Chapter Two
Morgan
The bass thrummed through me, a pulsing rhythm that made my body move without thought.
I swung my hips to the beat, arms lifted above my head, hair brushing my shoulders as I danced and sang along with the music.
Around me, my friends formed a loose circle, all of us laughing and dancing and having a great time under the glow of colored lights.
After a busy week at the office, I was letting go of the stress I’d been carrying over the possibility of investors stepping in to take control of the company my father had built from the ground up.
GalvaTech wasn’t just a business, it was my father’s legacy and where I’d worked for years as a marketing director alongside my stepbrother, Parker, who was CTO of the company.
We represented decades of hard work, innovation, and sacrifice.
The thought of handing over even partial control to strangers who cared more about profit margins than the people who built the company into what it was, made my stomach turn.
But I refused to think about that right now. Tonight was about me celebrating my twenty-sixth birthday with friends and forgetting, just for a few hours, that the future of everything I cared about was hanging in the balance.
A man brushed up against me from behind as I danced, and a pair of large hands suddenly landed on my hips.
I stiffened and spun around, my smile evaporating, telling him with my eyes that his advances were unwelcome.
I wasn’t opposed to being picked up in a bar, but I didn’t like how presumptuous he was by getting handsy without even engaging in a flirty conversation first.
He raised his hands, still smiling. “Can’t blame a guy for trying. Have a good night, Birthday Girl.”
I almost asked how he knew, but then I remembered that I was wearing a glittery gold sash that proclaimed me the Birthday Girl.
My best friend, Whitney, had draped it on me when we arrived.
It clashed ridiculously with my short, sexy, body-hugging dress in a shade of green that matched my eyes, but I didn’t care.
I was having a great time and I didn’t mind the attention. It made the night feel special.
“Come on,” Becca, my sister-in-law, said in my ear, tugging me off the dance floor as the song changed. “Let’s do another round of shots.”
I laughed, breathless from dancing. “Just one more,” I said.
We’d been here for a few hours, and I could already feel that perfect edge of a buzz.
The warm, floaty kind that made everything lighter and happier.
Too much more and I’d risk tipping into sloppy-drunk territory, which wasn’t my goal.
There was a fine line between remembering tonight as a good time and regretting my choices in the morning.
The bar was packed, typical for a Saturday, but we had managed to grab a table for all six of us when we arrived, and miraculously, no one had tried to steal it while we were dancing.
We all gathered around the circular table while Becca headed to the bar to get our last round of shots, even though she was the only one that wasn’t drinking alcohol tonight.
At five months pregnant, it wasn’t an option for her, but she didn’t mind.
In fact, she’d opened a tab so that she could pay for all the drinks and the appetizers we shared when we first arrived.
While Becca was at the bar, the rest of us chatted. Whitney sat right next to me, and she leaned in close with a smile on her face, her glossy, curly dark hair falling over one shoulder. “So, are you going to get that guy’s number?”
She nodded in the direction of the dance floor, where the handsy man was still dancing, but his eyes were fixed our way.
I considered her suggestion. He was good looking enough, with short blond hair and a smile that showed off perfectly straight, white teeth.
But I didn’t feel any spark or chemistry when our eyes met.
“I don’t think so,” I said, looking away from him.
“Well, there are plenty of other good-looking guys here tonight,” Whitney pressed, her tone playful but insistent. “And it’s been a while since you dated anyone. Maybe you should try to pick someone up and have a little fun. Seriously, you look hot as hell.”
I laughed, shaking my head. “Thanks, but I’m not going to hook up with someone just to say I did. You know me. I need more than that.”
Whitney rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “Here we go.”
“I’m serious,” I said, leaning closer to be heard over the music.
“I want the real thing. The butterflies. The spark. That pull in your chest that says, this might actually mean something. I’m not interested in sleeping with someone just to fill time or for an orgasm that my battery-operated boyfriend can handle just fine. ”
“God, you’re such a hopeless romantic,” she teased, smiling before taking a drink of her water.
I took no offense to her words. “I always have been. You know that.”
