I know I sure as fuck don’t feel guilty about it, although I am a little relieved that Avril seems to be taken with the club.
“Andrew… the three of us have the strongest base of a friendship that anyone could imagine,” I point out. “We’re business partners. We admire and respect one another. We support each other. While I really didn’t want Avril in that environment, mainly because she was fresh off a breakup, it’s done and I’m frankly a little glad. I’m glad you’ve both seen a part of my world that you knew about, but never really understood. But since Avril is going back, and inviting you, I think she understands it quite clearly. There is no wrong within that club. And I think she proved to you that she can leave that behind and step back into our normal routine outside of that place.”
With a huge sigh, Andrew scrubs his hands over his face. His gaze comes back to mine, and I can still see the warring within. “I hear you, and I’ll think on it. But thanks for talking to me about it. Knowing you’re not all that weirded out is a little stabilizing.”
This relieves me… the fact his stance is opening. I think he’s in for a world of hurt if he denies to himself that he wants Avril. He may not act on it, and probably won’t, but he can’t pretend it’s not there. That would not be good for anyone.
I give Andrew a confident smile so he won’t ever guess I have my own turmoil. While I’m not weirded out and don’t feel an ounce of guilt, I am most definitely feeling something. Thank fuck Andrew doesn’t ask me my exact feelings because I wouldn’t be able to lie to him.
God fucking help me… I want Avril, too.
While I know Andrew is probably going to go home by himself tonight, because he just doesn’t have it within him at this point to accept his feelings, there is no way in hell I’ll be able to stay away from The Wicked Horse knowing Avril’s going back.
I don’t intend to act on anything. At the most, I’ll watch from the anonymity of The Apartment. But I’m very much looking forward to watching Avril continue to expand her horizons.
CHAPTER 7
Avril
I don’t bother with much more than a cursory glance around at the people in The Social Room—the area just outside the entrance lobby of The Wicked Horse. While I’ve learned many things about myself over the last few days, one of the most enlightening is that I’m not a mingler.
The Social Room is where people come to engage in conversation, flirt, and have a cocktail before they get down to the business of what they really came here for. I’d observed many people in this room that first night, and what I realized is it’s crowded with those who aren’t sure what they want. It could be they’re nervous, or maybe they’re undecided.
But in reality, it’s for those who don’t have fearless initiative, and that’s something that I’ve never had a short supply of.
Or… it’s for people who are looking for their prey, I think as my eyes catch a tall figure standing at the end of the bar, and I realize it’s Dane.
He’s nursing what looks to be whiskey while his eyes sweep the room hungrily, no doubt looking for his next conquest.
Not that it would be much of a conquest. I can’t imagine any woman would ever say no to him. He’s even more gorgeous at thirty-nine than in his college days, although he still wears his dark hair a bit long and messy on top with that Tony Stark-esque goatee. The fact there’s a little silver in the beard at the corners of his mouth and at his temples only makes him sexier in my opinion.
I consider ignoring him, but then his eyes meet mine and his lips curl up in a smile of recognition. My stride falters. Before I know it, I’m heading his way. It’s probably necessary for us to have a talk if we’re going to be frequenting the same place to get our rocks off.
Dane gets the bartender’s attention as I approach. I know by the time I reach him, he’ll have ordered me a red wine.
“Fancy meeting you here,” I say as I put my clutch on the bar top, followed by my elbow as I turn to face Dane. There aren’t any stools at the bar, so as to encourage people to move around and engage.
Dane’s eyes travel down my body, and I have to wonder what he thinks of the slinky sapphire dress that comes barely past my ass and has a plunging neckline. He’s only ever really seen me in business suits at the office and jeans on the weekends, minus an occasional evening or cocktail dress for a formal event.
When his eyes meet mine, he says, “Nice dress.”
“You like?” I ask cheekily as I do a slow spin.
I get immense satisfaction over the darkening of his hazel eyes as I come around to face him, as he’s just found out there’s virtually no back to the dress.
“Look at you, Avril,” he says in a husky, appreciative voice. “You’ve fucking blossomed.”
I can’t help but laugh and smack him on the chest before I chide him. “Don’t make me self-conscious. You know this isn’t my usual fashion statement.”
“You’re definitely making a statement,” he commends, and the resulting flush of pleasure from the appreciation in his tone surprises me. I’ve never cared before if Dane or Andrew thought me attractive.
Okay, wait.
That’s not exactly true. There was a time when I’d first met Dane our freshman year that I was as boggled by his looks and charm as all the other freshmen at Berkley. Make that sophomores, juniors, and seniors as well. When we’d been paired as lab partners that first semester, I could barely talk to him because I was afraid I’d start drooling.
But then I quickly realized that I wasn’t the type of woman who attracted Dane. While he was most definitely the kind that pushed all my buttons, I wasn’t sexy, buxom, or sexualized enough for what he wanted.
That ultimately all worked out because from a lab partnership was born a friendship that became quite strong. We met Andrew that first semester in a science club we’d joined, and well… the rest is history.
The bartender brings my wine, and I take a sip before I look back up to Dane. “Did Andrew tell you I was coming back here?”
Dane nods, and I can tell by the look on his face that Andrew probably also spilled his worries to Dane.
“Are you going to try to talk me out of this or make me feel bad about it?” I challenge.
I get a quick, easy laugh in return as he shakes his head. “Avril… you have my full support to be here.”
“You didn’t want me here at first,” I remind him. He at least has the grace to look chagrined.
Leaning toward me, Dane gives me an understanding look. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to exclude you. I wasn’t sure it was the right thing for you so soon after breaking up with Jamie, but it appears I was wrong.”
The way my shoulders drop in relaxation, I hadn’t realized I was so tense or how important his answer would be to me. I let out a breath of relief and then admit to Dane, “Andrew’s a little bent out of shape about it.”
Dane nodded. “He is, but I told him to accept it and move on.”
“He swore it wouldn’t change our friendship,” I muse as I run my finger over the top of my wineglass.
“It totally changed the friendship, Av,” Dane says, and I blink in surprise as my eyes come back to his.