Page 22 of The Seven Month Itch
“Easy, kid. You’re still a lightweight.” Miles shoots me the look of a big brother who doesn’t want to deal with his younger sibling’s crap. My nerves are still on high alert. It’s either this or a pacemaker to take the edge off.
I tip my empty glass at him. “Guess things have changed since I last saw you.” I’m not surprised he’s here. Terrence and Miles are like Mario and Luigi looking for their next adventure.
“Yeah, no shit.” He scratches his goatee with a chuckle. “The last thing I expected was to see some son of a bitch’s hands all over you at a singles’ retreat. Talk about a reunion.”
Miles and his chocolate wall of muscles absorb one side of the table. With his pink cupid pajamas and slides, you’d never know he knocked a man unconscious ten minutes ago. He’d never hurt me, but he gives nightmares bad dreams.
“Trouble finding a woman to put up with you with the lights on?” I give him a playful nudge under the table. A guy just assaulted me on the dance floor, and my estranged husband is under the same roof, likely getting to know someone in the biblical sense. I need normal before I lose what’s left of my mind.
His brow lifts. “Isn’t it past your bedtime? The night is still young for me.” He unleashes one of his million-dollar smiles and sits up. Thick veins flex when his large forearms hit the table. His gaze turns serious. “Had to make sure you were okay first.”
Dang it, man.
You couldn’t buy his devotion for the people he loves.
Miles graduated from Bodie University before my freshman year. We only spent time together when he came to check on Terrence—unannounced, of course, and fully expecting of a plate of food. He landed a gig in intelligence and cyber ops that allows him to travel and do God knows what to God knows who. The details of his job are “need to know,” which keeps it a complete mystery. My guess is the mafia or the government.
I wave a hand to dismiss him and the subject. “I’m okay.” I’m not, but I don’t want to talk about this anymore. “So, what’s new?”
The tiny booth creaks when he shifts his weight. His legs widen. “You know me. Work. Travel.” He eyes Emma and scans her silk nightgown. “Women.” Even with bloated eyes that make it look like she needs an allergy auto-injector, my friend is beautiful. “What’s good, Em?”
She rolls her eyes. “Not on your best day.”
“Ouch.” He grips his heart. “Why do you deny the inevitable?” Another grin flashes. “It’s only a matter of time, kitten.”
Kitten?
My eyes ping-pong between Miles and Emma’s staredown. Since when do these two have pet names for each other? They never spend time together, and they barely like each other. Sure, they’re both attractive and enjoy wild sex that requires marathon stamina and stable knees. But Miles is…Miles, and Em has a zero-tolerance policy for cavemen.
Her gaze stays locked on its target. “I don’t have time for your little antics,” she says over the rim of her glass.
He doesn’t break eye contact. “Baby, there’s nothing little about me.” His voice drops a level, and his eyes burn with a heat that wasn’t there before.What the hell?Miles stares down at me when I clear my throat. “So what brings you to a singles’ retreat? Finally ready to pull the plug on your marriage?”
The question hits me like a punch in the gut. My hands curl into fists under the wooden table. Memories dance in my mind, threatening to pull me back to the dark place I fought so hard to escape.
Guess I will lose my mind at this retreat.
He needs to get his facts straight.Inever wanted to “pull the plug.” Terrence forced my hand. But this is not the time nor the place for that conversation, least of all with him.
Where the hell was Miles when I spent nights alone on the bathroom floor with no husband to comfort me because he was away? Did he care about my marriage then, or when I mustered up enough strength to leave his best friend because the pain became too much to bear?
I close my eyes and count to ten.
Keep it together before you end up in a cell next to Faux Brody.
My eyes rise to meet his. I open my mouth to speak, but Emma beats me to it. “If the person you’re with makes you question your worth, at some point…” She shrugs. “Their marriage was over before she walked out, so if you want to chastise anyone for ‘pulling the plug,’ go find your friend.”
She squeezes my hand under the table. Happily ever afters are a waste of time for Em. But, like the man who sits across from us, she’ll walk through the fire and back to keep the people she loves from pain.
Her response gets her a side-eye. Miles would protect me from a physical threat, but there’s no question where his loyalties lie. “Uh-huh.” He takes a drink and stares at me like I’m a complex equation he can’t solve. His gaze fixes on something over my shoulder.
I turn to see a bombshell with jet-black hair in a red dress at the bar. Her hourglass shape leads to red pedicured toes in gold heels. She entertains my old friend with a cocktail cherry that twirls on her tongue and turns up the heat.
What does it mean again if you can tie a cherry stem with your tongue? You’re a good kisser? Good at giving head? Is it a bad sign I can’t? There was a daily deal for one of those pop-up blow job classes recently. Maybe I should enroll. You know, in case I ever decide to give love a try or want to flirt with a random stranger at a bar.
Miles licks his lips at the brown beauty and drains his glass in a single gulp. “It’s been real.” He stands and walks to my side. “You sure you’re good, kid?”
“Yeah. Time to head back and get some sleep.” He’s an ass, but it is my bedtime.
