Be the Girl(69)

“Hey. Little Harty’s here, too!” Zach flashes a sloppy grin. He’s already had a few beers. And possibly some weed, based on his lazy red eyes. “Come on over here, Cass.” He shifts his big body, squishing the guys next to him, making room for her in the corner.

“Okay, Farmer.” She laughs as she heads for the couch, shrugging off her coat, letting it land on the floor. She settles in, her eyes locking on Zach, studying him. In this unknown and unsettling arena, she has found her anchor.

Emmett snaps the caps off the bottles and hands me one as he takes in the scene before him—five hockey players and his little sister at a party—with a smirk.

“See? She’s going to be fine,” I assure him.

“You’re right. I’m glad we brought her out. She deserves to do things like this. She’s like everyone else. She just wants to have fun.” He tips the neck of his bottle and clanks it against mine. “Cheers. Happy birthday.”

“Not for another”—I check a clock on the wall—“three hours.”

“Just practicing.” He leans in to press his lips against mine in a teasing kiss and my knees weaken.

“Wait … what?” Cassie exclaims, and we turn to see her staring at us. Her eyes flip from our faces to the bottles in our hands, and to our faces again—as if she’s trying to decide if us kissing or us drinking beer is more bewildering.

Emmett’s free hand curls around my waist, pulling my body against his.

“Oh, you didn’t know about them yet?” Zach grits his teeth as his player loses the puck. “Your brother stole AJ from me.”

“He did?”

“No.”

Cassie grins. “You’re joking.”

“I am joking.”

She considers us another moment and then mutters, “’Kay, whatever.”

“Exactly, Cass. Whatever.” Zach jabs at his remote control with feverish thumbs. A loud chorus of curses explodes as his opponent—I think his name is Ben—throws his remote on the couch and climbs out of his seat, heading for the fridge, an empty beer can dangling from his fingers.

“Get over here so I can finally kick your ass at something, Harty.”

With one last kiss that makes my legs wobble, Emmett joins the fold.





“No, no, no, no … ah!” Emmett tosses his remote and sinks into the couch beside me with a groan, as a round of raucous cheers erupts. His hand slips over my knee to casually rest on my thigh.

“Time to give someone else a shot.” Zach turns to Cassie. “Want to try and beat me?”

“No. It’s okay.” She shakes her head, her eyes flickering across the faces surrounding us. People have been trickling into the apartment over the past hour and, where it was once eight of us, there must be forty people milling in here now, everyone save for Cassie drinking. I’m guessing she doesn’t want to bring attention to herself.

The door creaks open and Emmett curses under his breath, his jaw tensing. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

A quick glance and I see why. Holly’s there, arm in arm with Adam.

“That guy is such a dick,” he mutters.

“Jen told me you fought him?”

“He told Cassie that there was no such thing as Santa Claus last year. I know, she was fourteen and it was probably time someone told her, but he did it to hurt her.” Emmett glares at the stocky guy. “We were friends for years. We played on the same team. Our families hung out a lot. But I got better and he didn’t, and they cut him. He got pissed that I didn’t drop down a division to keep playing with him.” Emmett shakes his head. “I can’t believe she’d go after him.”

“Do you care that Holly’s with someone else?” Jealousy flares inside me with the possibility.

He seems to consider that. “I’d be lying if I didn’t say it’s weird to see her with someone else, but no. She’s not the person I thought she was. At least we’ve both moved on.” He leans into me. He’s downed three beers already and his body is relaxed against me. “Maybe she’ll see us and leave.”

If only … “Is the bathroom down that hall?”

With Emmett’s nod, I squeeze his knee and head for it, thankful it’s available.

I take my time, checking my makeup and clothes, fluffing my waves, hoping Emmett’s right and she’s gone by the time I come back.

Something tells me that’s not likely to happen, though.

I reemerge to find Emmett waiting in a casual pose, his back pressed against the wall, his hands in his pockets.

“All yours.” I gesture behind me.

“I like the sound of that.” With a grin, he herds me against the wall in the corner, his face dipping into my neck, the smell of his body wash and shampoo teasing my senses. His lips skate across my skin, sending my blood racing through my veins. “How much longer do I have to wait?” he whispers, his grip on my waist tightening.

“Uh … I …,” I stammer as my body tenses. Is he asking what I think he’s asking? “I’m not sure?”

“Two hours left till midnight?”

It dawns on me that he’s talking about my birthday, and I release a nervous laugh. “Oh. Yeah. Just under.” It’s ten after ten now.