Cat rolled her eyes and Shane barked out a laugh.
“Seriously, though, if you can’t find a place…” Galen’s expression was sincere. In spite of his razzing, Cat knew—hell, they all knew—he would give his friend the shirt off his back if Shane needed it. They were like family, and family took care of one another.
Guilt pricked at her. Her brother had just won the last fight of his career. A career that Cat wasn’t certain he was truly ready to give up. Surely he deserved to spend a little quality time alone with his fiancée to celebrate?
Lacey cleared her throat, eying her pointedly, and Cat glared back.
All right, all right. “Let’s not get all in a tizz,” Cat said, the world’s fakest smile stretching her lips. “First, let’s see if we can get him a room.” She shot off another unspoken prayer, this one complete with mental gesticulation for good measure, and continued. “If not, I have two queen beds in mine. He can stay with me. No big deal.”
No. Big. Deal.
Except when Shane looked at her, it felt like a big deal. The sound of the jukebox faded away, muffled by the beat of her heart in her ears, and the memory came again, unbidden. The drag of that mouth along her neck. The warm water lapping against her breasts. A full moon, fat in the sky, lighting his face. Clenched jaw, bodies rocking, Shane pulling away, with a whispered no.
“Yes!” Lacey smacked her hand on the table.
Cat jerked back, tearing her gaze from Shane’s to face her friend.
Lacey’s eyes were bright with excitement. “Awesome idea. Now that’s settled, let’s get another drink.” She leaned back with a satisfied smile and raised her hand to flag down the blonde cocktail waitress in a purple bustier. “Shane, beer for you?”
“Sure.” His voice was suspiciously husky and Cat wondered for a crazy instant if the whole mind-reading thing wasn’t so far-fetched, but he seemed to recover quickly, turning his attention to Lacey. “Whatever’s seasonal on tap is good.”
The waitress took the rest of their orders and then made her way to the bar. The others chatted amiably about Shane’s job and updated him on the latest family news and town gossip. Cat took the time to regroup, and when the waitress returned with the drinks, she was back on track. Shane was there. Big frigging deal. Whatever had transpired between them was old news. So why, all these years later, was she still acting like a teenager after a Bieber sighting? It was going to stop, here and now.
She threw back her shoulders, ready to dive into the discussion and behave like her witty, charming self, but she was saved the effort when some fans approached their table asking Galen for an autograph. Once the floodgate was opened, there was no closing it, and over the next hour, dozens of people stopped by for a picture or a high five. Her brother handled it so well and seemed genuinely honored each and every time, which made them love him even more. Invariably, once the female sect realized that Galen was very taken, they turned hot eyes on Shane and asked if he was a fighter, too.
“Nope. Just a regular Joe,” he’d drawl.
The most recent group—this one, all ladies—was clearly out for a good time and didn’t mind Shane’s lack of pro-athlete status. One dark-haired chick separated herself from the pack and boldly dragged a stool up to sit beside him. “More like a G.I. Joe. Where’d you get all those muscles?”
Her skirt was so short that Cat caught a flash of rhinestones that were either appliquéd onto the front of a flesh-colored thong or part of the girl’s attempt at vajazzling. Cat’s professional curiosity required her to investigate further—even if she didn’t design underwear—so she squinted hard, half-tempted to squat down for a proper look. If she eyeballed the girl’s lady parts any harder, she was going to feel obligated to buy her dinner or something.
When she finally looked up, she found Shane staring at her with a bemused smile. She turned away, cheeks hot. So much for playing it cool.
“Well, Joe? You gonna tell me where you got all these fine muscles?” the vajazzler pressed, pouting as she leaned into him.
“Just like to stay fit, is all.”
Cat looked at him hard. Was it her imagination or was he leaning away from those gargantuan breasts? Interesting.
The woman seemed to note that, too, and after a few more halfhearted attempts at flirtation, stood with a defeated sigh. “Well, this bar’s pretty dead. We’re going to find some action. Nice meeting y’all.”
She tottered away on her knockoff Pradas and Cat turned to face Shane. “What’s up with that?”
“What’s up with what?”
“Most guys would have jumped at the opportunity to make some time with her. You have a girlfriend back in Cali or something?”
“Nope. I’m just…selective.” His gaze drifted from her face downward, and Cat’s breath hitched. How could such an innocuous word seem so suggestive coming from those lips? Lips that she would love to—
She froze, slamming the door on that thought, quick. Even if she did think he was sexy in an overly intense and annoying way, and even if he did want to pick up where they’d left off all those years ago—which he surely didn’t—a fling between them would cause nothing but problems in the long run. She didn’t need a protector all up in her business and he didn’t need a…what was it he’d called her that night at the lake? Right. A “spoiled pain in the ass with a death wish” messing up his neat little life, even for a little while.
She’d broken eye contact with him and was about to excuse herself to run her heated mug under the ladies’ room faucet when Galen let out a groan.
“Anybody hungry?” He rubbed his stomach and frowned. “I feel like I haven’t eaten in a week.”
“Lacey and I ordered a couple appetizers while we were waiting for you to shower and ice down,” Cat said.
“Yeah, we’re all set,” Lacey agreed. “I ate my weight in tapas. Want to order something? Kitchen is still open, I think. Want me to get a menu?”
