Page 16 of Play Dirty

And she looks beautiful today in a pale green dress that hugs her curves until her hips, and then it flares out in rows of delicate ruffles. Her hair is up in one of those high ponytails that shows off her perfect features, and her makeup is soft and subdued. Kind of like her.

The sheer pink lipstick she’s wearing glitters on her lips, making me long to taste them, and I’m starting to wish this was a real date. Instead of a friendly date. Whatever that means.

I’ve definitely been out of the dating game for too long.

“When did you and Stevie start hooking up?” Connor asks me as we stand at the makeshift bar getting drinks.

“We’re not hooking up,” I reply firmly. “We’re just friends.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Seriously? She’s one of the most beautiful women in the world and you’re just…friends?”

“Believe it or not, it’s possible to be friends with someone you’re not sleeping with.”

He laughs. “But why?”

“Because eventually you get old enough to understand there’s more to life than sex.”

“I’m serious, bro—why would you friend zone her? She’s beautiful and single. And you’re single too. What’s the problem?”

I honestly don’t have an answer other than, “Well, I’m not even legally divorced yet, so I don’t want to do the rebound thing.”

“Sometimes a rebound thing is a good thing.” He gazes over at Effie. “We both know Effie was just trying to get over her ex when she went out with me, but look at us now.”

I smile. “She seems like a nice girl—just don’t get too attached. You’re young. See what else is out there. Don’t marry your first serious girlfriend.”

Like I did.

I don’t say that last part aloud, though.

He’s momentarily thoughtful, which doesn’t happen often with Connor, especially if it’s not hockey related. “That what you did?”

“Yup. I mean, there were one-night stands, but Brenna was my first adult serious relationship.”

“I’ll be careful,” he promises quietly.

Then he takes his beer and wanders off.

“I need another glass of champagne,” Stevie says, joining me.

I turn to the bartender. “Another glass of champagne for the lady.”

“Right away.”

The wedding is low-key but elegant, with a small bar set up under a canopy, tables and chairs under a tent, and a makeshift dance floor near the pool. It’s a little cramped for fifty people, but it feels cozy instead of crowded.

I hand Stevie her drink, and we make our way back to the table where we’ve been sitting.

“So.” Her eyes twinkle as she looks at me. “Our third wedding in less than a month.”

I chuckle. “Third time’s a charm, I guess.”

“Is it time for that dance you owe me?”

“Absolutely.”

She downs her glass of champagne and then takes my arm as we walk to the dance floor. She moves against me easily, apparently unconcerned with the fact that a fast-paced song is playing. We’re making our own rhythm, a little more slowly than the beat.

“You really like to dance,” I say, smiling down at her.

---