I’m so fucked.

I nod my head slowly, pressing my lips together. “Yeah, you’re right. Happy New Year, Cora.” I shoot her a jaded smile and begin to turn around… but something stops me. Something that has been bugging me for weeks. I stop her before she slips out the door. “Hey, wait a sec.”

Cora turns to me with curious eyes. “Yeah?”

I scratch the back of my head. “That thing I said in the car that night… about the way you were dressed. About opening yourself up for unwanted attention...” I force my eyes up, noting a perplexed frown etched between her brows. “That was shitty. I don’t ever want you to think that what happened to us was your fault or that you brought it on yourself. It was a fucked up thing to say, and it’s been bothering the hell out of me. I just… you looked so fuckin’ pretty, and I guess I’ve always felt this weird protectiveness over you. I see the way men look at you and it drives me crazy.”

Cora is wringing her hands together, biting her lip so hard I’m afraid she might draw blood. “Oh. Um… thank you.”

“Yeah, you’re welcome.” I massage the nape of my neck, my chin to my chest. “Well, goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Dean. Happy New Year.”

I look up at her just as she shoots me the sweetest smile that makes my heart do things it really shouldn’t, and then she’s gone. I think about that smile as I crawl into bed a few minutes later, and I know I won’t sleep well tonight, but I’ll definitely sleep a little easier.

Chapter Seventeen

T H R E E Y E A R S E A R L I E R

Mandy’s fingers are dancing across my knee under the table, making their way up my thigh. I catch her hand before it makes contact and shoot her a wink.

Little minx.

The Oar is noisy with rowdy patrons watching the game, slinging back beers and shouting obscenities at the big screen TVs. Cora and Brandon sit across from us, making googly eyes at each other as they try to decide on an appetizer. My friend, Reid, stops by the table with his new girlfriend to chat, while a waitress appears to collect our orders and refill our drinks.

Life is good.

I have a beautiful woman who I think I want to marry someday, job security, a new townhouse, and pretty damn good friends. I’m not sure why it hits me in that moment, hanging out at our favorite bar on a random Friday night in the middle of winter, but as laughter fills my ears and Mandy’s hand presses warm against my thigh, I feel content.

“Do you think the waitress is hot?”

Reid says his goodbyes and I turn to Mandy, who is leaning on her palm and twirling a piece of light blonde hair around her finger. “Huh?”