But, instead of feeling those soft, warm lips p
ressed against mine, I feel the complete opposite. Ice fucking cold. And hard. My eyes open in confusion to find her glass wedged between us. I raise an eyebrow. Cockblocked by a cup. That’s a first.
“I don’t kiss on the first date,” she says, with an edge to her voice. I hear my brother’s hyena laugh above all the raucous, and I flip him off, without even bothering to look in his direction, but Mollie looks past my shoulder with a curious expression.
“Good thing this isn’t a date,” I say, bringing her attention back to me.
“You don’t even know me.”
“Even better,” I quip, not missing a beat. At that, she laughs.
“I’ll make you a bet,” she relents, with a devious glint in her eye.
“I’m listening,” I say, folding my arms across my chest. I’m suspicious, but I’m listening.
“Give me your beer,” she starts, with a nod toward the counter. “I bet I can down both glasses before you can take two shots. As long as you give me a head start,” she adds. “The only rule is that we can’t touch each other’s drinks. If you win, I’ll kiss you.”
“And if you win?” I ask out of pure curiosity. There’s no fucking way this tiny ass little girl can out-drink me. Especially when all I have to drink is two measly shots to her full glasses of beer.
“If I win, I’m going to walk out of this bar, and you’re going to let me.”
“That’s it?” I scoff. “Not even streaking or jumping into the lake naked?”
“Nah,” she says easily, lifting a shoulder. “I’m easy.”
“Somehow, I doubt that,” I say, and I can’t deny that the blush creeping up her neck turns me on.
“Ephraim!” I shout. “Give me two shots of Johnny Walker.”
Mollie bites her lip to hide her smile as Ephraim sets the two shot glasses down in front of us.
“Ladies first,” I say, giving her the head start she requested. She brings the pilsner glass to her lips and tips the contents into her mouth, while looking me dead in the eye. Impressively, she downs the entire thing in about fifteen seconds, and I have to fight the urge to adjust the growing bulge in my pants. She’s better than I would have guessed, but there’s still no way I won’t beat that time.
Giving her a cocky grin, I toss back the shot like it’s nothing. She smirks right back, but before I can grab the other, she flips her empty glass upside down, effectively trapping mine inside. Shooting her a confused look, I go to lift the glass, but she stops me.
“Ah, ah, ah,” she tsks. “Remember the rule? We can’t touch each other’s glass.”
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
Mollie takes her sweet time drinking the second glass, my glass, knowing I can’t do fuck to win now. She fucking played me.
“Thanks for the drinks, Cam,” she says, wiping the corner of her lips with the tip of her finger.
“Okay.” I bob my head. “I see you, little trickster.”
And then she’s walking away from me.
She walks away from me.
Before I even realize I’m doing so, I’m prowling after her. Prowling might not be the best description—more like scurrying. Like a lost fucking puppy. Who is this chick, and why do I need her to want me?
I’m the picture of cool, calm, and collected as I saunter away from Camden Hess. As if I didn’t just break up with my fake boyfriend and lose my job in the same weekend. As if the sight of this cocky, tattooed bad boy didn’t set my insides on fire despite those things. He’s gorgeous. And intimidating. And, I can only assume, a player. He’s everything I don’t need in a boyfriend, but he’s exactly what I need tonight.
My parents roped me into coming up for a family trip before summer is over. Of course, Tucker was supposed to come with me. But when I got the news that the magazine I’ve been working for since before I graduated college was no longer going to publish a print edition—therefore, leaving me jobless—I came home lost and upset, not to mention recovering from a gnarly bout of strep throat. Imagine my surprise when I found Tucker cozied up to another woman on our couch. His assistant, no less. How cliché, right? It didn’t matter that we weren’t really together. We hadn’t ever talked about hooking up with people and how that fits in with our…unique situation. He wasn’t straightforward with me. Needless to say, he was no longer invited.
Telling my parents that we “broke up” would open the door to questions I don’t want to answer, so I spilled my guts to my friend, Sutton, who lives in River’s Edge. We met when we were kids on the bunny slope and stayed in touch ever since. We planned to get day drunk and find some gorgeous locals to get my mind off real life. Turns out, Rum Runners and boating don’t mesh well with Sutton, so she’s laid up at home. I hung around until she kicked me out and then went back to our cabin until my parents and brothers started with their barrage of questions. I’m twenty-two. I don’t have to explain myself. But, I don’t feel like rehashing the ugly details just yet.
If I’m being honest, I’m embarrassed—about losing my job and Tucker—even though I know neither one was my fault. They’re not a reflection of me. Our relationship wasn’t really a relationship so much as an understanding between two people. I wasn’t in love with Tuck, so it’s not like I’m heartbroken. Not in that way, anyway. He was my best friend more than a boyfriend, so the betrayal still stung. It almost made it worse, somehow.