Page 146 of When Wrecked Meets Ruined
She stopped in front of me and greeted Noah.
“Hey, Evie.” Noah gave me a wink, a skill he’d perfected now that he was Mr. Suave, and then he said, “Gotta jet,” and left me alone with Evie. It was just the two of us now, surrounded by two hundred people who all faded away.
Because all I ever saw was her.
“Can I get you a drink?” I asked. “I’m buying.” It was an open bar.
She smiled. “How generous of you.”
I ordered the margarita she asked for and handed it to her, trying to ignore the electric current that raced through my body when our hands brushed. Jesus Christ. With just one touch, I was toast.
She thanked me for the drink and took a sip. Her tongue darted out to lick the salt off her lips, which weren’t painted in her signature red tonight. They were a natural shade of pink. Full and pouty lips that I wanted to sink my teeth into until I drew blood.
I wanted to touch her. Kiss every inch of her. Sink into her, bury myself to the hilt, and fucking live there.
But then I remembered the other night and how shitty that whole experience had been for her, and I wanted to punch myself for even thinking about sex.
We didn’t say a word. We just stood there, drinks in hand, staring at each other. I opened my mouth to speak, then shut it again. She did the same. We were mute, incapable of speech or casual conversation.
There were a million things I wanted to say, ask, and explain, but my mind went blank, and I couldn’t form the words.
It was pure fucking agony being this close to her without touching her. Without telling her all the things I hadn’t said the other night.
I love you. I’ve never stopped.
I’m sorry I hurt you.
If I could take it all back and have a do-over, I would.
But actions couldn’t be undone, and words couldn’t be taken back, so here we were with a mountain of regrets and bad decisions standing between us.
Evie touched my arm, jolting me back to the present. “They’re playing our song.”
It was The Civil Wars’ “Poison & Wine”, and I hadn’t realized we had a song, but it sounded like us. “Are you asking me to dance, Cherry?”
She gave me a little smile. “Maybe.”
I took the drink out of her hand, set it on the bar with my beer, and led her to the dancefloor.
We danced. Evie’s hand in mine, my other hand resting on the small of her back, the curves of her body pressed against mine.
“Do you hate me so much, Ridge?”
Hate her?
I hated that man for what he did to her. I hated Chad Fucking Miller. And I hated her mother and that scumbag boyfriend.
But I didn’t hate Evie.
Even though it would be easier if I did, and believe me, I’d tried, I couldn’t.
“I don’t hate you. Not even close.” I swept a lock of hair off her cheek. She was just as beautiful as I remembered, maybe even more so. But I missed the fire that used to burn inside her. I missed the way she used to fight me on everything. I missed so many things about Evie.
I pulled her closer, so her body was flush with mine, and closed my eyes, inhaling her scent. Intoxicating. Heady. Warm and spicy and sexy like her.
The song ended. Another slow song played and Evie and I danced under the stars.
It was bittersweet.