Maybe too much so. I’d paid the price for that once before, falling for someone because I had misread the signals, convinced there was something more emotional between us than just sex, only to end up heartbroken.
But I was still holding out for that special feeling.
The butterflies. A relationship like my parents shared before Mom passed, and one like my father found again with Faith, his second wife.
I couldn’t be mad or upset my father had moved on, not when he was so happy.
Seeing him find that kind of love twice gave me hope that it was possible for me, too.
I could admit though, at least to myself, the situation with James had definitely made me more cautious when it came to men and their motives.
Whitney’s expression softened. “Yeah. But maybe holding out for perfect isn’t doing you any favors.”
I stilled, catching the shift in her tone, along with her reference to the guy I’d dated my senior year in college. “You’re talking about James.”
She hesitated, then nodded. “I just don’t want you to close yourself off because of what happened with him. You haven’t dated anyone seriously since and that was years ago, Morgan.”
I glanced away from my friend’s stare, the memory surfacing despite my best efforts to keep it buried.
James. My college boyfriend, or at least I had thought he was my boyfriend.
We’d spent months together. Late nights studying, long conversations, and the kind of sex that felt like it meant something. I’d fallen for him. Hard.
And then I found out he didn’t feel the same way. I had faced rejection and humiliation all in one fell swoop and not only was I blindsided, but completely devastated too.
“I thought we had something real,” I said, meeting her gaze again. “He told me he wasn’t looking for anything serious, but I didn’t believe him. I thought if I just waited, if I was patient enough, he would change his mind. That he’d realize he loved me, too.” God, I’d been such a fool.
Whitney reached out, squeezing my hand. “I know.”
“But he didn’t.” I forced a smile, even though the old hurt still stung. “He met someone else. Fell for her in, like, two weeks. Suddenly, he was ready for serious. Just not with me.”
“He was an idiot,” Whitney said fiercely.
“And I was just a convenient hook-up.” I’d also spent way too much time wondering why I hadn’t been good enough for him, beyond what I now recognized as regular booty calls.
“Either way, I learned my lesson. I’m not going to chase after someone who doesn’t feel the same way about me.
And I’m not going to settle for less than I deserve just because I’m afraid of getting hurt again.
” But I also wasn’t a serial dater and didn’t want to waste my time with someone I had no chemistry with.
Whitney sighed, resting her chin on her hand. “I get that. I do. I just don’t want to see you close yourself off completely. You have these insanely high standards, and I’m worried you’re going to miss out on someone great because you’re too busy looking for those fireworks right away.”
I considered her words. Whitney had known me since freshman year in high school, and she had a knack for cutting straight to the heart of things in a way only a best friend could.
Maybe she was right. It was hard to admit that I had a bad habit of overthinking when I looked for romantic partners.
I had to wonder if I’d passed up opportunities for a genuine connection because I was too hung up on looking for a man that ticked all my boxes right away.
Maybe I was missing out on what could be something special because I was too wary of trusting a man and his true intentions.
“I’ll think about it,” I finally said, because I didn’t know what else to say.
She smiled, bumping her shoulder against mine. “That’s all I wanted to hear and I don’t mean to give you a hard time. I just want you to be happy. I know you’ve always hoped to find true love, and I want to see that happen for you.”
Something in my chest softened and I smiled back at her. “I appreciate that, and you. Really.”
Just then, Becca returned to the table with a waitress following her, who was holding a tray of Fireball shots and one glass of what looked like a soda for Becca. My sister-in-law looked flustered, her cheeks red and her shoulders slumped. Something was wrong.
“Hey, what’s going on?” I asked Becca as the waitress set the drinks on the table.
Becca bit her bottom lip and pulled me aside so that we were out of earshot of the others. “It’s so embarrassing. My card was declined when I tried to close out the tab. I have no idea why. I need to call Parker. You know he handles all our finances. Maybe something’s up with the account.”
I nodded, trying to reassure her. Parker, my stepbrother, was a computer genius with a knack for numbers. He managed their bills and investments and kept their household running smoothly. If there was an issue, he’d figure it out.