8

There was a pause, then Tessa exhaled and lifted her shot glass again. “Fine, Liv,” she said loudly. “I agree. We'll drop it for now, but only because you definitely need to loosen up and have some bloody fun.”

And just as she said it —

A male voice cut smoothly into their space. “I can definitely help her with that...”

All three of them turned.

He stood beside the booth like he’d been summoned by the word fun itself. Tall. Broad shoulders under a dark button-down rolled at the sleeves. A drink in one hand. The other casually tucked into his pocket. His jaw sharp under the low amber lighting.

And that smile. Lazy. Confident. Slightly wicked. But it was his eyes that mattered. They weren’t on Tessa, or on Isabella. They were glued on Olivia. Steady. Assessing, and definitely Interested.

Derek Hawthorne.

__________

For a split second, the noise of the bar dimmed.

It didn’t actually fade — the bass still thudded, glasses still clinked, laughter still burst from nearby tables — but inside Olivia’s head, everything narrowed to one point.

Him.

Her pulse kicked hard against her ribs, sudden and violent — whether from alcohol or the shock of seeing him, she couldn’t tell. What the hell was he doing here, she thought, as every other thought flew right out of her head. And worse — why did her body react like this?

Oh… This was not good. Not when she was already two shots in. Not when her emotions were hanging by a thread. Not when she’d come here specifically to forget complications, not invite new ones.

She heard Tessa mutter under her breath, “Oh, this should be illegal.” as she stared at Derek and couldn't even blame her friend.

Derek Hawthorne stood there like he belonged in the dim amber lighting. Effortlessly put together. Effortlessly dangerous. The man was too damn attractive for his own good or anyone else's for that matter.

“How’s the evening going, ladies?” Derek asked smoothly. His voice was rich, controlled and entirely too confident. He finally dragged his gaze away from Olivia to address the table, and only then did she realize she’d been holding her breath. “Having fun?”

Isabella blinked at him. “You said you’d leave us alone, Derek.” There was a slight frown on her face, but no real heat behind it. More sibling irritation than genuine annoyance.

Derek placed a hand over his chest dramatically. “Oh, come on, Izzy.” He even pouted — actually pouted — in a way that would’ve been ridiculous on any other man. On him, it was annoyingly charming. “It’s boring being alone here. I have no friends in this town. Everyone’s gone now.”

“Then make new ones,” his sister shot back smoothly. “Or find some woman to pick up. You’re very good at that.”

Olivia didn’t miss the pointed tone. Derek ignored it completely, and once again, his eyes slid back to her.

“So…” he drawled, tilting his head slightly. “She’s finally here.”

Her stomach flipped. He had known she was coming? She raised a brow at Isabella.

Isabella sighed. “He said he wanted to go out too. I told him he could come — as long as he stayed away from us, so I don't know why he's back here.”

Derek gave an innocent shrug.

“Oh relax,” Tessa chimed in, grinning. “His company is not all that bad.”

“Thank you, Tessa,” Derek declared grandly. Before anyone could stop him, he leaned over, gently took Tessa’s hand in his, and pressed a theatrical kiss to the back of it.

Tessa gasped dramatically, cheeks flushing bright pink. “Stop it.”

Olivia nearly rolled her eyes. Isabella didn’t nearly. She fully did, and almost sent her eyeballs to the back of her head.

“Save your charms for your bimbos and twinkies, Derek.” She told her brother.

He chuckled, low and unbothered, then moved. Olivia tracked him from the corner of her eye. And then her stomach dropped. He wasn’t stepping away. He was stepping toward her.

Her body reacted before her brain did. Her spine straightened, her pulse spiked again, and for half a second she genuinely considered standing up and fleeing to the restroom like a coward.

Too late.

He reached the edge of the booth. And sat beside her. Close. Not touching, but close enough that the heat of him felt deliberate. Her nostrils flared slightly. He smelled… incredible. Something deep and warm. Spiced. Clean. Masculine without being overpowering. The kind of scent that lingered on pillows and in thoughts. She instinctively held her breath. It didn’t help. Because he leaned closer.

“Hello again,” he said, lifting his glass to his lips. The corner of his mouth tilted upward in a slow, knowing smile. Then he leaned just enough that his words were meant for her alone. “Happy to see me?”

Her throat felt suddenly dry. “Hello, Derek,” Olivia managed, forcing her voice into something resembling calm.

She was not in the right mental state for this. Not tonight. Not when Jack was already a storm in her head. But the way Derek looked at her — like he was studying her, not just seeing her — made something inside her unravel.

“Izzy and Tessa mentioned they were doing some kind of… intervention,” he continued lightly. “Are they done? Because I’d like to join in and point out a few things I've observed myself.”

Her head snapped toward him. “It’s none of your business,” she replied, aiming for sharp, but it came out softer than she intended. Damn tequila.

Tessa straightened slightly. “Actually—”

“Tess,” Olivia warned, shooting her a look.

Tessa immediately lifted both hands in surrender, though her grin suggested she absolutely would’ve betrayed her.

Derek laughed. It wasn’t mocking. It was amused. “Fine,” he said easily. “I won’t push.”

But he didn’t move away. His arm brushed lightly against hers, barely there, but enough to send awareness crackling across her skin.

Again, that scent. That warmth. Her body felt suddenly hyper-aware of everything — the line of his thigh near hers, the subtle flex of his forearm as he adjusted his glass, the way his presence filled the small space without effort.

He was too strong to resist, too solid to ignore or pretend he didn't affect her.

Her mind whispered Jack.

Her body didn’t listen.

Screw it, she thought.

If she was going to sit here next to Mr. Ruggedly-Too-Attractive while her relationship hung by a fraying thread, she needed insulation. Numbing. Distance.

Right on cue, the waiter returned with another round of shots. The glasses landed on the table with a soft clink.

Olivia didn’t hesitate. She reached for one immediately, fingers wrapping around cool glass and lifted it before anyone could say a word.

If this night was going to spiral…She might as well meet it halfway.