LoveLines by S. Walden Read Free Book Online Page B

on.”
    “Pink shirt ?” I asked doubtfully.
    “Like a pale pink. It’s a collar shirt. Cute. Preppy,” she explained.
    “I don’t know.”
    “He doesn’t look metro if that’s what you’re afraid of. He’s scruffy wrapped in Brooks Brothers.”
    That sounded more enticing.
    “ What else is he wearing?” I asked.
    “A killer smile.” She flashed her own. “Check it.”
    “Oh, you clever thing, you,” I said, but Erica didn’t hear me. She was too busy holding up her vodka and screaming at the top of her lungs to the opening notes of Ke$sha’s “Crazy Kids.”
    “I love this song!” she yelled.
    I couldn’t help being swept up in her I-wish-I-were-a-teenager-again mania and screamed with her. We bounced all around the uneven deck, fresh sweat pouring down our temples, slinky dresses plastered to our bodies, vodka flying out of our cups. I rolled my hips in the direction of my mystery man—put on quite the show, actually. I think vodka makes me hyper sexual. Someone could have mistaken me for a pole dancer. Well, minus the pole.
    I’d yet to see his face, but Erica positioned me for his prime ass-shaking view. She glanced over my shoulder and laughed, telling me his tongue was hanging out of his mouth.
    “Yeah, right!” I cried, and whipped around to see him.
    I froze. I didn’t even jump when Erica popped my ass. I just stared. Embarrassed.
    The smile crept slowly over Reece’s face. He lifted his hand and rubbed his stubbled jaw, trying to hide the grin. But then he changed his mind and lifted the same hand to me in a small wave. I couldn’t, couldn’t face him at work next week.
    I whirled around and flashed Erica a horrified look.
    “What?” she asked. “There’s no way you think he’s ugly.”
    I shook my head.
    “Then what the hell is it?” she asked. “And why aren’t you going over there to talk to him?”
    “My co-coworker!” I choked out.
    Erica’s smile could have replaced all the lights downtown.
    “We have to go,” I said quickly.
    “Are you crazy? Go talk to him!”
    “You told me I couldn’t date my coworker, remember?”
    “That’s before I saw him,” Erica said. She peeked her head over my shoulder and waved.
    “Don’t do that!” I cried.
    I grabbed Erica’s hand and hauled her to the exit.
    “I feel like such a moron!” I moaned as we hurried down the stairs.
    “You oughta feel sexy as hell, because that’s what you are,” Erica replied. “You realize you made his night? His year , maybe?”
    “No. I just made myself look lik e a hooker,” I replied.
    I took a sharp right out the door to the oyster bar, excusing myself politely as I gently pushed through the crowd. The patio was filled with patrons who preferred live music over the DJ upstairs.
    “A hooker?” Erica laughed behind me.
    “That’s what I said,” I called over my shoulder. I thrust my hand behind me, and she took it automatically.
    “You would have had to proposition him for sex, honey,” Erica explained. “That’s a hooker move. Yours was a sexy, flirty move. Like, ‘Come and get it, but you know I’m’ll make you work for it!’”
    “Erica, please stop.” And then I stopped. Dead in my tracks. Erica bumped me from behind.
    “Traffic jam?” she asked.
    No, not a traffic jam. Bullet to the heart, more like.
    There he was. Sitting at a table in the far corner of the bar, sipping his usual drink with a tiny blond thing laughing beside him. I watched her say something, then lean her head against his arm. He patted her head playfully, and she swatted his hand away. He chuckled and pinched her cheek.
    He used to do that shit with me—tease me for being little. It was condescending and obnoxious , and I loved every bit of it. How can I explain? When I stood next to him, I was safe. He could envelop me in his arms, and I would disappear from the big, bad, scary world. He’d fight it off for me. Be my iron shield.
    “B?” I heard from behind, but I didn’t move. I