New Year's Eve

In other words, my complete opposite.

Joe was a protector and a provider. He enjoyed taking care of people. He enjoyed taking care of his women, knowing that they needed him. And nine months ago, to my over-inflated devastation, he’d started dating Nicole. Nicole was thirty-six, divorced, and cute as a button. Petite, dark-haired, gorgeous face and she had this tinkly, feminine laugh that was infectious. She was also a sweetheart. I wanted to hate her and couldn’t. She’d been in a terrible marriage, had a nasty divorce, and openly admitted she was looking for a man who would take care of her since she’d never had that. There was something about Nicole that made you want to scoop her up and protect her. And that seemed to work for Joe in a big way.

When they got past the four-month mark, it surprised Dex.

The sixth month mark and Shaw speculated that there might be a proposal brewing.

The very idea crushed me.

Joe and I got along. We shared a similar sense of humor and an ability to be together without having to fill the silence with conversation. Our time together would almost be wonderfully comfortable if it wasn’t for my feelings. I was so aware of every aspect of his being that I think he must sense something because a tension always crackled between us.

I’d like to imagine it was sexual tension, if it wasn’t for Nicole.

Plus, I was not a petite brunette with a need to be taken care of.

I was a tall red-head. And I was staunchly independent.

Suddenly Joe looked in my direction, and our eyes locked. My breath caught in my throat as my pulse raced. Trying to be casual, I raised my beer bottle in greeting and he flashed me that gorgeous, boyish, wicked smile of his.

I felt that right between my legs.

Dirty girl.

Glancing behind him, looking for Nicole, and thus the reminder that Joe was off limits in more ways than one, I noted she was nowhere in sight.

As if reading my mind, my little sister’s voice drew my attention from Joe. “They broke up,” Shaw whispered.

I turned to look at her, my heart skipping an actual beat. “What?”

Shaw’s expression was impassive. “Yup. Two weeks ago.”

“Who broke it off?”

“Who do you think? Joe did. It devastated Nicole because for her it came out of the blue. Dex tried to ask his dad why, but he said it was his business. Oh shoot, he’s coming over. Pretend we’re talking about something else.”

How could I? My mind was racing. So was my adrenaline. And it shouldn’t be!

Just because Joe was single again, didn’t mean I could do anything about it.

I was still sixteen years his junior. And I was still his son’s wife’s big sister.

This selfish feeling of elation was awful and needed to stop.

“Hey, Ryan.” Joe’s rumbly voice was like a caress of his fingers across the nape of my neck.

I turned toward him with a genuine smile. “Hey. How are you?”

“Good.” His dark eyes studied mine before dropping to my beer bottle. “Want a whiskey?”

Knowing my preference for whiskey—a taste we shared—I thought how sweet and considerate it was that he’d ask. But I was afraid if I started too early on whiskey, I’d get drunk and do something I’d regret. “I’ll take one later.”

“I’m gonna go say hello to Dex’s friends,” Shaw said, reminding me she was there.

Joe blinked as if he hadn’t even seen her and gave her a nod as she beamed at him and hurried around the pool. His eyes caught on Renee, who sat on a lounger with her husband while the twins fooled around in the water. They nodded at each other in greeting, and Renee’s gaze flickered to me for a moment. She frowned and then turned back to her husband to whisper something.

I felt my skin flush, like she had caught me doing something wrong.

Sometimes I wondered if my crush on Joe was obvious to everyone or if I was just being paranoid.

Laughter caught my attention across the other side of the pool and Dex’s friends and Shaw chanted ‘chug, chug, chug’ to Dex as he drank beer straight from the keg. I shook my head in dismay. “I think he’s taking this turning twenty-one thing a little too seriously.”

Joe grunted. “Why is it that smart kids are also the stupidest?”

I laughed, meeting his half-amused, half-annoyed gaze. “I honestly don’t remember being that stupid.”

“It was only three years ago,” Joe teased. “If you were that stupid,” he gestured to his son whose face was turning worryingly red, “You’d remember it.”

“I don’t remember ever being that young.”

His expression softened. “Yeah, I guess not.”

I’d been raising Shaw practically on my own since our parents died when I was fourteen years old. We’d gone to live with my mom’s nice enough but completely self-involved and uninvolved Aunt Rachel.