Well Played (Well Met #2)(22)
That was a valid question, considering that Emily’s book club still didn’t have a ton of members. But tequila made me optimistic. “It’s been great so far. They can have the depressing, important books. We read the fun ones with sex in them.”
A laugh escaped April’s mouth, a loud guffaw that I wouldn’t have expected from her. She clapped a hand over her mouth to contain the sound, but her eyes grinned at me. “Now that . . .” She trailed off. “. . . That is something I can get behind. I mean, if that’s the only way I can get any, I’m in.”
“I hear that.” I grinned, a little harder than was necessary, but again, tequila. “Go to the store. Emily will hook you up with the book.”
“I can’t believe she didn’t tell me about it. Em, why didn’t you tell me about the sexy book club?” She glanced over her shoulder, and I stifled a giggle. Emily’s arms were around Simon’s neck and he had her backed up against the bar, his hands low on her hips. She fiddled with the hair at the nape of his neck, and they didn’t have eyes for anyone else. There was no way Emily was thinking about book clubs, sexy or not.
My instinct was to avert my eyes, that feeling of being an intruder on someone else’s happiness coming back to the forefront. April obviously felt no such desire. Instead she whacked her little sister on the arm. “Get a room, you two! You do know you’re out in public, right?”
Simon backed away a step, a flush climbing up his neck as he ran a hand through his hair. He at least had the grace to look a little mortified, but Emily just rolled her eyes and whacked April right back with a grin.
“Nothing wrong with kissing my fiancé at midnight,” she said.
“It’s not midnight.” I handed her a shot glass.
“That’s right, it’s eleven forty-seven, so keep it in your pants for another thirteen minutes.” But April was smiling through her admonition, and we three girls did one more shot together for good measure.
Ooof. That was four shots in a very short amount of time, and with the way my fingers and toes were tingling, I was feeling the effects pretty quickly. I ordered a glass of water and squeezed two lime wedges into it. The alcohol had taken hold, and my muscles felt loose. I took slow sips of water as the room got just swimmy enough for me to feel good. A little silly. A lot happy. Happy New Year.
I’d taken an Uber to the bar, and I took another one home. Good planning ahead, Past Stacey. After another glass of water with a couple aspirin to stave off tomorrow’s hangover, I crawled into bed, switching on my fairy lights so I could see enough to plug in my phone. When it blinked to life, there was a notification. An email.
To: Stacey Lindholm
From: Dex MacLean
Date: January 1, 12:32 a.m.
Subject: Re: Happy New Year
I hope that you managed to stay warm, and that you didn’t get any snow while you were out tonight. I like to think of you as being as safe and warm as you wished I was. And I am. There are usually bars to hit up and parties to attend, but I ended up staying in tonight. Long talks with family ended up being a good way to say goodbye to this old year.
And now I’m sending you an email to say hello to the new year. Start as you mean to go on. I hope you had a great time out with friends, and that there was someone there to kiss you at midnight since it can’t be me.
I thought about getting my laptop, but it was on the other side of my apartment and I was tucked in bed with Benedick purring in my lap. So instead I pecked out a response on my phone.
To: Dex MacLean
From: Stacey Lindholm
Date: January 1, 1:13 a.m.
Subject: Re: Re: Happy New Year
It was a great evening, thank you. A smidge too much tequila but that’s how a lot of these nights go. No one at the bar worthy of kissing, but I gave Benedick a smooch and he didn’t seem to mind.
A response came almost immediately.
To: Stacey Lindholm
From: Dex MacLean
Date: January 1, 1:16 a.m.
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Happy New Year
I take it back. I don’t know if I want someone there kissing you. Who the hell is Benedick, and why did his mother name him after a Shakespeare character? I can’t believe this. You’re out there getting kissed while I rang in the new year at the kitchen table with my uncle Morty.
A warm glow bloomed through my skin, almost as intense as the tequila buzz that had subsided about a half hour ago. Dex was jealous. This was wonderful.
I flipped to my camera and scooped up a sleepy Benedick. He barely moved as I took a selfie of the two of us, me planting a kiss onto his fluffy head. He’d lived with me long enough that he was used to me demanding photos; sometimes he even seemed to enjoy his little bursts of Instagram fame. If a cat knew what Instagram was. I deposited him back into my lap, where he purred and snuggled into my belly as I cropped the photo, brightening it since the fairy lights were kind of dark. I started to switch back to my email, but after a moment’s hesitation, closed out of the email and opened up my contacts instead. I’d never sent Dex a text before, because texting had felt too intimate. I wasn’t sure if it was the lingering tequila, the lateness of the hour, or the buoyant knowledge that a man who looked like Dex was actually upset that someone else might have been kissing me. Whatever it was, I was feeling intimate. Besides, pictures from phones sent better via text than email. So I selected his number and attached the picture to a text.