Just like that.
No.
Not even a hey, let’s slow this down. Just no, that’s a bad idea.
Hence the following implosion of the beginnings of what she’d hoped would be her future.
She may have been a little touchy about it all, but she’d put herself out there and he’d ruined it.
“Rome?” she asked her brother. “Drake’s my pity date?” Shock infused her tone like the top-shelf whiskey in her nearly untouched eggnog martini.
“Yes.”
She was officially going to do bodily harm to her brother. She stared at him with the stare she’d perfected with two older brothers and a younger one—the one that clearly got her point across. That point being—
“Run.” She’d give him a thirty-second head start before she pummeled him with the pointy heels of her shoes.
Roman did not run.
Instead, he seemed to double down and widen his stance, shove his hands on his hips, and give her a look like she was in the wrong on this one.
Her chest went tight because maybe, just maybe, she was a teensy bit wrong.
But so was Drake.
And two wrongs did not make their relationship work.
“Hear him out,” Roman said, sympathy practically rolling off of him. Sympathy that was really pissing her off. “You need to know where he’s coming from.”
Anna’s pulse thrummed as Drake strode toward their little huddle with purpose.
There were things Anna knew about Drake: he was super hot, excellent in bed, perpetually single, unwilling to commit to anyone off the football field, and apparently…her date.
Again.
She might as well just call her heart broken a second time and be done with it. Blinking, she hoped he’d disintegrate into a mirage. That didn’t happen.
He caught her attention, and for a moment, she could’ve sworn there was an apology in his gaze. A question in his expression—would she let him pretend nothing had happened and they hadn’t ended?
Drake sauntered toward them, eyes locked with hers. Anna’s chest heaved.
“Why would you do this to me?” She cut a look toward her least favorite brother of the night.
“Give him a chance.” Roman’s voice dropped low enough so only she could hear it.
“We broke up.” Anna’s throat worked against the silver chain of her choker necklace. Roman’s thirty seconds were about over, and she wasn’t entirely kidding about pummeling him.
Without even meaning to, she slipped her gaze back toward Drake.
He grinned at her, confident and hopeful.
Maybe she wouldn’t pummel her brother after all.
The heat in the look Drake gave her melted all of her attempts at freezing him out. It was super hard to be grumpy when Drake and his charms were handed to her on a silver testicle platter.
He was totally lickable—like one of those Tootsie Pop suckers. How many licks to get to his center? She’d tried for an entire month and still hadn’t gotten to the center of him. She’d run her tongue along the column of his throat, around the back to his earlobe. Uh-huh, yes, she’d done that.
Drake got closer. Not close enough for Anna to see the subtle brown flecks she’d memorized in his green eyes, but closer all the same.
Each movement toward her made her pulse thud faster.
When he was on the football field, the guy had an arm unlike any the league had ever seen before. When he whipped off his helmet on the sidelines for a post-game interview? Mmmmmm. Yum. Let’s just say the girls were ready to put all their milkshakes in the yard with the hopes of attracting him to their property.
Phew, was it hot in the ballroom?
Suddenly lightheaded, Anna succumbed to the memory of being held in Drake’s embrace. Blond cropped hair, strong jaw, green eyes the color of her favorite absinthe cocktail from Union Lodge No. 1—he was the whole package. Everything she thought she’d been waiting for in a man.
Yes. Oh my, my, my.
But oh no, no, no.
She wanted to turn and walk away, even tried to get her feet to move, but the soles of her shoes stayed rooted to the ballroom carpet. Her lungs constricted and the room started to spin. Not in a dangerous way like she’d pass out or anything. But in the dangerous way like she might make a really stupid mistake…again.
Chapter 2
Anna
Anna ran through several scenarios of how the evening could play out.
In the first option, she’d bolt for the door, run to the valet, get her car, get in her car, and get the hell out of there.
In the second, she’d stay, give Drake the cold shoulder, and wait out the night.
In the third (and she already knew this was the way it would go), she’d stay, be unable to give Drake the cold shoulder, and fall back into the land of love and dreams—all the while knowing, deep down, that it wasn’t meant to be.
Option three sucked the most.
She willed her body to go numb so that she could choose option one or two instead. Her body betrayed her, warming and tingling and craving Drake’s touch.
He continued walking toward her, stopping several times along the way to shake hands and pose for selfies with fans. He never said no to a fan.
Maybe that’s where she’d messed up. She should’ve made it clear she was a fan first and a girlfriend second, and then maybe he’d have agreed to let her move to Miami with him. This is what Drake’s appearance did to her—it made her question everything.
Even with his starts and stops, Drake somehow managed to keep his intention of where he was headed clear.
To her.
Therefore, Anna decided not to go chase down her brother.
With a few reassuring glances pointed in her direction, he sometimes stared straight at her while still making it clear he was listening to the person chatting him up.
“I think I’m going to murder your fiancé,” Anna whispered to Sadie.
“Please don’t.” Sadie let out a long sigh.
Anna sighed, resigned, her body already buzzing at the idea of breathing the same air as Drake again.
Sadie gave a meaningful look to Heather, then to Anna. “His methods are suspect, I know, but he means well.”
“Sadie is correct, I mean well.” Roman smiled a shit-eating grin.
“You do deserve a night of fun.” Heather slipped Anna’s eggnog martini back into her hand. “If you don’t want to spend it with Drake, I’ll tell him to take a hike. People don’t say no to a pregnant lady very often.”
The problem wasn’t that Anna wanted Heather to whisk her away. The issue at hand was that Anna wanted to spend the evening with Drake.
Hell, she wanted to spend more than an evening with him.
That was the problem.
She wanted to go back to the way things had been before.
Another fan caught Drake’s attention. He paused. Smiled. Made what seemed like small talk. Another photo. Another handshake. A hearty laugh. The guy was totally genuine.
Except when it came to his feelings for Anna, it seemed.
Finally, his focus moved to her again.
That gorgeous smile of his melted any residual resolve she had managed to hold onto.
“Anna,” he said, his voice a low rumble of golden boy goodness.
“Drake,” she replied, totally serious.