“Deal.”
Regan sipped her drink. “How does your brother feel about you coming back?”
“He’s happy about it. He’s not the same Jake he used to be, not after the war, but he sounded excited about it.”
Now that he was a civilian again, Jake worked at a private security agency called Shillings Agency. He’d gotten out of the marines only recently, after injuring his leg. He wasn’t the same man anymore. He was quiet. Reserved. Serious. Not even remotely similar to the daredevil he used to be. And he definitely wanted his big sister to come back home.
He was finally getting his wish.
Christine brushed her hair over her shoulder, using the opportunity to peek backward again. She couldn’t concentrate on these things when at any second, a green-eyed, brown-haired, smooth-talking devil could walk through the door. She hadn’t really thought about him much at all over these past eight years, but now that she’d seen him again? She couldn’t think of anything else.
How utterly irritating.
“Holy crap. Why is Tyler wearing that god-awful shirt?” Regan whispered to Christine. “It’s got tropical flowers on it, for the love of God.”
Christine blinked and yanked herself out of her head, scanning the room with a racing heart. “Huh? He didn’t have it on earlier. Where is he? I don’t see him.”
“I know. But now I know you saw him already.” Regan looked at her skeptically. “I’d suspected as much, considering the way you’re acting. So, how did it go?”
Christine shifted in her seat. Regan didn’t know about her and Tyler. No one did. It was their dirty little secret. So what was Regan hinting at? Christine smiled. “It was fine. Why wouldn’t it be? We barely know each other.”
That much was true. They just knew what each other looked like naked, is all.
“You tell me,” Regan said, watching Christine too closely. “Every time someone mentions him, you tend to zone out and pretend he’s not real. Now that you’ve seen him, you’re acting like a space cadet. Something’s going on.”
“My distraction has nothing to do with him.” Christine forced a smile. “I’m just tired.”
“I know a good remedy for tired,” Regan said, using air quotes around the word “tired.” “Want me to share it?”
“Does it involve a hot man and a bed?” Christine asked, biting down on the corner of her lower lip to keep from laughing, since she knew it almost certainly did. “Because that’s totally on my list.”
“Ah, yes. The sexy list of ‘things to do while unemployed.’”
“I’m not unemployed,” Christine whispered, peeking at Kady. “I just didn’t start my new job yet. Thanks for the help, by the way.”
“Don’t mention it,” Regan said, waving away the fact that she’d helped Christine get her new job. “Back to the fun stuff…let’s talk about the party train you have planned. It’s about time you started living life instead of reading about it.” Regan leaned closer, her expensive perfume wafting over. “But as far as my earlier remedy goes? The bed’s optional.”
Christine laughed. “I’ll make a side note on my list.”
Julie came back in the room leading a wide-eyed woman by the arm who looked a lot like Colt, Kady’s soon-to-be husband. She had to be his little sister, Sophie. She carried herself with the same determined manner, and squared her jaw in the exact same way Colt did when he was dead set on winning an argument. But Christine saw the way her eyes flitted about the room and recognized the signs all too easily.
Sophie was nervous as hell.
“Hello, I’m Christine,” she said, smiling and reaching out to squeeze the other woman’s hand. “Your brother told me so much about you.”
Sophie smiled shyly. “Don’t believe everything you hear from him.”
“Honey? I’m a journalist. I fact-check everything,” Christine said with a wink.
Kady looked past Christine toward the entrance, let out a little squeal, and took off. If she was excited, it meant the men were here. If the men were here…
Tyler was behind her.
Had he been angry when he returned and found her gone? Or had he been relieved not to have to act all compassionate toward a woman he would rather not deal with?
Lifting her glass, she chugged the rest of her champagne. She wouldn’t turn around and check him out. She wouldn’t take a look at all the things she’d been remembering since she crashed into him, like how huge his biceps had felt. Or how soft his hair had been. Or how her stomach had tightened when her br**sts had brushed his chest and—
Argh. She was doing it again. Thinking about him.
Time to stop. Maybe she should cross something off her sex list tonight. Find a stranger to make out with. That shouldn’t be too hard…but it wouldn’t happen if Tyler was in the same room. She’d be too busy trying not to look at him.
Regan leaned forward in her seat. “All right, tell me about these groomsmen so I can decide which lucky one gets to see me naked.”
Christine stiffened. Not Tyler. Not Tyler.
Just because she didn’t want him and he didn’t want her didn’t mean she wanted him with someone else. Yeah, super logical. But it didn’t matter if the logic didn’t make sense. She didn’t want to watch him hanging all over someone else, like, ever.
He could become a priest or something. That wasn’t asking too much.
When it came to men, Regan was everything that Christine wasn’t. Confident. Assertive. Fearless. Christine had no problem asserting herself professionally, or channeling confidence and bravery when necessary to get the story, because when it came to the job, she always knew what she was doing.
Personally? Yeah. Not so much. But hey, at least she was aware of her faults. She also spent way too much time playing Flappy Bird, loved all things Kardashian, and thought man had never actually walked on the moon. Oh, and she drooled when she was drunk, too. Apparently, she could add selfishly not wanting to see Tyler happy with anyone else, even though she didn’t want him, to that list.
She could live with that.
“So, who wants to bag a groomsman with me?” Regan asked. “Don’t leave me in this alone.”
“I’m in,” Julie blurted. Christine shot her a surprised look. Of all people, she hadn’t expected Julie to jump in on the idea. Julie prided herself on being the quintessential Southern lady—not the type for a one-night stand. “We’re on vacation, right? I want to be seen naked, too.”