Avoiding Decisions (Avoiding 1.5)

He sipped on his drink, waited on his interview, and watched the VIP section fill up. Geez, where was this guy? It was really bad to show up late to an interview. Even the strippers showed up on time.

Impatient, Ramsey stood from his seat at the bar and made a quick sweep of the perimeter. He wanted to give it his best chance of finding the guy. He had a picture of who he was supposed to interview, but didn’t see anyone yet that looked like him.

What kind of wild goose hunt had Bekah sent him on? This was the last time he was ever doing her a favor again. Okay, probably not, but still…

His drink now empty, he returned to the bar and took over a seat that someone else had just vacated. Setting his empty glass on the bar, he waited for Lacy to pour him another one amidst the chaos, letting his eyes skim the crowd again. As they traveled over one of the couches, he stopped and was glad he was sitting down.

What the hell was Parker doing here?

CHAPTER 3

ONE WAY TICKET

Ramsey couldn’t help himself. He just stared at Parker.

Holy shit, she was beautiful!

His heart was beating wildly in his chest, and it was hard to swallow. Why did she have to be here? He was trying to forget her. Why wouldn’t she just let him forget her?

Tonight was not the night for all of this, and yet he couldn’t push the feelings aside. He wanted her—not just physically either. He had never wanted anyone else more—anyone else at all.

It had been three years since the break up, since their f**k up, and she still managed to grip his heart. She kept him from feeling anything for anyone. How could he? Why would he feel, when she was out there somewhere?

And yet he had never tried to make it right. They couldn’t mend the crack that had shattered their love. It was irreparable. No matter how much he wanted to fix it, to make it better, he couldn’t. They couldn’t.

His heartbreak ate away at him beneath his confident façade.

Parker turned her gaze in his direction, and he quickly diverted his eyes. He didn’t want her to see him. It would be too much. She was dating someone else. She didn’t love him anymore. It was over. It had been for a long time. Seeing her here, now, would just be another reminder of how much he had lost…how much he had given up.

Out of his peripheral vision, he took a closer look. Parker was blatantly staring at him now. He could almost see the clock working inside her brain as she eyed him, registering who he was. Would she come closer? Would she say anything? Or would she avoid him, just like he was avoiding her?

And then he saw it even in the dimness, and his heart contracted. She was not his Parker. She looked a whole hell of a lot like her, but she wasn’t her. No one else could ever be her.

He sagged in his seat, hating himself for the disappointment that settled in his gut.

Oh, God, she was getting up and walking directly toward him. It was now or never. It was his call. If he turned away, she might leave him alone. She might not come after what her walk was suggesting she wanted. But he couldn’t do it. Christ, she looked like Parker. And those hips were coming his way, and he wanted what they were screaming.

She tripped just as she neared him, her heel catching in some unknown crack in the floor, and she yelled out, “Oh!”

His move.

He reached out catching her body, as light as a feather, in his arms. She was tiny, but all toned muscle underneath her scat clothing. It wasn’t something he normally saw in women like this. He always expected them to be soft and pliable not to be fit. He liked fit.

The girl’s hand reached out and rested on his chest. Once she realized that she was safe, she still didn’t move it immediately. He righted her, keeping his hand firmly planted on her slender hips.

Getting a better look at her, he was just as shocked by her resemblance to Parker. Same dark hair, same dark chocolate eyes, same goddamn height! But he had to force himself to see the differences. This girl was much tanner than his Parker, who was alabaster pale in the hottest of summers with soft freckles across the bridge of her nose. This girl was a different build too. Parker had an athletic build from various sports—soccer, mostly. So, her thighs and calves were solid. Whoever this was had a much more lithe figure, less to hold onto. And now that he was looking, her face was slightly different shaped. Parker had a circular face, which her waves covered half the time, but this girl had a heart-shaped face and almond seductive eyes. It worked for her.

“I am so sorry. I just can’t seem to keep my balance in these things,” she purred and he glanced down at her heels.

He slowly dragged his eyes back up her body and into her face. Still all he saw was Parker. Her voice was more musical, but it was easy to ignore the difference. He was about to earn his one-way ticket to hell. At least it was all done with good intentions. Maybe.

“It’s no problem,” he finally said, still holding onto her hips. “Did you twist your ankle or anything? Did you need to sit down?”

She paused, sucking her bottom lip in between her teeth and giving him a doe-eyed expression as if she were contemplating the question. It was damn sexy, and the last fleeting thought of his interview left his mind.

“I’m not sure,” she conceded.

“Here. Take my seat. Do you need ice or something?” he asked, not taking his eyes off of her as she slid past him and occupied his stool. Damn, she was making this easy.

“Oh no, I think if I just sit a minute, I should be fine.”

“At least let me get you a drink,” he said, flashing her an award-winning smile. That always worked. He didn’t even need to use it. She was already pretty drunk and clearly on the prowl. It wouldn’t be wrong if he let her use him as much as he was about to use her, right?

She giggled as if she had been expecting that. She probably had been. Parker always got offered drinks when they had gone out too.

“That’d be great,” she drawled, crossing her hurt leg over the other.

“What’s your guilty pleasure?” he asked, his voice laced with seduction. He was really laying it on thick. “You seem like a Sex on the Beach kind of girl.” She blanched at his words. All right. Guess not. He would change tactics. “Or are you more of a whiskey girl. I hear a Southern accent in there. Did you want a SoCo or a Jack and Coke?”

He waited for her response. He wasn’t sure what nerve he had touched on, but she began to fidget at the suggestions. But he knew a Southern accent when he heard one especially up here. He hoped he hadn’t offended her, because now that he had started, he wanted to see this through.