Bad Cruz

No judgment here, but there was no way I would participate in that kind of thing with this nipple-wielding power couple.

I decided to go for the same wine Jocelyn sipped, while the men stuck to whiskey. It occurred to me that I should probably stop drinking, but this was my first real experience with alcohol. Pathetic, considering I was near thirty, but also true. And this was the trip of new experiences, apparently.

“Where are you working these days?” Cruz asked Dalton, obviously trying to steer the conversation into safer territory.

“I’m a plastic surgeon in Greenville. At the Green View Plastic and Reconstructive Surgery Clinic.”

That could explain why his wife had enough plastic to mold an industrial trash can.

“Nice. That’s what you’ve been gunning for.”

“How ’bout you? Heard you ended up taking your old man’s job after all?” Dalton scooped an ice cube from his whiskey tumbler into his mouth, crushing it with his teeth. “Thought you had second thoughts about that?”

Cruz stiffened next to me. The good-natured smile still played on his lips, but I could tell something had shifted inside him.

“I was on the fence for half a minute. Ultimately, though, I like it in Fairhope.”

Dalton took a swig of his whiskey. “The Gambler” by Kenny Rogers was playing in the background.

“Thought you said it gave you too many dark memories.”

I couldn’t help but snort out an unladylike giggle.

“Dark memories?” I echoed. “Cruz was, and always will be, Fairhope’s guiding light. I think his only unpleasant memory is being born, and that’s only because that’s the moment people began to fawn over him twenty-four seven and he got tired of being admired.”

Dalton turned his gaze toward me, seeing this as a direct invitation to answer my breasts.

“That’s what I heard, too. But he said something about an ex and some stuff going wrong. Last I talked to our boy here, he said he was looking for apprenticeships in Charlottesville. That was before we graduated.”

“Ex?” I whipped my head toward Cruz, frowning. “What ex?”

Cruz had fooled around with a few popular girls in high school, but he was too bright, too untouchable to settle down with one of them. And besides, people in our school had this small-town mentality that ensured almost zero drama where breakups were involved—the dating pool was too small for you to feel weird about dating a friend’s ex…or an ex’s friend…

In fact, I was pretty sure mine and Rob’s was the only messy story from Fairhope High during his graduation year.

Also, on a side note—why was everyone blurry? And how come my legs felt like they were too heavy to move, but also kind of warm and nice? Was this how being hammered felt like? No wonder alcoholics were grumpy people.

And also did this a lot. I laughed once.

Cruz kicked my ankle under the table, signaling me to shut up.

“You don’t know my whole life story, Turner.”

“I know you didn’t have a messy girlfriend back home or dark memories,” I countered, peppering my statement with a hiccup.

Dalton and Jocelyn looked between us, grinning.

“Who wants some shots?” Jocelyn purred.

“Not me,” I was about to say, when Cruz bit out, “Great idea.”

Oh boy.

He was going to be so pissed when I ended up puking on his friend’s wife’s pointy nipples.

A round of tequila arrived, and we all emptied the content of our glasses. Dalton and Cruz switched to beer and started talking about football while Jocelyn ordered “us girls” some bubbly.

“So.” Jocelyn gave me a slow once-over. “What’d you get done?”