Ray
Wade would be here any minute to pick me up, and I didn’t want to start my night with Sir Grumps-A-Lot on the wrong foot.
I had put a little more effort into tonight’s look than I usually would for a night down at the dive bar in town.
A strange energy hung in the air, making tonight feel different from all the other times Wade and I had gone out with friends. I felt as if I were donning armor and heading out onto the battlefield.
After the stunt he had pulled earlier in the week—throwing around hay and sexual frustration—it seemed we were on the losing end of our years-long war of fighting our feelings.
I often felt the heat of his gaze like a brand on my skin when he thought I didn’t notice, his stare like the lick of flames edging across my flesh.
The thing was, I didn’t need to see Wade’s eyes on me to know he was looking. When he walked into a room that I was already in, it was as if someone turned on an electrical current and was coasting the live wire tortuously slow across my skin.
Although I found myself watching him just as often as I sensed him watching me. Time and puberty had been so good to the lanky boy I had fallen in love with at eleven years old. He exuded sex appeal, and I was no stranger to the way that women threw themselves at him.
The difference was that lately I’d started to despise those other women. They could have him untethered, no threat of ruining a decades-long friendship clouding their advances.
Recently, I started to seriously wonder what it would feel like to be the center of his attention and know that he was mine.
We had been there once, at the precipice of falling over the edge of our proverbial cliff. We chose to ignore it, spending years dodging the heated glances, accidental touches, and pressure from our friend group.
I wasn’t sure what had shifted in the last year or so; all I knew was that I wanted to show Wade Daniels that I was more than just his best friend.
I was the woman standing beside him as he burned the world to the ground, handing him the match and gasoline to set things ablaze.
I wanted to fight his demons alongside him and bring back the fire to his haunted eyes. I wanted to be the one he turned to when everything felt heavy and he couldn’t find his way out.
Most importantly, I wanted to be his, in every way I could be, and I wasn’t going to back down from the challenge ahead.
Standing in front of the floor-length mirror on the back of my bedroom door, I fluffed my thick, dark hair and smudged a rogue spot of eyeliner from under my eye.
Hoping to make Wade swoon over me this evening, I went for a more seductive makeup style, different from what I usually wore.
A dramatic smoky eye and winged eyeliner framed my hazel eyes, while the berry lipstick I’d chosen accentuated my full lips.
I felt confident, sexy, and fierce—perfect for the battle I was about to face.
I smoothed my hands over my black dress, the hem barely hitting mid-thigh.
It was shorter than I normally would have worn, but I liked the way it hugged every curve on my body and accentuated my small waist. The back was a lace-up corset, and the thin straps led to a balconette-style bodice that made my boobs look fantastic.
Stella had helped me pick it out when Charlie and I went on our weekly walk down Main Street.
She worked at a local boutique, curating collections of styles to showcase.
The fact that they focused on a mid-twenties to early thirties clientele was perfect for finding a special outfit for a night on the town.
The doorbell rang, and my heart nearly leaped out of my chest. This was it. It was now or never. I looked at myself in the mirror, meeting the reflection of my hazel gaze.
Pushing my shoulders back, I repeated the words my mom had always told me growing up. “Eres fuerte. Eres hermosa. Eres amado. Yo creo en ti.” You are strong. You are beautiful. You are loved. I believe in you.
I missed her more and more each day as I navigated adulthood without her sage words of wisdom. The only solace I took from her passing was the knowledge that I would see her again one day, and it would be the sweetest reunion I could imagine.
Bringing my fingers to my lips, I pressed a soft kiss to the pads and then pressed them to the picture of my mom I had taped on the frame of the mirror.
She would have been so proud of the woman I had turned into in her absence, and she was probably laughing from the great beyond that it took me this long to accept whatever feelings these were for my best friend.
She was always a sucker for a good love story, and she was always convinced that Wade and I were meant to be together. No matter how many times I insisted we were just friends.
“Te amo, Mama,” I crooned softly as I turned to head toward the front door.
I slid my feet into my trusty brown cowboy boots that were nearly buried under a pile of the twins’ discarded shoes. I made a mental note to remind them to bring their shoes up to their room so no one tripped over them trying to get out of the house.
The doorbell rang again, Wade clearly growing impatient on the other side. “I’m coming!” I called, twisting the knob and pulling it open as I attempted to tug my boots on, hopping from one foot to the other.
The moment the door opened, the air crackled with a familiar energy, and my skin tingled as the feeling of an electrical current wafted over my skin, raking its way from my head to my boots.
Wade’s gaze tracked a slow trail down my body, cataloging every inch of skin visible. His eyes held an unrestrained hunger, like a predator sizing up its prey.
I stood in front of him, unashamed and basking in his attention. I liked the way I felt when I had Wade’s undivided attention.
Granted, I had been the sole recipient of most of his attention since we were in our early teens, but this was different. He wasn’t looking at me like I was the loudmouthed girl next door who had declared him her best friend.
He was looking at me with an unrestrained lust that could only be described as unfiltered desire. It was a sensation unlike any other, and I wasn’t ashamed to admit that I wanted more of it.
Snapping out of his haze, Wade cleared his throat awkwardly and ran his hand across the back of his neck, dropping his head and breaking our stare. I swore I saw a hint of blush crest over his cheeks, but it was dark, and I couldn’t be sure.
“You ready?” he asked, refusing to meet my eyes.
Sure, it stung a little that he had felt the same connection I did yet chose to ignore it. But tonight, things were going to change.
I was tired of the same old song and dance, and we were either going to turn it up or cut the music before the night was through.