Chapter 14 #3
I can’t help but look back to make sure Wolf is following. His eyes are surveying the room like he’s a bodyguard, not a twenty-two-year-old
at a party, but thankfully, he is trailing us into the kitchen.
“I’m just having one since I’m driving,” I say, accepting the seltzer Hilow hands me.
“Wolf?” he asks, his eyes blinking. “What do the Irish like? Guinness? Whiskey?”
“Nothing for me, thanks,” he replies stiffly. “I start training Monday, so I’ll take it easy tonight.”
Hilow nods and turns all his focus back to me, edging Wolf back behind him a bit. He touches my arm and leans in to whisper
in my ear. “Do you want to see my bedroom?”
My eyes widen, and I feel Wolf’s attention turn from the party to me, clearly hearing this strange request. “No, that’s okay. I’m just going to stand here and have my drink.”
“Okay.” Hilow takes a drink of his beer, looking disappointed for a moment, which is crazy. I know we were together for two
years, but the bedroom thing is a weird ask, considering I haven’t been in the house for more than a minute.
“These are a lot of my vet school friends,” Hilow says, gesturing to the crowd.
I nod and smile. “That’s nice.”
He smiles back. “Vet school students know how to party.”
“I guess.” I sip my drink, hating how awkward this is.
Someone comes in the front door, and Hilow touches me on the arm again. “I need to go greet them. I’ll find you in a few.”
“No rush,” I call back as he makes his way through the crowd to the entryway, where more people I don’t know are standing.
The moment he’s gone, I drop my shoulders and take a fortifying sip of my drink, rubbing the area he touched me. “This is
miserable.”
Wolf huffs out a noise of agreement.
“I don’t think I like meeting new people like this.” I wrinkle my nose and glance over at him. “I prefer more controlled settings.
This just feels too unpredictable.” I survey the room and see everyone having fun, talking, conversing. It looks so easy for
them, but I still feel like an outsider looking in. “I wonder what a matchmaking clinic for friends would look like?”
Wolf shrugs dismissively, and I can’t help but notice all the girls in the room glancing over at him, whispering in packs to each other.
He sticks out like a sore thumb here. Tall, rugged, with dark unkempt hair and simple but sexy clothing that gives the air of “just randomly deciding to show up.” A far cry from the frat boy Patagonia pastel quarter zip that Hilow was rocking.
Definitely more effortless than my look.
Wolf also has this quiet, focused energy about him that just exudes sex. How does he do that?
A blonde walks over and reaches behind me to grab a drink. I have to move out of her way, and when she gets what she’s after,
her eyes move up and down Wolf, who looks back at her with a flat, unimpressed stare. That’s probably his move. Act like you
don’t care, and they will want you more. “Hard to get” is a solid strategy for many. Wish I knew how to master it myself.
“Don’t feel like you have to stick beside me,” I murmur, elbowing Wolf gently as the girl saunters away, swaying her hips.
“What is that supposed to mean?” His brows pull together.
I pull my jacket up tighter around my shoulders so it doesn’t slip off. “I mean . . . if you want to mingle, you should. I’m
sure there’s some ladies here who would love to hear your sexy accent.”
Wolf’s head snaps toward me, and just like that, the air between us tightens as heat crawls up my face.
“What’s that you just said?” he asks, his voice deep and husky, almost intimate-sounding. He turns so he’s fully facing me,
blocking out the noise of the party going on behind him like we’re suddenly in our own little bubble.
I struggle to make eye contact with his probing whiskey eyes, which are currently trying to burrow a hole right through me.
I squeeze my arms over my chest and take another big drink while murmuring, “I didn’t mean—”
“Oh, I expect you did mean.” He licks his lips and eyes me thoughtfully.
“I just mean . . . some people might think it’s sexy.”
“Some people,” he repeats slowly, like he’s taste-testing that answer and not accepting it. His dark lashes dip as he stares at my mouth before lifting his gaze back up to my eyes. “But you’re not one of those people?”
“I don’t . . . I’ve never—” my voice cracks “—thought about your accent,” I reply with a bouncy, careless tone. “Like I’ve
never noticed the musical quality to it.”
“Musical?” His brows pop, his face the picture of delight, a rare look on him. “Tell me more, Stretch.”
“Some people have said that!” I retort, holding my hand up defensively. “Not me people. Like I’m just repeating what others say.”
“Not you.” He leans in close, pressing his hand against the counter next to my ass. I can smell his cologne again. Clean and
earthy with a hint of something dark and spicy. His brows pinch together in a serious furrow that I mirror as he looks down
at me.
