Thane's Redemption. Nina Crespo

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СКАЧАТЬ seat, silently cursing the shoes, the dress, and the two master intimidators who’d made her squeeze into them.

      “Wow, it’s packed.” Ari sat down and tucked her bag next to her jean-clad thigh with room to spare. “I still can’t believe you won tickets for tonight and threw them away.” She smoothed a strand of short, wavy, brown hair behind her ear. Her gold earrings winked accusingly in the low light of votives on the table.

      “Will you please let it go?” Celine dropped her clutch in front of her. “I honestly don’t remember entering the contest.” With a mound of mail to sort through after a long day at the shop, she’d considered the red envelope junk. “You usually go clubbing in Orlando or Miami, anyway. What’s so special about this place?”

      “Thane’s Redemption.” Lauren flipped her hair over her shoulder. “They’ve been playing here for the past few weeks.”

      “Yeah, and everybody loves them.” Ari added. “They’re the main reason I come to this place.”

      “No.” Lauren smirked. “You come here for Mr. Hot-Ass-Scorching-Twelve.”

      Considering Lauren’s pickiness when it came to men, Celine’s curiosity was piqued. “Exactly what does a hot-ass twelve look like?”

      Ari adjusted her bronze shoulder strap and leaned in, clearly dying to spill the deets. “He’s tall—”

      Lauren hooted a laugh. “Maybe you shouldn’t lead with that one. My eight-year-old nephew is taller than you.”

      “Please. Your whole family including your nephew’s ugly dog is a giant.” Ari turned to Celine. “Anyway, as I was saying. The lead singer has long, dark hair, gorgeous eyes, and his voice—” She moaned. “When he sings, all I can think about is—”

      “Sleeping with him.” Lauren said.

      “Oh, don’t pretend you haven’t fantasized about Thane.” Ari gave Lauren a look. “Celine’s right. In the past, you wouldn’t consider going to a small club, but you love coming to this place, and we know why.”

      “I never said I wouldn’t mind sleeping with him. I just don’t drool every time I think about it.” Lauren stood and returned Ari’s mock glare with a syrupy smile. “I’ll order us a round of the usual.”

      “What’s the usual?” Celine asked as Lauren headed to the bar.

      “A Jamaican mangotini.” Ari’s light brown face grew even prettier with a smile. “It’s got mango nectar, lime juice…and the bartenders here are very generous with the rum.” She looked at Lauren standing at the bar on the other side of the room and chuckled. “Of course, Blondie will make sure they use top-shelf liquor instead of that house-brand crap. Trust me, you’ll like it.”

      “And if I don’t?”

      “No worries. By the second one you’ll be on board.”

      A laugh made its way past Celine’s lips, but weak from disuse it lost steam and died away. Memories intensified the tug-and-pull between happiness and heartbreak. Maybe the alcohol would help.

      Ari squeezed her arm. The compassion in her gaze brought tears to Celine’s eyes. “It’ll be okay.”

      “Here we go, lovelies.” Lauren set three martinis down without spilling a drop.

      Celine took a sip of her drink. The triple hit of alcohol, tangy sweetness, and coolness washed the tightness from her throat.

      “So…” Lauren peered over her glass. “From the looks on your faces, I’m guessing you’re talking about the whole depression thing?”

      “No,” Ari said, “we’re actually talking about how good it is for her to be out with us again.”

      “Isn’t that the same thing?” Lauren fixed her attention on Celine. “I know it’s hard, but you’re twenty-six, sexy, and single. If you don’t get back out there, you’ll end up like the woman I read about the other day. She’s so lonely she hoards cats and knits sweaters out of fur balls.”

      Ari groaned and her friends exchanged eye rolls and subtle gestures.

      On some level, she appreciated Lauren’s candor. At least she knew where the conversation was headed even if she didn’t want to go there.

      “Trust me. All you need is a hot guy to get you back into the swing of things.” Lauren pointed to the bar. “And the perfect one is standing over there. He’s been checking you out since we walked in the door.”

      Celine took a long sip from her martini glass. Twenty-six, yep—she’d celebrated her birthday last month. Sexy—with Lauren and Ari’s help, she had to admit she looked damn good. Single—not the best word to describe her more complicated status. No, she wasn’t a grieving widow, but after almost a year, she was still a brokenhearted fiancée.

      Relationships weren’t unthinkable, and she’d tried getting back out there a few times, but her hang-ups weren’t the problem. Once she told her story, most guys never made it past the obligatory, “I’m sorry.” The rest elevated her to untouchable sainthood or smothered her with pity. Or worse, they thought she’d sleep with any man who showed up in exchange for drying her tears. She set her drink down. “Not interested.”

      “Talk to him,” Lauren insisted. “We can squeeze in another chair.”

      “I don’t want to talk to him.” She’d let them drag her out of her apartment. What else did they want?

      “Come on. It’s not a date.” Lauren looked toward the bar and smiled. “Besides, he’s cute and—”

      “Damn it, Lauren. I said no.” Moisture welled in Celine’s eyes. Would the tears ever stop? “I’m a grown-ass woman. I don’t need your help.” She bumped her glass, and a splash of mangotini landed on her lap. “Shit.” She rolled the chair back and grabbed the least soggy napkin on the table. As she dabbed at the dress, Celine avoided her friends’ open-mouthed stares and stood. “I’m going to the ladies’ room.”

      “Wait, I have wet wipes.” Ari searched through her purse. “I’ll go with you.”

      “No!”

      Ari recoiled.

      Working up a smile to soften the blow, Celine took the small packet from her friend. “Thanks. I’m okay. I’ll be right back.”

      Refusing to look at the people around them, she left the table and followed the signs down a corridor to the ladies room. Not interested in chitchat or commiseration, she walked past them to the adjoining hallway and leaned back against the wall. As she rubbed away the stain, indignation cooled to regret. Being a bitch to your friends won’t make it better.

      If they only understood.

      The one-year mark of losing Dominic didn’t earn a gold medal at the finish line on the race to normal. Losing the future she’d looked forward to with him haunted her every day. Swells of hurt and loss filled her chest. At times like this, he’d have been her sounding board. After talking to him, she’d always known what to do.

      He’d always told her, Trust your СКАЧАТЬ