“Never have I ever flashed someone,” Paul said with a sly grin.

Silence settled over the table and curious eyes darted around the table until Libby took a swig of her drink. Her cheeks felt hotter than the pavement on a summer’s day.

“I did Mardi Gras for my twenty-first birthday, so sue me.”

“You wanted those beads, didn’t you?” Paul threw back his head and laughed.

“Someone dared me, and you know how I am with dares.”

His eyes darkened. “That I do.”

“Never have I ever woken up somewhere and had no idea where I was.” Des raised his glass but no one drank. “Nice to see we’re all responsible adults here.”

“Never have I ever dumped someone via text message.” Libby looked around and Gracie took a swig of her own drink.

Paul followed. “Guilty as charged.”

“That’s terrible, guys,” Libby admonished. “Don’t you think people deserve to have it said to their face?”

“The face-to-face breakup is overrated.” Paul’s lips twisted into a grimace, and Gracie nodded.

“I agree. Sometimes if you know the person is going to have a meltdown, text is better.”

“You better not do that to me.” Des pulled her into a hug and kissed the top of her head.

“Never,” Gracie said solemnly. “Okay, never have I ever been publicly dumped.”

Libby looked at her glass, contemplating a white lie. Paul would no doubt ask about it, and she hadn’t really shared anything about her past relationships. Make that relationship. Singular. After that disaster she’d never gotten close to anyone…what was the point? Her ex had only reinforced what her parents taught her—relationships were risky, especially with men who had a lot of female attention, and there was little chance of reward.

“Define publicly?” Paul toyed with his glass. “Are we talking in front of a crowd?”

Gracie drummed her fingers on the tabletop. “In front of at least one person who wasn’t in the relationship.”

Paul picked up his glass and took a longer than necessary swig, looking at Libby the whole time as if daring her to ask him about it. His eyes remained hard, his jaw set tight. So he knew what it was like? No wonder a fake relationship appealed to him.

She responded in the only way she could, raising her glass and matching his gulp with hers.

“Aww, you poor things,” Gracie said, crestfallen. “I was hoping no one would drink to that.”

“Life goes on.” Paul shrugged. “It won’t happen to me again, I’ll make damn sure of that.”

Libby reached out under the table and grabbed Paul’s hand. She had no words, nothing that would soothe the past for either of them. Screw her ex and his, too. They were great people who deserved better than to be treated like garbage.

“Never have I ever had a nickname,” Des said, breaking the tension and moving the game along.

When Libby didn’t drink, Paul’s elbow dug into her ribcage. “Why aren’t you drinking?”

“I don’t have a nickname,” she said.

Gracie looked at her incredulous. “Never?”

“It’s a lie,” Paul brought the drink to her lips and held it there. “Your nickname is Tiger, in case you’ve forgotten.”

He proceeded to stare at her until she took a sip of the drink, knowing she’d later regret accepting his declaration while he regaled the group with the story of how he came to give her the only nickname she’d ever had.

Glaring at him because she really did hate the nickname, she couldn’t stop the spread of a smile across her lips. Nicknames and in-jokes weren’t something she was used to. She’d never had any siblings to share them with, and her circle of close friends was shockingly limited.

For a moment she let herself believe that she belonged in Paul’s world…no matter how dangerous she knew it to be.

When the drinking game had devolved into dirty questions that made the girls giggle, they all agreed to call it a night. Libby hugged Gracie, and they made plans to catch up and discuss the cocktails for the wedding.

“They’re two peas in a pod, aren’t they?” Des said, folding his arms across his chest. “She’s good for you.”

They stood at the front door, the summer breeze rolling in and carrying the scent of eucalyptus from the yard.

Paul raised a brow. “How so?”

“She’s smart, fun. You’re not chasing random tail at the bar anymore, you seem…focused. Happy.”

“Yeah.” He nodded.

Happiness wasn’t something he’d ever worried much about before. He was an easygoing guy. Something that came from having low expectations. But he’d realized that there was a big difference between avoiding disappointment and being happy. Watching Libby kick goals tonight made his chest expand with pride. He was rooting for her, they were a team.

And that made him happy. The real kind of happy.

He said good-bye to Des and Gracie, his arm around Libby’s waist. Her head rested against his chest, hair falling loose of its pins. As the door shut, she stepped out of his grip.

“I have to call a cab,” she said, pressing her fingers to her temple. “There’s no way I can drive like this.”

“You’re not catching a cab on your own.” He shook his head. “Stay here.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Nice try.”

“I have a spare room, the bed’s got fresh sheets and everything. You’ll be comfortable.” He gave her a pointed look. “And safe.”

“I catch cabs by myself all the time.” She collected the empty shot glasses and tumblers from the table and carried them to the kitchen.

“Don’t tell me that.” He followed with the remainder of the bowls and glasses.

“And I don’t want you getting any ideas.” Her words were punctuated by the clatter of the plates being lowered into the sink.

He laughed. “Too late.”

“You’re terrible.” She shook her head, but a smile twitched at the corner of her lips.

“I’m a guy, and you’re the hottest woman to ever set foot in my house.” He reached around her to place the glasses in the sink, his arms brushing her waist. “Plus, I don’t like unfinished business.”

“Unfinished business?” She blinked, her eyes wide as saucers.

He trapped her against the sink, and the memory of kissing her at his parents’ house flooded him, chased by the vision of her beneath him. He was hard as a rock just thinking about it. Restless energy filled him with the need to touch, taste. Consume.

“You, me, your couch.” His hands skimmed over her waist. “An untimely visitor.”

She dropped her gaze, her hands coming up to his chest. God, he wanted those hands on him. He wanted that luscious, perfect mouth of hers on him. He wanted it all.

“So you got publicly dumped, too?” she asked, her cheek coming to rest on his chest.

If there was a quicker way for his libido to nosedive he couldn’t think of it. “Why do you want to talk about that?”

“I want to know you, Paul. I get the feeling it’s something that made an impact on you.” The heat from her breath came in slow puffs through his shirt, tickling his skin.

He shielded himself against the memory. “I came home and found her packing her things; she thought I was going to be out the whole day. Turns out she’d been cheating on me.”

“And she admitted to it?”

“Yeah.” He swallowed against the bitter taste in his mouth. “It was a bit hard for her to deny it when he was standing right there.”

Her mouth dropped, and she looked at him with exactly the kind of pity he’d wanted to avoid. “Did you know the guy?”

I more than knew him; I’d spent every Christmas, birthday, and family event with him. He was my blood, my family.

“Yeah, I knew him.” His muscles twitched.

Though he’d long stopped grieving the loss of both Sadie and his cousin, the hurt still kicked up from the bottom of his soul every so often like dirt at the bottom of a lake. He hadn’t spoken to his cousin since that day, hadn’t even uttered his name once.

“Do you want to hear my story?” She tilted her head.