I meet his gaze. “Wanna kick some more ass?”
I lick my lips. “Actually, I love this song. Would you want to dance?”
Something moves over his face. “With you?”
I grin at the friskiness on his face. “Yes.”
“Abso-fucking-lutely.”
I can’t help it. I laugh so hard as he threads his fingers through mine, walking backward toward the makeshift dance floor, leading me along. He pulls me into his arms, and I lay my head on his chest as we sway to the music. His heart’s cadence is soothing as we sway, his arms holding my waist as mine rest under my chin and against his chest. He smells divine, so manly, and I could get drunk off his scent. One song turns into two, and before I know it, we’ve danced to almost four songs. I feel so safe in his arms.
But unfortunately, my watch starts to go off.
I pull back to see it’s my timer to leave. I set it to remind myself to go home so I can get some sleep before tomorrow’s cupcake shift. I don’t want to be a zombie, making Harry Potter goodies. “Damn it. I gotta go.”
I meet his gaze to see Wes bringing his brows in. “Huh?”
“I have a curfew,” I say, and then I realize that sounds so childish.
He grins. “No shit?”
I laugh, shaking my head. “Not like that. I made it myself. I have to get up early, so I set my timer to remind me of that.”
“Very responsible.”
I shrug. “I have goals, but you can stay, Uber—”
“No way. Can you take me home?”
“Absolutely.”
His hand moves into mine, and I have a feeling it’s going to be real hard to watch him get out of my car and go into his place.