I know I should be relieved, but I’m not. If I kissed Nash last night, would it have all been some horrible mistake to him this morning? Would I have been made to look a fool right now, watching the two of them flaunt their love right in front of me? Because I sure as hell feel like a fool right now. I’m not sad. I’m pissed off.

“You okay?”

I jump a little at Harley’s voice, low and raspy, right by my ear, his breath warm as it fans against my skin. Looking up, I see he’s standing beside me with a pitcher of beer in each hand.

I swallow hard. “How much do I owe?” I ask, opening my wallet and rifling through for some cash.

“Murph, I’m not taking your money.”

I glare at him, quickly shaking my head in dispute.

“Consider it a perk of dating the owner.” He winks, nudging me playfully with his elbow. I deadpan, and he grins down at me. With an eye-roll, I throw a handful of dollars into the tip jar before following him through the crowded bar back toward our booth, holding on to the hem of his T-shirt as he leads the way so as not to lose him in the crowd.

We pass Nash and Anna, and I glance over to see them finally playing their game of pool. She’s bending over the table, lining up her shot, and he’s leaning over her almost indecently, pressing a kiss to her shoulder in a way so intimately familiar it makes me blush. But then his gaze lifts, and his blue eyes find mine, and in that flash of an instant, something passes between the two of us, something that makes me stumble over my own two feet.

“You all right?” Harley asks, steadying me as he hands me a glass.

I nod quickly, taking it from him and gulping back a few mouthfuls of beer. Glancing sideways, I watch Anna celebrate her shot, Nash wrapping his arms around her waist, holding her tight and pressing a kiss to her cheek. But then, once again, his eyes meet mine from across the way. Only this time I don’t look away, finding something deep within his stare that causes my heart to feel as if it’s stopped dead cold in my chest.

Forcing myself to look away, I turn to Harley, watching as he talks to Emma. And I can’t help but notice how he’s smiling at her, looking at her as if she’s the only woman in the entire world. Captivated by her. He’s hanging on to every one of her words, completely rapt in her. I can’t mistake the twinge of something I can only describe as jealousy surge through me as it comes to bubble beneath the surface of my skin. And it’s ridiculous. Me? Jealous of Emma? Jealous of any of the hundreds of other women Harley Shaw has been with over the years? It’s absurd.