“Grabbing another beer. Anyone want anything?” I ask, standing up. Since I’m not playing this round, there’s no reason for me to stay seated.
“Yeah, another IPA,” Deke responds, looking stressed as fuck over a five-hundred-dollar pot. Not a shit ton of cash, just enough to make us all not want to lose either.
“Nah, I’m good,” Davis says, not looking up from the cards in his hands as we wait on Deke to figure out what the fuck he’s going to do.
“Beer for me, too,” Joey requests. He’s sitting back in his chair, relaxed, cool as a cucumber, probably because he’s the richest fucker here. We’ve all worked our way to the top somehow. Joey just had a leg up since he was born and bred into the oil industry. His grandad’s dad formed the oil company they own. He’s currently serving as Vice President. That doesn’t mean his family didn’t make him work from the bottom to the top, much like Deke’s did. Davis is like me. We both started our own businesses, wanting to make a name for ourselves and doing just fine, too. I may not be a millionaire; I’m not hurting either.
I walk towards the kitchen. The table is set up off the living room in Deke and Kelsey’s house, an open concept with a shit ton of remodeling they did in order to keep this small patch of private beach for themselves. They went out and up in respects to the house itself, along with some kickass upgrades. I make it there and move to the beverage and wine cooler they integrated into a small bar area off to the side when I hear the talking of two hushed tones, feminine in voice, one that has stuck with me for months on end, the deep rasp, desire-ridden, hungry little mewls I heard through the night.
“Kelsey, calm your tits. You’ve already broken girl code. Don’t think I don’t know what you’ve done.” I smirk to myself as I pop the top of our drinks, being the nosey fuck that I am when it comes to Emily.
“Whatever. Come on, you’re already an hour late. Which means you need to catch up on drinking.” Interesting turn of events, it seems. I figured when Deke mentioned Em would be here, it was more of a heads-up than anything else. Seems like after that small little snippet of conversation, we might both be after the same thing. I grab the beers in both hands, disposing of the caps in their trash can, and head back to the men. There’s no need to let Em or Kels in on the fact that I heard what they were talking about. I figure that will happen sooner or later. I’m just hoping it happens soon, as in tonight.
CHAPTER FIVE
emily
I’m not usually that much of a wine person, preferring beer, but when your sister pours you a glass, you drink it. Kelsey is either trying to get me drunk enough to spend the night or get me bold enough to make a move on Tate. That’s what red wine will do to you, and as much as I love my sister and Deke, there is no way I’m spending the night. Those two are newlyweds. I’m sure they fuck like rabbits all over the house. That’s something a sister does not need to hear or walk into. The way my luck is going, it’ll only solidify just how unlucky I am in the orgasm department since Tate worked his wizardry on me.
“Come on, let’s go out back.” I know the way through her house, of course; I also know that we’ll be walking by the guys, which means this is a make-or-break moment.
“Hold on. I need to drop off the rest of my shit before I make an absolute ass out of myself carrying my phone, keys, water chug, and wine glass,” I tell Kelsey after she poured what seems like a mega pint of red wine for herself and me.
“All this time, and you could have had that done. Take your shoes off, too. That way, all of your stuff is together and you don’t lose something again.” Leave it Kels to call me out on the fact that misplacing things is a common occurrence. My purse is not in my car, by the way. Good thing I keep my license and credit card with my phone. That’s the one thing I haven’t misplaced; everything else seems to be fair game.
“Yes, Mother.” The chide rolls off my tongue like it would back when we were teenagers and Kels was put in charge, which made no sense; we’re barely a year apart.
“Whatever. You know it’ll happen, and you’ve already stated you’re driving home. Though, I’m wondering whose house you’ll be driving to, yours or Tate’s.” Reason five hundred and one why you should never tell Kelsey anything. This is the crap I’ll be hearing all night.