Page 3 of The Refiner

I eye Astor’s swollen arms shoved into his suit, his gaze hardening.

“Why would Mr. Fancy Pants need support? It’s a baby shower.” I mean, is this not insane? Am I the only one confused about why my sister needed to console a grown-ass man at a baby shower? “The hardest decision is guessing whether or not the baby is a boy or a girl.” I chuckle at the craziness of this party. “Unless she’s an ex that got tired of waiting for the proposal. Or something cliché like that.”

Piper’s mouth falls open, and Astor tenses.

Oops. Did my love of storytelling hit its mark? “I’m sorry,” I try to explain. “I didn’t mean—” I might not like this man, but I never want to press my finger in someone’s wound if that’s what this is.

Astor steps back from Piper, leaning down and kissing her cheek. “Thank you for coming.”

“Anything for you,” Piper responds, shooting me a glare. “Let us drive you home.”

I want to argue that he’s fine. That’s why we have cabs and Uber. No need to make things more uncomfortable.

Astor flashes me a wink, seemingly recovered from my outburst, which I really regret, if I’m being honest. I was mad, and rude things sometimes bypass my proverbial filter when I’m angry.

It’s not something I’m proud of.

I track Astor moving in closer. “It was nice to meet you, Piper’s sister.”

Ugh. Now, I feel like arealasshole. “I’m sorry.”

He waves me off, takes his discarded glass from my hand, and brings me in for a hug, his breath skating over my ear with his words. “I bet upsetting betrayed surgeons makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside.”

I try wrenching from his hold as he throws the exact words I said to him earlier back in my face. His grip only tightens. I try faking a smile at Piper, who is glaring hard.

“Is that what you are?” I grate out between clenched teeth. “Betrayed?” Who would be crazy enough to betray this man with his oozing power and sex appeal?

Well, likely someone stupid like me who can’t seem to stop poking the bear.

Dr. Potter’s voice is hypnotic when he nuzzles my hair, the smell of bourbon on his breath even more intoxicating than when he whispers, “Goodbye, Keys. It was a pleasure playing with you.”

It takes a solid five minutes after he disappears back to the black hole he crawled out of before the chills recede on my arms.

Dr. Potter knew who I was all along.

And Piper is to blame.

Keagan

Present Day

“Ding dongs are so overrated.”

I’m three margaritas over my limit—which, my limit, if I’m being completely transparent, is pretty generous to begin with. I can drink most men under the table without so much as slurring.

But tonight, I’m celebrating—and plan on drinking until my teeth go numb. (Yes, I know teeth do not go numb. This should tell you how drunk I plan on getting.)

“Like, why do men think they are so fucking awesome with this muscle pendulum swinging between their legs? It’s not like it gives them a superpower.”

I toss back the last of my drink and slam the glass down on the wooden bar. “But they think it does. And do you know why they think a muscle has a superpower, Kenny?”

“No, but I’m sure you’re gonna tell me, sugar.”

Kenny might have one of those supercharged penises, but he knows it’s all bullshit.

Because Kenny is cool.

And my total bro-ho.

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