Crazy in Love

Once we exit the car, she moves closer to my side as we walk down the alley toward the private entrance. It’s not far, but I like her company. After we step inside, she stays close to me. Maybe it’s because she appears to dislike the unwanted leers she’s receiving. This is not the woman I’ve heard stories about from Nick. He said Tatum and Nat used to dance on bars and were the queens of the spotlight, owning the attention of every person in the place. Tonight, she doesn’t seem to crave that life.

“I’m happy to be your wingman,” I say.

She giggles. “I don’t need help getting a date—”

“What? No, I meant bodyguard, not wingman.” What the fuck? Helping her get a date with some other asshole is the last thing I plan to do.

Wrapping her arm around mine, she tugs me toward the velvet ropes. A bouncer gives us a nod and steps aside, allowing us entrance to the section. “Does my body need guarding, Decker?”

Abso-fucking-lutely. “I’m up for the job if you’re offering.”

“I know firsthand you’re up for it.”

I’ve been drinking.

She’s been drinking.

“There’s that trouble with a capital T that I remember so well,” I say, giving her a once-over. I cared earlier, careful to watch her when she wasn’t looking. That care is gone, and I’ll give it right back to her. Her hair is lighter than it was in Catalina, but it’s still long, if not longer. The loose waves are so fucking sexy. It’s as if she just rolled out of bed after a night of sex. I know how the night’s going to go down. Every guy is going to be eyeing her, talking to her, and one of those fuckers might win the lottery and get to take her home.

Fuck. What am I doing? Why am I setting myself up for this kind of torture?

That short skirt, a shirt that highlights her assets, and those long legs I remember being wrapped around me. She takes hold of my shirtsleeve like we’re a couple walking into the VIP section.

Despite the band coming in behind us, you’d think Tatum was the rock star since all eyes are on her. We find a seat on a couch against the wall while the guys who came out tonight settle around a low table. I greet Kaz, then introduce Tatum. Most women are starstruck when they meet my famous friends. Hell, most men are as well. Except Tatum.

The band might be put on pedestals by everyone else, but Tatum’s poised and confident not only in her own skin but also in the sky-high heels she’s been wearing all night. I don’t know near enough as I’d like about her, but maybe her world includes megastars and musicians.

The band’s manager, Tommy, makes sure the table is loaded with bottles of options. Derrick and Kaz pour drinks like they didn’t just sweat for over two hours on a stage.

Even they take notice of Tatum and that short, even shorter when she sits, skirt of hers. They’re all married, but if they weren’t, I might be worried they’d find her more interesting than she finds me.

I have no right to feel possessive or even jealous, but some feelings I’ve ignored up to this point have unexpectedly resurfaced, causing my gut to twist and my head to spin when it comes to her. I’m not one to get hung up on a woman. I wholeheartedly admit I only made one phone call that I don’t even think she’s aware of. I made decisions, and now I have to live with the consequences. I chose my family and work back then, and I’m regretting that now.

Not that I’m in love with the woman, but sitting next to her makes me realize there was a time we had a real chance at what Nick and Natalie have. My chest tightens, thinking of that time after Catalina and what happened. I can’t change that, but maybe if Tatum knew . . .

She’s been holding on to that grudge like a life preserver. Even when I tried to make it right at Nick and Natalie’s wedding reception. No move I made or thing I said was going to change her mind. Too little. Too late.

I tried to tell her the truth. My timing might have sucked, but it wasn’t because I hadn’t been thinking of her. Sometimes life is shit and gets in the way. If I could change what happened, I would—for her, for me, but most of all, for my sister.

She’s let me back in tonight, but what will tomorrow bring?

I have my reasons, but what are hers—the real ones. I’m fucking confused and ready to put this to bed, so I ask, “What happened between us?”

4

Tatum

I’m two cocktails past the point of getting defensive or even bothering to protect my heart or other body parts that Harrison Decker has the innate ability to arouse.