The temptation was too great and Hunter looked over his shoulder.
Now Isobel was sandwiched between Mack and Liam and their hands— Christ, they were all over her. Mack was chest to chest with her, his knees slung between hers and again, her back was to Liam. They were all dancing so close together, Hunter had no idea how they were managing to stay upright. She was staring into Mack’s eyes, a wide smile on her face as she talked animatedly.
Mack was staring back like he wanted to devour her. Mack’s eyes flicked behind her to Liam and it was as if they were having the same thought.
Hunter’s hands clenched into fists and he was half off his barstool when someone came to stand in front of him. Hunter was about to order them out of the way when he realized it was Sandra, his receptionist.
“Well, it’s just selfish of her to take two of them,” Sandra said, looking toward the dance floor.
“It’s obscene,” Hunter shot back without really thinking it through.
Sandra’s eyes brightened and Hunter immediately wished he could take it back. The gossip mill could be vicious in Hawthorne, like any small town. Another reason for Isobel not to be making such a spectacle of herself.
“So, I was thinking,” Sandra leaned over Hunter to get her drink at the bar. Hunter frowned and tried to angle around her so he could keep an eye on Isobel. Who knew what those two bastards had up their sleeves. He did not like the way they were looking at her.
“We should go out sometime.”
Isobel had flipped around so that now her chest was to Liam’s. His hands were so low on Isobel’s back he was practically grabbing her a—
“Hunter?”
“Huh?” he looked up at Sandra. “Sorry, did you say something?”
She giggled a little and pushed some of her frizzy, over-processed red hair behind her ear. “I said we should go out sometime. Remember how much fun we used to have in high school?”
“Oh.” Shit. Hunter straightened on his barstool. He hated situations like this.
He and Sandra had dated briefly their junior year. Well, if you counted a drunken hook up after Matt Davies’ field party the year they won Homecoming dating. He had taken her out to eat a few times afterwards because he’d felt like a major tool once he’d sobered up the next morning. Maybe there was more to her than the vapid cheerleader she portrayed on the surface? You couldn’t judge a book by its cover, right? He’d certainly hoped to be more than just a dumb jock all his life.
Three dates and too many hours to count later with an earful of gossip about a ton of shit he didn’t care about, he decided that in some cases, the cover was a perfectly accurate representation of what was inside.
And after ten years, other than a bad dye job and skin that advertised she was averse to sunscreen, Hunter didn’t think much about Sandra had changed.
“Look, Sandra,” Hunter began, backing away from her on his barstool, “I’m really not looking to date anyone right n—”
“Everything with Janine was over a year ago,” Sandra said, leaning over so he could get a peek down her plunging neckline, no doubt. “You’ve got to get back up on the horse again.” God, he could barely breathe with all that perfume she was wearing. “And cowboy, I’m happy to help break you back in.”
Beside them, Cal choked on her beer as she audibly bit back a laugh. Sandra glared at her.
You’re too late anyway, he wanted to tell Sandra. Another woman already had that privilege. His eyes skirted past Sandra’s shoulder toward where he’d last seen Isobel dancing, sandwiched between Liam and Mack.
Only to find Isobel staring directly at him. The two guys were still on either side of her but she’d stopped dancing. The smile was totally gone from her face. She looked stricken, in fact. Her ey
es went from Hunter, then to something right beside him.
Hunter turned his head to see what she was looking at.
And ran right smack into Sandra’s lips. She’d stepped in between his legs and was right there, just fuckin’ landing one on him. He got the brief ashy taste of cigarettes before he yanked back, launching backwards off the barstool.
“Christ, Sandra.” He swiped at his mouth. His hand came away with a smear of her red-orange lipstick.
But she was still coming at him, her eyes lowered in what he assumed was her come-hither look. With all that black make-up around her eyes and her orange middriff baring halter top, she just looked like a dead-eyed hooker.
“Oh come on, Hunter. You don’t have to do that coy cat and mouse bullshit with me.” She put a lacquered orange-nailed finger on the center of his chest. She grinned at him. She had lipstick on her teeth. “Take me home and I’ll make sure you get a very happy ending.”
And a venereal disease, he thought.
Sandra tried to dip forward again but he held out a hand and gave a firm shake of his head. “I’m sorry, Sandra. This is never gonna happen between you and me.”