Page 23 of Better Hate than Never

“Well on my way. Tequila makes me chatty and happy.” Her sigh is content as she looks around. “Even without the help of tequila, how could I not be happy? What’s there not to be happy about?”

My gaze slips once again to where Christopher now stands, handing Rowan to Margo, who takes one look at his suit and pinches the bridge of her nose. He waves it off, making a show of brushing away the churro grease and cinnamon sugar as if it’s nothing. When Margo walks past him with Rowan, he peers up, his gaze meeting mine.

His eyes flash with surprise, before he schools his expression. A slow tip of his head. An arched eyebrow, raised in challenge.

I tip back the rest of my drink, my gaze never leaving him. He holds my stare as I arch my eyebrow, too, and tell him in that silent, unspoken way we have:

Challenge accepted.

•SIX•

Christopher

Well. So much for trying to avoid Kate.

When I asked Jamie to find out from Bea if Kate planned to come to Sula’s party, he said she’d told Bea no. Clearly, that plan changed.

Kate stands across the room, pointedly ignoring me since our eyes met. Fine. I can handle being ignored, even if I’m not terribly familiar with the experience, thanks to the sheer luck of my genetics. I might have done jack shit to earn my looks and presence, but I have no qualms about thoroughly, frequently enjoying the physical pleasures that transpire from possessing what draws so many women.

Jaw clenching, I stare at the most obvious exception—Kate.

“Bea only told me when I got here that it was a last-minute decision,” Jamie says beside me, handing me a beer. “I’d have warned you if I knew sooner.”

I take a long pull from the bottle and tear my gaze away from Kate. “It’ll be fine.”

“If you say so,” he mutters, before taking a swig of his own.

“Okay!” Sula claps her hands to get the group’s attention. She is, of course, standing on the coffee table, her cheeks flushed to a bronze almost as deep as her hair.

“She’s lit, isn’t she?” Jamie asks.

I nod, smiling as I remember the first Tacos and Tangos Sula birthday party I came to three years ago. It was just a few months after Jules dragged me to my first game night, but Sula and I had already formed a fast, intense bond over Risk and board-game world domination. “Every birthday,” I tell him. “Tango, tacos, and a very intoxicated Sula.”

Jamie grins as she does a few dance steps across the coffee table and explains that folks who know how to tango go to the left side of the room, those who need a tutorial, to the right.

“You familiar with the tango?” I ask him.

“I am. My mother insisted all of her sons take ballroom lessons. You know the tango by now, I assume?”

“I was brought into the tango fold three years ago.”

He whistles appreciatively. “We have a master on our hands.”

Kate’s smoky laugh cracks through the air like a whip and lassos my attention. I glance her way and see she’s talking to someone who I have to begrudgingly admit is good-looking, standing at just about her height, well-dressed, put together. They’ve got a softie-with-nerd-glasses vibe going. Kate doesn’t smile for them, but they have her attention—worse, her laughter.

Hot aggravation slides beneath my skin.

I tear my gaze away and refocus on Jamie, who’s watching me curiously. “I know the tango, but I’m no master at it,” I tell him, trying to move past my little slip. “As you’ll see very soon.”

As if on cue, Margo saunters my way. “Let’s go,” she says. “Sula’s too busy hollering at the newbies about tango’s fundamentals. Whisk me away.”

“As the lady wishes.” I hand Jamie my beer and shrug off my jacket, setting it aside. Then I take the beer back and bolt the rest of it. Margo hoots appreciatively. Next, I make quick work of my sleeves, cuffing and pushing them up my arms to my elbows, and offer her my hand. “Shall we?”

She smiles. “We shall. West—shit, I mean Jamie. Sorry.”

He dips his head. “No apology necessary.”

Margo jerks her head toward Bea, who walks back into the room from the hallway, searching the floor. “Your dance partner awaits.” She bites her lip. “I say this with the deepest love for Bea, no trash talk, just truth—you do know the beating your toes are about to take?”

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