Page 91 of Caught Up In You

“Damn right,” I growl, slapping her ass. “If I get a tape deck installed in my truck, will you let me drive?”

“The Debbie tapes won’t sound right without the lo-fi disaster that is my twenty-five-year-old sound system,” she says. “You won’t get the true depth of his affection or the misery of his heartbreak.”

I cock an eyebrow at her. “Your logic is far from sound.”

“My logic doesn’t need to be sound because my ass is round like a peach,” she says with a wink, andthat’slogic that stands.

CHAPTER 35

WYATT

The party has been a smashing success, as evidenced by the perma-grin on my best friend’s face. Carson and I have been on high alert so that in case she hit a bad patch, needed a weepy grief moment, we could whisk her off. But her karaoke picks have been nothing but joyful, off-key love songs aimed at the man who reserved a penthouse suite for us to party in.

Now the celebration is winding down, the cake reduced to crumbs on dessert plates scattered around the room. Way too many empty bottles of way-too-expensive champagne litter the suite, and everyone is starting to yawn from the effects of that many bubbles and that much aerobic dancing.

I’m nestled into an oversize leather couch, leaning into Owen, our fingers entwined. His chest is rising and falling in a comforting rhythm, his warm breath shifting the ends of my curls against my neck. My voice is scratchy from belting out “I Will Always Love You” (the Dolly version, obviously), followed by a slew of Destiny’s Child hits with Grace and Carson.

“Okay, I think I should probably head to bed,” Carson says, rising from an armchair. I watch the way Dan’s eyes track the hem of her sparkly tiered skirt, which rises up her thighs as shestretches, but when he catches me looking, his eyes darken and return to the rocks glass clutched in his fist.

And then I remember that I’m supposed to go with her, and my heart sinks. I’m not ready to climb out of Owen’s arms yet. But Carson is a little wobbly in her heels, and I’m not about to let her wander through this hotel alone.

“I’m coming with,” I say, taking a deep breath like I’m trying to store up the feeling of Owen before I retire to my bed.

Alone.

Fuck.

Being a good friend is fucking hard sometimes.

“Me too!” Grace trills, her voice slippery from the champagne. “I want a girls’ good night.”

“I’ll get everything squared away up here,” Decker says. He leans in for a kiss, then nips at her cheek. “Don’t be too long.”

And on that obviously suggestive note, the party ends. We cram into the elevator, half giddy, half exhausted.

Owen is behind me, his large hands resting on my hips as I lean back into him, my arousal growing right along with his.

“You’re going to sneak over for a visit, right?” he whispers, slipping a hotel keycard into the back pocket of my jeans.

“Dear god yes,” I say, barely containing a moan.

And then we all tumble out of the elevator and head toward our hotel rooms. The boys each have their own. Carson and I are the only ones sharing, and Grace is hot on our heels as we make our way to the door. I glance over my shoulder to watch Owen key into his room across the hall, tossing me a dangerously smoldering look before he disappears behind the door.

There’s a bottle of champagne in a bucket of mostly melted ice, which Decker had waiting for Carson when she arrived. Despite the fact that we’re all good and drunk, Grace grabs the neck of the bottle, making surprisingly quick work of the foil andthe cage despite her tipsy fingers. Then she pops to cork with a squeal.

“To the birthday girls!” I rasp, my voice well and truly shot.

It’s actually Carson’s birthday too. For the last twenty-five years, she and Grace have celebrated together; Grace’s mother died giving birth to her, and Carson always worked to distract her from the pain and grief the day represented. In the past, the two of them have disappeared for a night of drinking and screaming karaoke, the ensuing hangover allowing Grace to simultaneously hide from her misery and disappear into it.

But this year, now that Decker’s by her side and she has finally shared the weight of her grief with her family, she decided to celebrate with everyone she loves.

And while Decker planned this event for Grace, he made sure it still felt like a joint birthday party for the lifelong best friends.

“Okay, let’s get down to business,” Carson says, knocking back an entire glass of champagne in one swallow. Then she turns to me. “Why the hell is your suitcase in this room?”

“Wait,what?” I sputter. I’m buzzed to high heaven, but I’m not trying to get so drunk that I can’t sneak into Owen’s room and have my way with him.

“There is a man staying across the hall who wants nothing more than to have your suitcase onhisfloor. So why are youhere?”

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