I watched her standing at the bar, her small, bejeweled hands toying with the stem of her empty wineglass. I knew I shouldn’t stare, knew that it would be all over if she caught me, but I was powerless to drag my eyes away from her. Her skin, glistening faintly, looked as though it were covered in millions of tiny diamonds. She shook her head and her glorious mane rippled, shimmering like it was spliced through with spun gold. She was stunning, a physical punch in the gut. It took all the strength I had to not seize her around her dainty waist and bend her sylph-like body backward as passion overtook us both.

I swallowed hard and pressed my hands firmly against my sides to prevent them from reaching for her.

Soon, I promised myself. Soon.

CHAPTER TWENTY AUDREY

I tried to hide my aggravation as I stood up from the booth. I couldn’t sit there and watch Cat stare down at the scratched tabletop all night and offer meek, monosyllabic answers whenever Connor spoke directly to her. That wasn’t why I’d painstakingly glued individual false lashes to her eyes.

“Where are you going?” Cat asked, panic threading her voice.

“To the jukebox,” I said faux breezily. “If I hear ‘Tiny Dancer’ one more time, I’m going to murder someone.”

I stalked away, silently adding that the someone I would be murdering would be Cat if she couldn’t get her shit together. Honestly, sometimes she had the personality of a baked potato.

Be nice, I admonished myself. I didn’t know why I expected anything different. Cat had never been good at flirting, not even at college parties that were little more than Bacchanalian mating rituals set to pop music.

As I stood at the jukebox, considering the Tom Petty offerings, a large hand clamped down on my shoulder. I whirled around to find Connor grinning broadly at me. I glanced behind him in the direction of the booth.

“Where’s Cat?”

“She had to go to the restroom.”

Of course she did. It was literally painful not to roll my eyes at Cat’s cowardice.

“Here, let’s get some Journey in there,” Connor said, leaning around me to touch the screen. “ ‘Don’t Stop Believin’’ is my karaoke jam of choice.”

Despite myself, I groaned. “Oh, man, we have to find you some new material.”

“What’s wrong with ‘Don’t Stop Believin’’?” He sang the first couple of lines for my benefit, as though I had mistaken it for another song.

“Nothing. It’s just everyone’s karaoke song. I mean, be a little more basic, Connor.”

“Ouch, that hurts,” he said teasingly. “But I’ll let it slide. You know, even though you wound me with that sharp tongue of yours, I’m glad you came tonight.”

“Yeah, without me, your team wouldn’t have gotten that answer about Kanye,” I joked. “You’re desperate for someone up on Kardashian-adjacent trivia.”

“That’s not the only reason,” he said, his voice going husky and his eyelids lowering.

Too late, I realized he intended to kiss me.