Shane nodded. “I had peanuts on the flight and that’s about it, so I’m starved.”
“I’m hungry for man-food, babe,” Galen said. “I’m not interested in salmon mousse with a bunch of field greens, or tapas. I want to go to Johnny Rockets and get a big, fat burger and some fries.” He rubbed his stomach again, this time with a longing expression.
“It’s the middle of the night,” Lacey said, nose wrinkling. “If I eat that it’ll sit in my stomach like a rock and I won’t be able to sleep. You guys go. Me and Cat will hang here and have another drink before bed.” She looked to Cat for approval.
“Sounds good to me. I don’t want to go traipsing all over town in these heels anyway.” She poked a finger at her kickin’ crimson stilettos and wagged her foot.
Shane slid a glance downward and then met her gaze. “I could give you a piggyback if you want.” His voice was low enough that she had to strain to hear him over the music, and his words sent a pulse of heat through her.
“I’m okay, thanks,” she said, too quickly, before reclaiming her cool. “Me and Lacey will stick here for a bit.”
“Won’t you be lonely without me?” Galen leaned forward and tucked a strand of hair behind Lacey’s ear.
She playfully swatted his hand away. “Nope. Your sister is good company. Besides, I’ll see you in the room a little later.”
“You going to wait up for me?”
The sizzling look between her brother and her best friend made Cat turn away, but not before she saw Lacey’s cheeks flush and her eyes sparkle.
“You guys are so gross, even if I was hungry before, I’m not anymore,” she announced and stood. “Come on, let’s grab the waitress and order another while these boys stuff their faces.”
While Lacey kissed Galen like he was going off to war, Cat made a show of picking some lint off her black pencil skirt, giving it the stank eye. It was a prototype, and after only two wears it was already pilling. She made a mental note to talk to manufacturing about other fabric options before it went to production.
“How about you?” Shane asked softly, derailing her thoughts. He stepped in closer until she had to crane her neck to see his face. “You going to wait up for me?”
Jesus, he was handsome. “Wh-what?” Blerg. Had she really just stammered like that? She was Cat fucking Thomas. Successful designer. Daredevil extraordinaire. A goddamn force to be reckoned with. She was so not going to allow some stick-in-the-mud to get a rise out of her just because he touched her boobies one time almost a decade ago. She cleared her throat and raised a brow at him. “And why, pray tell, would I wait up for you, Decker?”
“Well, Mary Catherine,” he said, the smile in his voice belying his earnest expression, “if I can’t get a room, and you haven’t offered me a key, how else am I supposed to get in?”
Damn. “Right. Of course.” She took an instinctive step back, desperate for some space, and reached for her purse. “You take my key and I’ll get another one at the front desk,” she said. She plucked the card from her bag and held it out to him. “Number 1248, Garden Tower. Make sure you go by the front desk before you eat to see if they have an open room first. And stop calling me Mary Catherine,” she added, not caring that she sounded like a petulant child.
He popped off a salute and gave her a mocking smile. “Will do.” His fingers brushed hers as he reached for the keycard, and she steeled herself. She’d always loved his hands, even in high school, even before he’d ever laid them on her. The hands of a man. Strong and hard, ready to throw a football or pull in an anchor, but equally capable of sliding ever so gently over a hip…
“Thanks,” he said, tugging the key from her death grip before stepping back. “I’ll have Galen text you one way or the other so I don’t startle you.” He turned to follow her brother, who had already started for the door.
Cat watched them walk away, heart pounding, eyes glued to Shane’s ass. The mental strip-down she was giving him wasn’t exclusive to that region, though. Where had those shoulders come from? He’d been in shape when they were young, but this? This was out of control. She blinked and sucked in a deep breath. “I don’t know what the hell is wrong with me,” she muttered, more to herself than anything.
Lacey followed her gaze. “I can help you there. You’re impulsive, realllly short, like almost stumpy, and you’ve got a potty mouth.”
“Thanks. I feel much better now.”
Lacey slid back onto her stool and patted the one next to her that Galen had vacated. “Seriously, though, there’s nothing wrong with you. You’re perfect. But I’m guessing the Shane thing got you freaked?”
Cat hopped onto the seat and shook her head. “No. Yes.” She scrubbed a hand over her face and groaned. “Shit, hell if I know anymore. It’s just so…awkward whenever he’s around.”
“Doesn’t that tell you something?”
“Yeah. It tells me that I should try harder to not be around him. Which I’ve done a really great job of until tonight.”
Lacey just shrugged. “Don’t look at me. I knew your brother invited him, but Shane told us he couldn’t make it. How was I supposed to know he was going to surprise us?”
“You weren’t. It’s not your fault. I’m just not looking forward to playing ‘Dodge Shane’ for a month when we get back home. Not to mention the fifty-fifty shot of having to shack up with him tonight.” She absently traced a circle of condensation on the table with her pinky, willing herself not to think about having to sleep with Shane in the next bed.
“Well, I think it’s great.” Lacey said, and crossed her arms over her chest. “It’s high time you dealt with this. I want us all to be able to hang out while Shane is home, like we used to, and tonight is the perfect time to clear the air with him.”