That Second Chance (Getting Lucky #1)(51)

“I don’t think that’s what I heard. I think I heard you say Coke sucks.”

Christ, this woman. Stubborn.

“You know, when I brought this up, I was talking about Coke and Pepsi, not Pepsi’s portfolio, if we’re really going to get technical here.”

“You’re grasping.” She grips her wineglass tightly. “Holding on to anything to give you the upper hand. I suggest you just hang up your debating pants now. I can do this all night.”

“Threatening me with a marathon argument. Is that your scare tactic? I expected better from you, Ren.”

She shakes her head, not even denying it. “Nope, I’m not.”

That makes me laugh from the pit of my stomach. “Maybe we should change the subject. Might be best if we want to savor this night at all, or this friendship, for that matter.”

Her eyelashes flutter at me as the corners of her lips curve upward. “You know, you might be right. We can change the subject, but only to salvage the only true friendship I have in this town.”

“The only one? Nah, you’re friends with my brothers too.”

“I know them well enough.” She gives me an evil grin and turns her entire body toward me. “All right, you want to change the subject?”

“Uh-oh . . . why do I feel like I’m not going to like what you say next?”

“Because I’m evil.” She rests her wineglass on her knee and spins the stem with her fingers, staring down at the red liquid swishing around. “Are you ready for this?”

I move my jaw back and forth, studying her, taking in the way her lips are perfectly pursed, challenging me, how her expression is lit up like a megawatt light bulb, and her body language doesn’t escape me, either—the way she’s leaning in toward me, the way her gaze lingers every once in a while, focusing on my forearms or the open V of my shirt.

She may think she’s subtle, but she isn’t, and hell if I’ve been able to be subtle either. Surely she’s caught me staring at the high hem of her dress, at the bright-red gloss on her lips, at the quick glimpse of her cleavage I catch when she laughs and leans forward.

The entire night has been electric between us, and it terrifies me; it’s becoming abundantly clear that I want her, and I want her bad.

She isn’t just a friend, not when I have these animalistic feelings toward her. I want to mark her as mine, take her back to my house, and make sure she knows she belongs to me.

But though my heart beats harder every time she closes the space between us, something stops me from making a move.

Fear.

An overwhelming sense of dread bites into my very soul, warning me to stay as far away as possible.

Claire was young, healthy; she was supposed to live a long life. And yet after that trip to New Orleans, she passed from a massive heart attack.

At twenty-five, I lost her so young, and even though doctors and my family tried to reassure me it was something I couldn’t have stopped, I can’t possibly believe that. After all, there was one thing I could have done . . .

I was never one to believe in curses or hexes. I’ve always believed magic was bullshit, a hoax. But fuck, it’s almost impossible not to believe when you’re in my position. I lost the love of my life a few short days after the palm reader sentenced my brothers and me to broken love.

It can’t be a coincidence.

And I don’t think I can take the chance of letting that happen again.

Not with Ren.

But fuck, her smile, her laugh, the way she looks at me as if I’m the only man on earth, the only man she’s ever truly cared about. She’s making it difficult to stay away, to keep my distance, especially tonight.

Usually at these events I make the rounds, catching up with everyone I know, but this time, I’ve been blissfully captured by Ren and have no intentions of talking to anyone else.

One night won’t hurt me.

One night spent soaking her in will be just what I need. Just a small taste, and I should be satisfied.

“You’re taking way too long to think about it.” Ren interrupts my thoughts. “You’re either ready for my inquisition or you’re not.”

“Hit me with the questions,” I respond, savoring the humor in her voice.

She allows herself a soft, adorable fist pump and then sits up straight. “Okay, who’s your favorite brother?”

“What?” I laugh, a little shocked at the balls it takes to ask that question. “Did you just ask me who my favorite brother is?”

“I did. Are you scared to answer?”

“No, just a little shocked, that’s all. You’re getting in deep, aren’t you?”

She cutely shrugs. “At least we’re not fighting about soda anymore.”

“That’s true.” I let out a long breath and grip the back of my neck. “My favorite brother? That’s tough because they are all special in their own right.”

“Cut the crap, Knightly, and answer the question.” She can’t even hold the stern voice before the words fall out of her mouth, a laugh following closely behind.

“Frankly, I’m nervous for your students in the fall.”

“You should be. I’m a devil in the classroom. Now stop avoiding the question and give me an answer. If you had to choose, gun to your head, who would it be? Don’t think; just answer.”