Almost Just Friends (Wildstone #4)(3)

“It’s your party. And if you’d told Gavin and Winnie about it, they’d be here helping you celebrate too.”

Just what she needed, to give her twenty-seven-going-on-seventeen-year-old brother and her not-quite-legal-to-drink sister a reason to party. “I told them not to come. Gavin’s busy at his job in Phoenix, and Winnie’s working hard on her grades at UCSB.”

“They’re lucky to have you, I hope they know that,” Jenna said genuinely. “Look, you work so hard keeping all of you going. But today, at the very least, you should have some fun.”

“I hear you. But keep that in mind.” She pointed to the sign hanging above the bar:

WARNING:

ALCOHOL MAY MAKE THE PEOPLE IN THIS PLACE APPEAR BETTER-LOOKING THAN THEY REALLY ARE.

Jenna laughed but wasn’t deterred from taking in the closest table to the bar, where three guys sat drinking and talking.

“Don’t you dare.”

“Who here is single?” Jenna asked the table.

Two of the guys pointed to the third.

“You?” Jenna asked him, clearly wanting confirmation.

He took a beat to check Jenna out. She was channeling Beach Barbie tonight, with her wild blond hair rioting around her pretty face, her athletic build emphasized by tightly fitted fancy yoga gear.

“Yeah,” the guy said. “I’m most definitely single.”

“Good. Because it’s my friend’s birthday.” She turned to gesture at Piper, who froze in the act of trying to sneak off.

“Why is she hiding in the corner writing in a book?” Single Guy wanted to know.

Jenna looked at Piper. “Well, we’re not all perfect. But she’s got a lot going for her. She’s friendly . . . ish. And she’s got all her shots, and is potty-trained to boot. I mean, yeah, okay, sometimes she hides out in bars writing in her diary. But hey, who doesn’t, am I right?”

Looking alarmed, Single Guy turned back to his friends.

“Gee,” Piper said dryly. “And you made me sound like such a catch too.”

Jenna shrugged. “Maybe he’s not a diary fan.”

“Yeah. That’s definitely it. And it’s a journal.”

“Don’t you worry,” Jenna said. “I’m not done.”

“Please be done.”

But Jenna was now eyeballing the man who’d just taken a barstool a few seats down. Ohmygod, she mouthed. That’s him. That’s New Hot Guy!

He was in military green cargoes and a black Henley that hugged his long, leanly muscled body. He had dark hair, dark eyes, and dark scruff, all of which went with his quietly dark expression that said not feeling social.

Jenna started to stand up for round two of Let’s Embarrass Piper.

“Don’t you dare!”

“Hey,” Jenna said to the man, who nodded in return. “So . . . you’re a guy.”

“Last time I checked,” he said.

Jenna jerked a thumb toward Piper. “It’s my best friend’s birthday.”

Hot Guy’s gaze locked on Piper, who was wishing for an invisibility cloak.

“She’s made herself a list,” Jenna said, and helpfully turned the journal his way.

Honest to God, Piper had no idea why she loved this woman.

Hot Guy read the list, rubbed the sexy scruff on his jaw, and then spoke to Piper. “Is this for you or your grandma?”

Jenna snorted. “That’s actually her nickname. Grandma.”

“Some wingman you are.” Piper snatched up the journal and closed it.

“What does the ‘me time’ entail?” Hot Guy asked.

“Pretty sure it involves batteries,” Jenna said.

“Okay.” Piper pointed at her. “You know what? You’re cut off.”

“Notice that she didn’t answer the question,” Jenna muttered.

“It doesn’t involve batteries!” Jeez. No way was she going to admit what it involved was a nap.

Jenna took the journal, flipped to the right page, and added something to her list:

Get laid.



Then she drew an arrow pointing at Hot Guy.

The guy nodded in approval. “Now you’ve got a list.”

“Keep dreaming, buddy.” Piper shook her head at Jenna. “And you. Are you kidding me? You wrote that in ink.” Which meant it couldn’t be erased. And Piper couldn’t rip it out either. You couldn’t just rip out a page from a bullet journal; it went against how she’d been coded. She supposed she should just be grateful Jenna hadn’t turned to the next page and revealed her secret secret bucket list.

Jenna turned to Hot Guy. “Listen, don’t let her bad attitude scare you. She’s all bark and no bite.”

He shrugged. “I like bite.” And his and Piper’s eyes locked. His were an intense, assessing hazel, a swirling, mesmerizing mix of green, brown, and gold. He was good-looking, but so were a lot of men. He was clearly in good shape—also not all that uncommon. But there was something else, something intangible that created an odd fluttering in her belly, and it took her a moment to recognize it for what it was—interest. Which made no sense. She wasn’t looking for anything, and he . . . Well, in spite of his easy engagement in their conversation, his eyes seemed . . . hollow, and he hadn’t cracked a single smile.