Cold Hearted Bachelor

His eyes move from me and land on Colby who’s just ordered a beer from the bar.

“Vaughn, this is Colby,” I introduce them.

Colby shakes his hand, smiling as he says it’s nice to meet him.

Vaughn isn’t as nice back. “Sure,” he grunts out. Then he turns his attention to me. “Really? This guy?”

I scrunch up my nose at him. “What do you mean?”

Vaughn leans in closer to me. “This guy isn’t good enough for you.” The disgust Vaughn has for Colby is written all over his face.

This is so embarrassing.

“Ok then,” Gwen says, grabbing Vaughn’s hand. “Let’s walk over here for a minute.”

“Colby, I’m so sorry.” I turn my attention to Colby as Gwen and Vaughn walk away. It’s almost funny because Gwen hasn’t seen Vaughn since his graduation, but that’s the type of person she is. A take charge type of woman.

“Who is that guy?” Colby asks.

“He’s my older brother’s best friend. I’ve known him for years.” I stare off in the direction Gwen and Vaughn walked off to.

“Ah, does he have a thing for you?” Colby sets his hands on my shoulder to get my attention.

I laugh, more than I mean to. “No, believe me, no. He’s just like an older brother.” I don’t know why I feel the need to get Colby to believe me, or maybe it’s me who needs to hear the truth once more. So, I don’t keep thinking something may be blossoming between Vaughn and me.

“I think it’s more than that.”

I don’t have time to react before Vaughn and Gwen are back over, joining us.

“Listen, I’m sorry for what I said.” Vaughn holds out his hand for Colby to shake.

Colby smiles. “I get it,” then he swings an arm around my shoulders, “I’m pretty protective over her too.”

Vaughn’s lips are paper thin as he tries to smile. “Sure.” He turns away from us and heads toward the bar to get a drink.

I slip out of Colby’s arm, and smile. “Let me just talk to him for a second.”

I feel odd that here Vaughn is getting mad at Colby and I’m not even going to address it. Maybe he does view me as a little sister, and he wants to be certain Colby is on the up and up.

“Hey there,” I say, sliding up onto a stool next to where Vaughn stands at the bar waiting for his drink. “What’s wrong with you?”

Vaughn’s eyes meet mine, zapping a current of electricity between us. “Nothing.” He smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“You know I’m not a child anymore that you need to protect, or whatever it is you think you’re doing.”

“Sure.”

“Will you stop being a jerk?” I scrunch my nose at him.

He turns his back to the bar, resting his elbows along the wood with a smile. “You think I’m being a jerk? What about you? Look at your dress for fuck’s sake.”

I run my hand down my dress in defense. “What’s wrong with my dress?” I nearly screech out. My mind blazes with fury as Vaughn smiles that smile I’m beginning to hate.

He leans closer. “It’s not the kind of dress you wear around friends.”

“Is that so?” I should stomp away, maybe yell at him for being so insensitive.

“Yep.” He lets the ‘p’ pop as the bartender slides him a beer.

“You make me so angry, Vaughn James.”

He laughs. “You wear that dress for him?” He makes no excuses as his eyes roam over my body, up and down, and then back over it again, lingering on my chest which heaves heavily as his eyes assess me.

“Get a good enough look?” I park a hand on my hip.

He takes a swig of his beer and then sets the bottle down. “Turn around,” he breathes out.

I almost turn around and march off, but something about the neediness in his eyes keeps my feet planted firmly on the ground. I do as he says, turning slowly in a circle, my anger building as I try to prove a point.

He hisses under his breath as he tries to grab for his beer bottle but fails miserably. But he can’t peel his eyes away from me to be bothered with the menial task of grabbing his beer.

It makes my heart beat an unsteady rhythm, fighting this pull he has over me. My nipples pebble so hard, they ache. And at this moment, I’m well on my way to once again crushing on the man who would never want me. Sure, he may want me as a woman, because he has an passion for hunting women and then letting them go the moment he gets his fill. Or so my brother says. But this is different. This is us.

I’m not some chick he picks up in a bar.

I’m Spencer’s little sister. I’m the girl he welcomed into his treehouse when he was merely a boy.