Until December (Until Her/Him #8)(2)

“Whoever he is, I’m taking him home tonight,” my sister says, and my stomach plummets. “God, he’s hot. I can’t wait.”

I swallow the sudden unexpected jealousy I’m feeling and really wish I hadn’t agreed to be her DD, because I don’t just need a drink, I need a whole bottle of tequila right now.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” I hiss, cutting her off and catching her gaze.

“Getting laid is not stupid. You’d know that if you ever tried it once in a while.”

I bite my tongue to keep myself from saying something mean then look around the room for a place to escape. The sign for the restroom is like a neon flashing light catching my attention. I stand up. “I’ll be back,” I mumble, before I scurry away with my head down and my heart lodged in my throat.

Since growing up, my sisters and I have had a rule. If one of us likes a guy, he’s completely off limits, even if he’s not interested in whoever has a crush on him. That rule has saved us on more than one occasion, but now I wish the stupid rule didn’t exist. When I get to the restroom, I walk to one of the stalls and stand there trying to get myself under control.

I know April, know she’s probably already made a move to talk to whoever he is, and know without a doubt that he will be interested, because I have never met a guy who isn’t interested in her. She’s beautiful, funny, and outgoing—three things I am not. I’m cute enough, can be funny when I’m with my friends or family, but it takes time for me to warm up to people I don’t know. I’m also the opposite of outgoing. I prefer books and laziness to getting out and having adventures. I have always been the same way.

After I know I’m not going to do something crazy, like punch my sister in the face, I leave the bathroom and start to head toward the bar, figuring one glass of wine won’t hurt. I place my order with the bartender then lean into the wood bar top with my forearms.

“You’re Sage’s cousin, right?” a deep voice asks, and my hair stands on end while butterflies take flight in my stomach.

I don’t have to look to know it’s him speaking. Still, I tip my head way back to catch his gaze. Lord, save me. He’s tall and so beautiful. I thought I got that from across the room, but seeing him up close is something else.

“I think he told me you were.” His brows draw together over his blue eyes surrounded by thick lashes as I stare at him.

I mentally slap myself and force my mouth to start working. “Yes, I’m December.”

His brow relaxes and he leans into the bar next to me with his hip, crossing his arms over his chest. “Another month.” His eyes twinkle with humor.

“Pardon?”

“Met a July, June, May, and April. Now, December.”

At the mention of April, my stomach twists. “Our parents were keeping with a theme.” I pick up my wine and take a very unladylike gulp. Why didn’t I see him first?

“Gareth.” His hand comes my way. I don’t want to take it, really don’t want to, but my manners force me to place my hand in his. When his rough, warm strength envelops my hand, my breath sticks in my lungs. “It’s nice to meet you.”

I lick my lips, and whisper, “You too.” With my hand still held in his, his gaze searches mine. The intense look in his eyes makes me feel funny, makes me feel like he sees some part of me I don’t even know about.

“I thought you weren’t drinking.” My eyes close, blocking out Gareth, as April suddenly tosses her arm around my shoulders. “You’re such a rebel, drinking wine when you’re supposed to get me home safely.”

“It’s just one glass. I’ll be fine to drive you home later.” I open my eyes and turn my head to look at her.

“I know,” she agrees, looking at me, and then she looks at Gareth and smiles. “My sister is a good girl. She always follows the rules.”

God, I really wish that weren’t true.



“Ember.” Warm fingers wrap around my jaw, and I blink away the memory and focus on Gareth’s handsome face that is closer than before.

“Did you just call me Ember?” I frown, offended he’s forgotten my name already.

“Baby, your name represents the cold, but standing in front of you, I feel nothing but heat.”

“It’s because I’m drunk.”

“What?”

“My body is producing heat in order to burn off the alcohol I’ve consumed,” I tell him matter-of-factly. I leave out that the feel of his hard muscles pressed against my soft body is making me stupid, causing my mouth to form words and speak them without my permission.

“Maybe we should get you somewhere you can cool down.”

“I’m outside,” I point out while looking around.

“Yeah, but I was thinking more along the lines of a cold shower.”

She’s always a good girl.

April’s words from earlier ring through my mind and my hand balls into a fist. Screw that. For once in my life, I’m going to be bad.





One


December

BEFORE I EVEN open my eyes, I know I’m not in my bed. The sheet I’m under isn’t soft but rough, and there is bright light pooling in through my normally dark curtains. Still... it’s not the sheets nor the bright light seeping through my closed eyelids that leads me to the conclusion that I’m not in my bed. It’s the scent of musk and man, and the heavy arm holding me close. I want to relish the feeling of being held like I am. I want to soak up every detail of this moment, but I know... I know the arm holding me so close, so possessively, is the same one that could start a war between me and my sister. Even if April was enjoying the company of another man last night, rules are rules, and my no longer drunken mind reminds me of them loudly in the bright light of day.