Breaking Even (6 page)

It's hard to be me when I'm dressed like someone else. I really need to buy new clothes. Since my divorce, I've lost a good deal of weight, and now all of my clothes are too big—as Mr. Jerk Face pointed out.

“I met Tria a while back, and she sort of introduced me around. I don't really know their men very well, but I know the girls.”

I look around just as the music dies down, and the band takes the stage once again. The lead singer is young, but incredibly sexy.

“Too young for you,” Rye says, drawing my attention.

He motions toward the stage with his beer to let me know what he's talking about. One look at the guy all the girls are screaming over, and I laugh.

“I realize that, but I'm not exactly old.” Even though I feel forty. Then I turn to face him better.

“You don't have to hang out with me. You had no idea your date was going to be the troll across the road. Go have fun. I'm about to sneak out.”

Just as I drink down my last few sips, he tugs my elbow.

“Nope. You're not going to go play Ms. Hermit. You're staying because Ash will think I said something to piss you off.”

Great. He thinks I'm a hermit. He'd be horrified if I told him my favorite part of the day has become our pranks.

“Don't be nice. It makes me feel pathetic.”

He laughs as he drops his arm over my shoulders.

“It's a temporary truce. You loaned me your shower; now I'm making you have fun. Besides, you made me eat alone after you promised you'd have dinner with me.”

I would have killed for one of those burgers, but the second the lights came on, I stood there feeling awkward, and he said nothing. I just excused myself to make things more comfortable.

Is he trying to be my friend right now? Or is he just being friendly?

I hate my life.

“Rye Clanton,” a girl purrs from somewhere close by.

I turn to see her just as her chest is jutted in my face. She has a good five inches on me, making her at least 5'8.

Rye grins while facing her as well, his eyes flicking down to her chest to see her very exposed cleavage. She's got me beat there, too. I'm lucky to fill out a handful. As if she needs anymore perfection, her hair is as long and shiny blonde as it can be.

I hate her already.

“Cassandra,” he drawls, running his eyes over her body.

I almost gag. I so don't have to be here for this.

I start to walk away when she scoffs, “It's Cassie.”

That makes me stifle a smile. He's about to get a drink thrown in his face. Just to watch the show, I turn back around.

“I thought Cassie was just short for Cassandra,” he says, recovering from his slip as though it's effortless.

This time I do gag.

She looks at me, appraising me with a skeptical eye.

“And your friend?” she asks, obviously convinced I'm not his type.

Damn. I thought I looked pretty good in this dress. I may not meet supermodel status, but I look better than usual. I just wish it was in my comfort zone.

“This is Brin,” he says, pulling me back to him. “She's my date for the night.”

Yeah... I'm as shocked as she is that he just said that. Her eyebrows are trying to hit her hairline right now.

“Didn't know you were seeing anyone,” she says dryly.

“First date. I should get going. I'll catch up with you another time.” He puts his arm back around my shoulders and guides me toward the rest of the group.

“You didn't have to do that. I repeat: I'm not really your date.”

“Stop saying that,” he scolds lightly. “Tonight I'm your date. And despite what you might think, I don't ditch my date to hit on other girls.”

My eyes move to his lips, and I stare for a fraction of a second too long. “Let's dance,” he says, smiling down at me.

Since I love dancing, I don’t hesitate. I may not can wow a stage with my graceful finesse, but that doesn’t matter here. In a club like this, dancing is just sex with clothes on, and I can handle that.

***

RYE

Cassandra... Er, Cassie looked ripe for the picking, but Brin would have taken it personally. The girl needs to have fun and enjoy life. I wonder if she ever dates.

I should kick Wren's ass for bailing on her and not giving her a reason.

We make our way to the center of the floor, and I pull her to me as I start to move. She doesn't hesitate to grind her hips against me, and it shocks the fuck out of me. Christ, she can move that body. There's nothing
sweet
about her right now.

When she turns and presses her ass into me, I might groan. A little. I wasn't expecting my feisty, cute little neighbor who dresses in clothes too big for her, and tortures the hell out of me to be grinding on my cock right now. I certainly wasn't expecting to be hard as a damn rock.

