Page 29 of The Flight Risk

“I sleep fine.” Actually, I’ve never slept better. Oakley’s mattress is apparently made out of clouds. I’m going to have to look at the brand of mattress because I may have to invest in one for my own apartment soon. If I can afford it on my teacher’s salary.

“I’m sure you do.” Brooke wiggles her eyebrows.

“Will you stop?”

“Never. Has anything happened since you walked in on him in the shower?” The male bartender gives us a funny look as he sets down the IPAs and busies himself with making our espresso martinis.

“Brooke Beckett soon-to-be-Lawson, will you keep your voice down.” Oakley and Tristan are finally heading toward us. Every woman at this rooftop bar is gawking at the two strikingly handsome men gliding toward us like the vampires in Twilight.

Brooke leans in. “You didn’t jump in the shower with him right then and there because…?”

“Because, Oakley is different, okay? I’ve never felt this way about anyone and I don’t want to screw things up because of my stupid hormones. Plus, other than him being the one to kiss me, he hasn’t really made another move.”

Our espresso martinis magically appear next to us. I take a large sip, hoping it will be a reverse love potion for my attraction to Oakley.

I have avoided any alone time with him at the house since our steamy run-in a few days ago. Whenever I hear him in the kitchen, I take a little extra time getting ready in the morning until the front door closes. I’ve been pushing it with getting to work on time, but I can’t risk bumping into him. It’s too dangerous. I don’t trust myself around him and I don’t want to ruin our friendship.

I thought maybe we could break the ice when he offered to drive to meet up with Tristan and Brooke. It was a Lottie-free zone, but it seemed he was following my lead of avoidance because the car ride over here was so silent, I could hear a pin drop. It was extremely difficult not to notice how handsome he looks tonight in his dark gray slacks and white button-up. He decidedly wants to torture me with his rolled-up sleeves, baring his veiny forearms. I found myself biting my bottom lip every time he shifted gears and gripped onto the steering wheel. Every move he makes is pushing me closer to the edge.

But I’m determined not to focus on him tonight. This is a night for me. I’m wearing my favorite black, backless cocktail dress and have never felt more confident. It’s the boost I need after living with a man who, even after kissing me as if it were our last kiss, hasn’t advanced the plot any further.

“Tess, he was saying your name in that shower. He clearly wants you. It’s your move, babe. Take it.” Brooke sips her own martini as Tristan slips behind her, finding her hip with one hand and his beer in the other.

Oakley sneaks up behind me. The fabric of his dress shirt skims across my bare back. I suck in a breath. Just friends. Who made out with each other once. And one of us saw the other completely naked with his dick in his hand. But no big deal.

Brooke and Tristan are off in la la land, leaving me up to my own defective devices. “It’s a nice night tonight.”

“Are we really going to talk about the weather?” His deep voice reverberates through my body. He cocks an eyebrow at me and his jaw clenches.

“Is there another scintillating topic you would like to discuss, Oakley?” I match his expression and purse my red stained lips. The air thickens between us, just like it did in that closet doorway, and I can’t stop thinking about his hand stroking his huge cock. My name escaping his lips as he was doing so. My willpower is weakening by the second with this man.

“Actually…” He leans down, his lips barely grazing the top of my ear. To Brooke’s earlier point, if I was a bystander, I would totally come to the conclusion that Oakley and I are together.

“Lewis, party of four!” The host calls out. He thankfully does not seem like a hockey fan because he is oblivious about the two men standing next to me and my best friend. I put the reservation down in my name because, out of the four of us, no one would blink an eye at Lewis. Lawson, Beckett and Oakley, on the other hand, are very conspicuous names here in Dallas, especially since all their faces are plastered around the city on billboards on every major highway in the metroplex.

Oakley and I end up sitting on a small blue-and-white striped couch while Brooke and Tristan share an even smaller chair on the other side of the fire pit. Tristan’s hand is hugging Brooke’s ass. Both of them are still so lost in each other that they don’t notice me and Oakley adjusting our bodies away from each other. This couch is so small that our thighs are touching, causing my already short dress to inch up. Oakley clears his throat and adjusts his watch, seemingly affected by my rising hemline.

We order a bunch of appetizers and continue drinking. Well, I should say Brooke and I continue to drink our espresso martinis. The boys try not to drink too much, if at all, during the season. More people are surrounding the bar and the music is getting louder as the night goes on. The Edison bulbs strung overhead and tall silver space heaters surrounding us are the only illumination in the open space. “Do you want another?” I ask Brooke and she nods.

This feels nice. There’s a small part of me that feels guilty for not being with Lottie, but she assured me she will be fine. Lottie isn’t like her mother in a lot of ways. She’s very responsible and doesn’t need to be the center of attention. It gives me peace of mind that I can, in fact, trust her.

I reach the bar, nod to the bartender and raise up two fingers. He graciously understands the assignment and begins making another round of espresso martinis.

“Hey, sweetheart, can I buy you a drink?” Sweetheart. I cringe. Sleazy.

I glance in the direction of the man who just called me a term of endearment that I don’t find endearing in any way. At least not from someone like him. He is tall, wearing a suit and tie, as if that’s supposed to immediately impress me. I’ve been with guys like him on more than one occasion. He has no idea that I’m capable of handling myself. I may be small, but I’m mighty.

“Thank you, but I’m okay. I can pay for my own drinks.” The bartender sets the two drinks down in front of me. “Thanks.”

“C’mon, I really want to buy you one. And a pretty little thing like you shouldn’t be buying her own drinks.” He gets closer to me and touches my back.

I recoil and turn my back in the other direction so I’m facing him head on. “I said no, thank you.”

His tone gets defensive. “So, do you have a boyfriend or something?”

I dial up the fake smile as much as I can. “Would you leave me alone if I said yes?”

“Well, yeah.”