Rock Bottom (Dawson Family 6)

“Fuck, it’s so sad.” Hilary lets out a breath. “What about you, Rory? You want to go out with us?”

Dean told me he goes to Getaway a lot, since his brothers own it. I might run into him there, and—no. I’m not letting one person dictate my life. New town, new beginning, remember? I’m not avoiding my favorite ice cream place just because Amber bitch-face McMillan goes there.

I have nothing against Dean…only that I want him against me again. Resist the dark side, Rory…

“Yeah, why not?” I lift one shoulder in a shrug. “As long as we don’t stay out late. I’m on the schedule for tomorrow.”

“Me too.” Hilary wrinkles her nose. “Meet there at eight-thirty and be home by ten?”

I smile. “Yeah. I can handle that.”“Damn girl,” Hilary says when I slide into the booth next to her at Getaway. “Look at you.”

I wave my hand in the air. “I bought this dress like three years ago and have only worn it once.

“Well, it looks great on you. I see you change into scrubs almost every day and didn’t know you had such fantastic boobs.”

“I have my second-favorite pushup bra to thank for that.”

Hilary laughs and takes a drink. “Not your first-favorite?”

That one is still in Dean’s truck. “It’s in the laundry.”

“Babe, you gonna introduce me?” the guy across the table asks, reaching over and taking Hilary’s hand.

“Jeremy, I presume?” I ask.

He smiles. “So you talk about me.”

“I do,” Hilary sets her drink down and takes Jeremy’s other hand. I mentally roll my eyes. Here we go again…

“I hope you say good things.”

“I only have good things to say.”

And now I need a bag to barf in. Turning, I look out at the bar, not looking for Dean, that is. Then I spot one of the bartenders and know right away it’s one of Dean’s brothers. They look alike, and I can tell, even from all the way back here, they have the same pretty blue eyes.

“Are you gonna order any food?” Hilary asks, pulling her hands out of Jeremy’s. Thank goodness. “I’m starving.”

“I ate before I came, but those big soft pretzels they serve here are good.”

“That does sound good. The waitress was just here, and we told her we needed a few minutes to figure out what we wanted to eat. I’ll flag her down.”

“It’s okay, I’ll go up to the bar.” Several barstools have just opened up and I’ll get my drink faster if I go up anyway. “So, two pretzels? Anything else?”

“I’ll take a basket of wings,” Jeremy says.

“Okay. I’ll be right back.”

I hike the purse strap up over my shoulder and walk through the small crowd. It’s a weeknight, still a bit early, but I know enough now to expect this place to fill up fast in the next hour or so.

Taking a seat at the bar, I put in our food order and then get a glass of red Moscato for myself. I take a sip, not wanting to walk with a full glass, and then get up to go back to the table. But as soon as my feet hit the floor, and I turn my body to walk away, I come face to face with someone else.

Dean.Chapter 17DeanFuck. Me.

Rory stands up, and before I realize it’s her, I’m admiring her ass. She’s wearing a dark gray sweater dress today, and it hugs her curves perfectly. Unlike the last time I saw her standing by the bar, she’s wearing leggings and boots with her dress, much more weather-appropriate. Her hair is pulled back in a braid over her shoulder, and I want to wrap it around my hand as I fuck her from behind.

She turns, sea-green eyes widening when she looks at me. She has some sort of fruity drink in her hand, and I know her lips will taste so fucking good right now.

“Fancy seeing you here,” I say with a smirk, looking Rory up and down. Her dress is low-cut again, showing off those big, beautiful tits. The same little half-moon pendant hangs around her neck like a focal point, forcing my eyes to go to her chest.

I blink and get a flash of her tight little body under mine. Fuck, I want her.

“Stalking me?” she quips, cocking one eyebrow.

“I told you I come here often, so I think you’d be the one stalking me.”

“Fair enough.” She takes another drink, and I watch with envy as she presses that glass against her lips.

“Who are you tonight? Natalia from Russia?”

She narrows her eyes, and the instant annoyance on her face makes me want her even more. “No. If I was going to be anyone, I’d be Arwen from Rivendell tonight, stopping at an inn for a rest and some ale before I head back out on my quest.”

“What?”

She lets out a breath. “Never mind. I’m just Rory tonight.”