She pushes against me and stretches her arm up, wrapping her soft hand around the back of my neck as our bodies writhe together. There’s no doubt that she feels what she’s doing to me, and I’m starting to worry there’s a prank in here somewhere.

My arms go around her waist as I bend over, pulling her to me, and we dance like we’re not both scheming for the other’s next disaster.

She’s always been my quiet neighbor until this past week. Then she turned into my enemy. Then it became a fun war that excites and infuriates me in the same breath. But until this moment, I’ve never thought about her as anything more.

There’s something about touching her, feeling her body fold to mine as we both squash our feud for a few songs... My mind is in
all
the wrong places. And that can’t happen. We’re neighbors.

I have two rules: Don’t fuck where you live or where you work. I’m not breaking those rules because of how good her ass feels against me right now, or because she knows exactly how to drive me out of my fucking mind with her hips.

I never expected this, and I’m kicking Wren’s ass later for putting me in this mind-fuck.

My lips brush her ear as the seductive music drives us. I don’t dance. I fucking hate dancing unless the promise of sex is there. Why did I even suggest this?

She’s so short that I have to bend every time I want my lips to touch her, and I stick to her ear because it seems safe enough. “You want a drink?” I ask when I come too damn close to taking her neck instead of her ear.

“Yeah,” she says, grinning as she turns around. “Then you have to dance with me some more. This is fun.”

I can’t help but smile, because I’ve never seen someone so happy about something so small as dancing. If I could move without being in pain, I’d dance with her all night. But my cock needs a break.

“Come on,” I say, laughing when she starts dancing all by herself.

I take her hand and we weave through the crowd to where our group is gathered in a corner booth. Unfortunately, two familiar faces are walking up to join them. Shit. Now Kode and Tria are here. He really hates me.

“Brin!” Tria says excitedly, waving and drawing the attention of blonde douche as well. Crap.

Kode’s eyes narrow on me just as Tria pulls him behind her to meet us when we reach the stairs to the elevated area. Brin and Tria hug and talk, both of them smiling. Then Ash calls to her.

Brin takes the shot glass handed to her by Ash, and she shoots it quickly. But her adorable scowl forms, and I can’t help but stifle a laugh. Tag hands me a glass of whiskey. Correction, scotch.

“You two sitting down or dancing some more?” Ash asks, her grin growing.

They’re getting the wrong idea. Brin might be making me hard, but I’m not fucking her. She’s just my neighbor.

“Dancing,” Brin says with a laugh, tugging my hand and forcing my drink to slosh over the edges. I’m forced down the stairs by her surprisingly strong grip, but I don’t fight her.

I chuckle as I follow her, wishing I wasn’t having such a damn good time. It’s so... easy right now. Since I’m not trying to fuck her, there’s no pressure to be suave or persuasive. I can just dance and pretend as though the growth in my pants isn’t painful.

This would be a lot more fun if her ass didn’t feel so good on my crotch. When she laughs for no reason other than the fact she’s having fun, I can’t help but smile. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen her smile when she wasn’t torturing me. It’s actually a damn good smile.

***

RYE

After forty minutes, I’m sweating and my dick is begging for mercy. We’ve downgraded from liquor to beer, both of us holding our fresh bottles while we dance on the floor. I lean down just as Brin turns around.

“Ow!” she screeches while grabbing her head.

I mimic the reaction, rubbing the sore spot she left on me after our skulls collide. Fucking hell. As if the alcohol wasn’t going to leave me with a painful enough headache.

“We called truce,” she growls, staggering a little from the large amount of alcohol she has put inside her small body.

“You think I did that on purpose?” I ask incredulously.

She steps toward me, her spiteful little glower almost making me laugh. Almost. I’m distracted when she presses her tits against me in order to try and be intimidating.

She’s not intimidating. Not even a little bit.

She looks past me, and then glances down at her watch. “Ah, hell. I didn’t realize it was so late.”

I glance down at my phone to check the time, and frown. It’s not even ten yet.

“Late?” I ask as she staggers again.

“Yeah. I have to be at the museum at five in the morning to catalogue a new exhibit. Shit. I should go.”

She starts walking, and I follow. She’s crazy if she thinks she’s driving in this shape.

