Page 2 of The Catch

She tugged Dani’s arm and pointed to the rest of the group, but Dani shook her head.

“What’s with the shirt?” Dani asked Brad. “You look like you’re ready to party.”

Brad beamed with pride as if he thought that was a compliment. “And you look like you’re ready to join me,” he said, inching closer.

It was going to be a long night.

This wasn’t his type of place.

Josh Rideout stood squished against the sticky bar, catching stray elbows into his back every time one of the frat boys behind him did another shot. He’d already had a beer and something pink spilled on his shirt while waiting for Dylan, his best friend and purveyor of poor decisions, to order another round.

He scanned the club through flashes from the DJ booth and raised beer bottles—loud music, ten-dollar cocktails served in tiny plastic cups, girls who looked way too young to be wearing what they were wearing and dancing how they were dancing. Yeah, this was Dylan’s type of place. That’s how he and their friend Shawn had ended up at this dive that Dylan swore was the hottest place on the beach. Frankly, all of them being in their early thirties, Josh thought they were a little old for it.

This was the type of place where everyone was looking for something, and whatever it was that Josh was looking for these days, he was pretty sure he wouldn’t find it here.

Dylan handed Josh an overpriced rum and Coke, then a beer to Shawn, and threw some bills down, stepping aside so the eager mob could take his place at the bar.

“Shit, man,” Dylan said. He ran a hand over his dark, perfectly-gelled hair and whistled through his teeth. “You see that girl I was talking to? I think I’m in love.”

“Yeah, we saw,” Josh said, pushing away from the crowded bar to find a clear spot on the deck. “What about the girl from the last bar, Casanova?”

Dylan hated the nickname, which made it all the more fun. But seriously, they were at a bar that mixed drinks in plastic cups, and Dylan was dressed in trousers with the top buttons of his dress shirt undone like a model from a men’s cologne ad. Who was he kidding?

Dylan smiled over his cup. “You know, you could stand to loosen up a little bit, Joshua. You’re on vacation, remember?”

“Damn straight!” Shawn agreed.

Josh raised an eyebrow at the advice from his happily married friend, but Shawn only shrugged.

“I remember,” he assured them both, taking a large swig of his drink.

They managed to hold on to the more comfortable spot as the crowd ebbed and flowed before them. Throngs of people pushed onto the deck when the music slowed, pulling back like the tide once the beat picked up again. At that moment, the bass from the speakers was vibrating through the floorboards, so they had plenty of elbow room.

Josh leaned against the railing and watched intoxication wash over the space. The clientele at this place was at least more entertaining than the shitty cover band if he had to find a bright side. There was a woman in cowboy boots and a miniskirt attempting to climb her way onto the stage, a bunch of rowdy twenty-somethings cheering her on. To his right, a couple was having a slurred argument over whether or not this was a “classic song.”

It wasn’t, but the guy was making some interesting points.

Past the couple, he noticed a pair of women having a conversation with a man who seemed to be enjoying it more than they were, considering the look on the dark-haired woman’s face. They didn’t know the guy—Josh could tell. Reading body language was one of the things he considered himself particularly good at. He’d spent a lot of time as a kid silently observing adults who were choosing not to say something outright, and this guy’s unspoken intention was to continue this conversation with one or both of these women until well after last call.

The woman with bleached blonde hair seemed to be egging him on for her own amusement. Her friend, with the big dark eyes and light-brown skin, looked like she was trying to decide whether to be polite or deck the guy. He was on the smaller side—she could probably take him if he got out of line.

Dylan and Shawn started in on their typical armchair analysis of the upcoming Virginia Tech football season. Unlike him, the two were born and bred Virginians, so they tended to be more fanatical. Besides, he was a baseball guy. He sipped his drink while he half-listened to Shawn opine about their alma mater’s defensive line until an awkward hollow laugh came from over his shoulder.

He turned back to where he’d been watching the two women, noticing the blonde scanning the crowd behind her. She was searching for an exit. The man was invading her personal space now, and she was beginning to look uncomfortable. Her pretty friend was starting to look pissed.

Josh stood up straighter. He sized the guy up again, confident he could end the situation pretty easily if he needed to. At six feet tall, he would tower over this little snake of a guy. It would probably only take a stern look to send him on his way.

As he contemplated whether or not he should get involved, the blonde woman suddenly flashed her eyes in his direction. To his—and her friend’s—surprise, she pointed a finger at him and waved. His back was against the railing, but he still turned over his shoulder, half expecting her to be gesturing to someone behind him.

She plastered on a wide grin, and walked the few steps over to where Josh was standing, hooking her arm through his. “There you are, babe,” she cooed, dragging him to their circle. “I’ve been waiting for you to come back.” She turned toward Snake Guy and smiled. “This is my boyfriend.”

Okay.He was happy to help, but he wasn’t expecting that.

Blondie squeezed his bicep, and her friend’s scowl relaxed a fraction as she blinked at him curiously. He froze for a moment, watching those thick, black lashes flutter until Blondie nudged him.

Josh cleared his throat. “Sorry, sweetheart,” he said, with his best boyfriendy smile. “There was a long wait at the bar.”

The man they were trying to escape looked him up and down, his eyes narrowed. Seeing that she was unconvincing, Blondie ran her fingers over the stubble on Josh’s cheek, giving him a look like she was contemplating kissing him right then and there to sell her story. He quickly wrapped his fingers around her wrist to stop her stroke, planting a chaste kiss on her forehead instead while he stole another glance at her friend.

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