Take Your Time (Boston Love #4)(83)
The sight sends a bolt of jealousy through me.
It’s silly, of course — I know she’s with Parker. But there’s a part of me that’s always wondered whether Luca was a little bit in love with his oldest friend. They both insist their relationship has never been anything but platonic, that they’re more like siblings than a couple… but watching them now, envy stirs inside my chest, unpleasant and unwanted.
“They’re quite the pair, huh?”
The voice cuts into my reverie. Startled, I turn and find Colton leaning against the railing by my side, his blonde surfer-boy looks even more attractive in the fading evening light. He’s watching me with a smirk, clearly amused he’s caught me spying.
“I wasn’t—”
“It’s okay. I won’t tell.” His dimples pop out. “Always thought they’d end up together.” He pauses, taking a slow sip of his scotch. “No offense.”
“None taken,” I murmur.
“Still could, I suppose.” He says it in an offhand way, as if we’re discussing the weather instead of the demise of two relationships. “Given the right circumstances.”
I feel my temper spark to life.
My brows arch at him. “And what circumstances would those be, exactly?”
Colton’s good-boy facade falls away. The dimples disappear. The easygoing smile flattens into a frown.
“Listen, you seem like a decent enough human being, and ordinarily I’d have no problem with you dating one of my friends.” The words are blunt, emotionless. “Thing is, though, Luca isn’t just one of my friends. He’s Blaze Buchanan. He’s the best fighter anyone’s seen come up through the ranks in decades. He’s got a real shot at greatness. Not just the regional-league shit he’s doing now, the small-time endorsements and payouts — I’m talking a UFC contract. Millions of dollars in his pocket, every fight. An international audience. Sponsorships. Travel. More fans than you can fathom.” He stares at me. “It’ll change his entire life.”
“I know that,” I murmur.
“Then you also know he’s got a championship in just over a week. Fighting a mean-ass fucker named Jack Forrester whose nickname is Lumberjack because he’s built like a damn oak tree and even harder to knock down.” He leans closer, swirling the amber liquid in his highball glass. “Luca should be in the gym with me every day, either training or studying tapes of Forrester’s latest fights. He should be in the zone right now, fully focused. Fully dedicated. You know where he’s been instead?”
My throat feels tight.
“With you,” Colton mutters. “Distracted. Unfocused. Off his training schedule. He’s going to lose this fight, lose everything he’s ever wanted, his entire life… because of you.” He shakes his head at me and takes a generous sip of his scotch. “Pretty selfish, if you ask me.”
“I didn’t,” I snap, but it sounds thin.
Colton stares at me. “Wonder how he’ll feel about you when he wakes up and realizes you singlehandedly ruined his life? That he threw it all away over a good fuck and a hot piece of ass?” He makes a sound of disgust. “Fucking crime, that’s what it is. They should charge you with homicide for killing his dream.”
Unwilling to listen to any more, I turn and walk away from him. I don’t make it far; his hand clamps down on my elbow in a tight grip. I try to shake him off, but I can’t.
“Lila,” he says in my ear. “Might be hard for you to hear, but deep down you know I’m right. You should let him walk away.”
“You should let me walk away.” I tug at my arm, but I’m still held fast. His grip bites harshly into my flesh until tears gather in my eyes. “Before Luca comes over here and pummels you for touching me.”
With a sharp scoff, he releases me. His words float after me as I bolt toward the dance floor.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
I shake myself, wishing I weren’t so affected by everything he said. I tell myself he’s totally off base as I rejoin my friends on the dance floor, forcing a smile and shimmying my shoulders to the beat. But beneath my happy mask, where no one can see, my heart pounds so hard I can barely breathe.
In lieu of the traditional father-daughter dance, Phoebe waltzes across the parquet floor with Parker, giggling as he spins and dips her. After a few moments, the jazz singer they hired for the reception issues a husky invitation into the microphone, inviting all others in love to step onto the floor for a slow song.
I watch Chrissy and her husband Mark walk out, hand in hand. Gemma and Chase are close behind. Parker hands Phoebe off to Nate, then takes Zoe in his arms and begins to sway.
With a fortifying sip of champagne, I decide to take a timely trip to the ladies’ room. I turn around and bump straight into Luca, since he’s standing about a millimeter behind me.
“Jesus!” I throw a hand over my heart. “You scared me!”
He reaches out, plucks the flute from my grip, and sets it on a nearby table. “Dance with me.”
“What?” I ask, heart pounding.
“Dance with me.”
It’s not a question. He’s not asking. His hand finds the small of my back as he leads me out onto the dance floor, and then his arms go around me. Pulling me close to his chest, so my head rests in the hollow of his throat, I listen to his pulse pounding and let him lead. The jazz singer is crooning an Adele song, the lyrics hitting a bit too close to home.