“You can’t drive,” I say loudly, trying to shout over Base’s loud singing.

“There are always cabs waiting out front. This place is easy pickings for fare.”

She comes here often? I’ve never seen her here, and I come regularly. Of course, it’s usually well after
ten
when I get here. Damn early bird.

I follow her to the booth, and she starts hugging the girls, bidding them all farewell as I hang back and sip my still nearly full beer. She then turns back to me and her smile actually does something fucked up to me.

I’ve had too much to drink.

“Thanks,” she says sweetly. “For dancing with me, I mean.”

I shrug, acting as though she hasn’t given me the worst hard-on ever.

“No big deal. Dates dance,” I say casually.

Of course I usually fuck after dancing—on the rare occasion that I dance. Not tonight. Not with her.

She starts to walk away, and again I follow, until she stops abruptly and I have to do one hell of a maneuver to keep from running over her.

“What are you doing?” she asks as she turns around.

“Walking you out and paying for your cab.”

What does she think I’m doing?

She laughs as though I’ve said something funny.

“That’s not necessary. I paid for a cab here, and I can pay for my cab home. I don’t trust you. I might end up in Arizona if I let you anywhere near the cabby.”

“Fine,” I say again, even though it’s irking the hell out of me. “Then... I guess... Well, I’ll see you at home... Er... I mean... You know what I mean.”

I curse myself for suddenly sounding like a nervous kid. What the hell is in my beer?

“Yep,” she says with a growing grin. “And something nice will be waiting for you.”

For a second, that sounds dirty, but in the next breath, it sounds terrifying. What has the devil woman done now?

I start to speak, when she slaps the bottom of her beer against the top rim of mine, and my beer starts foaming and bubbling out, distracting me as I try to pull the bottle away from me before my drink gets all over my clothes. When I look up, her head is thrown back as she laughs and walks away.

Tag comes up beside me and sips his beer while joining me in gazing after the little pain in my ass. He’s not scowling like me, though. Now I need a new beer.

“I can’t tell if you want to fuck her or throttle her,” Tag says, the smug bastard sounding amused.

My eyes land on her ass that suddenly seems so much more tempting than it did yesterday.

“Yeah, well, that makes two of us,” I mutter dryly, hoping he didn’t really hear that.

Watching her hips sway like I’m entranced is actually pissing me off. She’d better not ever wear a dress again. Any dress at all.

I really don’t like this.

Chapter 4

BRIN

“So you went on a date with Mr. Sexy?” Maggie asks in disbelief as I slowly peel off the high heels that have tortured my feet all day.

She was gone when I got home last night, and she was still asleep when I left this morning.

“Well, only because Wren Prize realized he was way out of my league before I even got there. He probably googled me.”

She snorts out a laugh as I collapse to the chair, too tired to move. I hate new exhibits.

“Believe me, that can’t be the case. I’ve met his ex-wife. She was a moody bitch. One day she’d be incredibly sweet, and the next she’d be a total snob.”

With this crowd, it’s all about the total package usually. They want the shell to be just as pretty as what’s inside. I’m surprised he married someone that cheated on him with his brother, but I’m not surprised that she was a beauty queen.

I’m just... me. A little plain and certainly nothing extraordinary. I was never the girl that drew the men in, especially if there were any other girls around. Sterling Shore is frigging loaded with girls who look like they just stepped out of a Paul Colton fashion magazine. I married one of the three guys I dated in high school.

“But she had all the Sterling sparkle,” I sigh, glancing over to see a very tempting box of donuts.

I’m starving. I haven’t eaten since breakfast. But they’re so far away, and my feet hurt so badly. And since when does Maggie buy donuts? She’s a health fanatic.

I start to ask when she says, “You can always get the
Sterling sparkle
, too.”

This time I’m the one to snort out a laugh. “And be someone I’m not? No thank you. I’d rather find a guy who likes the real me. Plastic surgery is so out of the question. Some girls are born to be beautiful and wear dresses like the one I borrowed from you, and some girls are like me. I like going out without a lot of makeup, or sexy hair, or high heels, or even anything special. That’s who I am. I wish I was like you, or Rain, or Tria, or Ash, but I’m not. I’m also fine with that.”