Page 9

“I don’t know, Frogger,” she says, and then she gives me a look, as if to say, See, there are men who find me attractive.

I press my lips together before stepping forward. I should have known as soon as I saw her in that red dress that the night was going to spell trouble for me.

“Rosie and I were having a conversation, and right now, she’s not going to be able to dance with you.” I step toward the man, and I can see his expression change as he takes me in. I push my shoulders back and give him an intimidating look. A look that says that if he doesn’t back off, he’s going to find himself in trouble.

“I see.” He lets go of Rosie reluctantly and shifts back. “Maybe later.”

“I don’t think so.” I shake my head, and he makes his way back over to another group of women.

“What was that all about?” She glares at me. “Why are you chasing off my men?”

“If you were sober, you’d realize that man was a douchebag and not the sort of man you should be wasting your time with.” I wave her over to the now-crowded bar. “I think it’s time for you to go home now, Rosie. I can give you, Izzy, and Lucia a ride.”

“Excuse me? I’m not ready to go home. Plus, I thought you and Dalton and Roman were hanging out tonight.”

“We decided to stick around Mama’s to make sure everything went smoothly.”

“Well, it did, and it still is, and I’m having the best night.”

“Flirting with idiotic men?”

“What sort of comment is that, Brett?” She turns to face me, downs the rest of her drink quickly, and then places it on the bar top. “Are you jealous or something?” She points at me while simultaneously dancing back and forth to the music.

I try to ignore the sway of her hips as she moves.

“Jealous of what?”

“All the men who want me?”

“Not at all.”

“Yeah, okay.” She laughs and grabs my hand. “You’re so jealous.”

“Absolutely not.”

“You protested far too quickly.”

She starts jumping up and down as the song changes, and I watch as she shakes her head back and forth. Her dark hair cascades past her shoulders as she sings.

“I love this song.” She grins over at me. “Don’t you?”

“Never heard it before in my life.” I try to disentangle myself from her grip, but she keeps dancing next to me. “Rosie, I think you’re drunk. I think you should go home and⁠—”

“I don’t want to go home. I want to dance. Dance with me, Brett.”

“I’m not a dancer.”

“I’ll teach you.”

“I don’t want lessons.” I frown and pull her back, attempting to still her body. “Plus, I don’t think you’re in any shape to be a teacher right now.”

“You’re such a bore, Brett,” she mutters, and I feel something twitch inside of me. “I thought we were friends. Don’t you want to show me that⁠—”

“Our friendship has nothing to do with me dancing with you.”

“Then stop telling me I can’t dance with other men.”

“I never said you can’t dance with other men.” I step toward her and still as she runs her fingers down the front of my chest and sings to me. “What are you doing, Rosie?”