“No . . . not me,” I repeat weakly, feeling so utterly small as he half cages me in.
The corner of his mouth tugs up, and so does mine, and before I know it, we’re both laughing, me even buckling over as I realize
what an idiot I sound like. My jacket slips off my shoulders onto the floor, and when we both lean down to reach for it, our
fingers brush, causing a roll of energy to shimmy up my arm.
I jerk back at that bizarre sensation, leaving the jacket for Wolf to grab. He lifts it up and hands it to me, his eyes alive
with humor that is so rare on his face, transforming him from broodingly attractive to drop-dead gorgeous.
I grip the leather tightly in my fingers, my palms sweating at the way he’s looking at me right now.
“Stretch, I think you’re blushing.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
I drape my coat between my crossed arms and scowl at the floor, hating how good he looks with a smirk. Hating how he can probably see the goose bumps all over my bare arms.
The truth is, I love the Irish accent. I chose Trinity College because of my obsession with the book Normal People by Sally Rooney. I bought it in every format, and the audiobook would put me to sleep so many nights when my brain wouldn’t
shut off.
Cliona served as my own real-life Normal People audiobook at Trinity. I’d often fall asleep to her complaining about her rugby team drama. Best sleep of my life was in that
Rubrics dorm room, talking to her in the wee hours of the night.
God, I miss her.
My uncles have done a good job making me feel at home, inviting me over for dinner nearly every night of the week. I have
a hot meal and a laugh at any of their houses any night I want. But going to bed in my cabin all on my own? It’s often when
I want to call Cliona . . . if only to hear her soft lilt.
But that’s what brings me out tonight. I can’t escape in a book fantasy forever. I need real-life friendships. I need to matchmake
myself a best friend. And not whatever this is I’m doing with Wolf. We can’t possibly be flirting, can we? I can’t flirt with
my best friend’s brother. Absolutely not.
“Everly!” a voice squeals from behind Wolf, and I look up to see Claire barreling right toward me.
She shoves past Wolf without a second look as she wraps me in her arms, and I squeeze her lush, full figure back, not realizing
how much I missed my childhood bestie.
“Claire Bear, I’m so happy to see you!” I exclaim, my eyes stinging with emotion overload.
“You can say that again.” She pulls back and hits me with a big smile, her round, freckled cheeks just as adorable as always.
“I can’t believe you’re finally home for good! I want to hear all about your last year at Trinity. Tell me everything.”
Wolf’s warm hand touches me on the side, and he head nods, indicating he’s going to give me some space. It feels intimate and sweet. He walks away with a forlorn expression, my eyes drinking in his backside in those jeans.
“Um . . . who the hell is that?” Claire asks as she ogles his backside as well.
I swallow the knot in my throat. “That is Wolf. He’s working at Trista’s rescue center this summer and living up on the mountain.”
“With you?” she squeals and covers her mouth.
“Not with me exactly, no. He’s in the barn apartment. He’s actually my Irish friend’s brother. He’s playing rugby in Denver.”
“He’s Irish and plays rugby?” she squeals again, and we both giggle like we’re twelve and have a big crush on the new boy
in school.
“Stop, okay? Please be cool.” I swipe my hair back off my face. “He already thinks I’m the uncoolest, and I don’t need to
give him any more ammunition.”
Claire rolls her eyes. “You’re the coolest friend I have.”
I can’t help but smile at that lie she tells so well.
Claire was my first real friend I ever made. It was hard maintaining friendships when I was younger, being shuttled between
my mom and my dad’s house and enrolled in so many friggin’ activities I could barely see straight. It wasn’t until the summer
my dad hired Cozy to be my nanny that she convinced him to let me give up some of my extracurriculars.
And with that free time came Claire. We’d have sleepovers in the guesthouse at my dad’s place when we were ten and eleven.
She was just this perfect piece of easy. I always felt like my social life would have been so much better if we’d gone to
the same school.
Claire had all these self-proclaimed musical nerd friends she was always with, and they all seemed so confident in their own skin. I admire Claire and her curves and have always been jealous of how she never seems to have moments of insecurity. She and her friends just seem so easily themselves.
“Tell me about your life,” I say, giving her arm a squeeze. “How’s school?”
“Oh my God, where do I begin?” she groans and throws her head back. “I just changed my major for the third time . . .”
She downloads all her college drama on me, and while I listen, I can’t help but watch Wolf across the room, talking quietly