“She didn’t used to be like that,” I protest quickly. “She was a cool kid. Into fashion design, and ponies.”

“Yeah, well that’s not the kind of riding she does anymore.” Lacey snorts. Over by the water, Brit is yelling at the long-haired guy while the blonde smartly slips away.

I turn back, still confused by Brit’s venom, but glad a public showdown has been avoided. “Thanks,” I tell Lacey. “For stepping in back there.”

“I’ve always got your back.” Lacey promises. “And now it’s your turn to return the favor—as my wing-woman.” She nods over to the bar area, where a cluster of cute guys are waiting in line.

I laugh, relieved. This at least I’ve got practice in. “Lead the way, lady.”

We fill our plates with food, and then head on over to the bar. Lacey works her usual magic, fluttering her eyelashes and pressing in close, and like magic, a space opens up for us in the packed scrum.

“You didn’t tell me this town was so full of cute,” Lacey drawls, checking out the scene. “But I guess you were otherwise occupied.”

“Uh huh,” I murmur, distracted. I anxiously sweep the crowd, looking for Emerson’s familiar powerful build.

“Earth to Juliet!” Lacey snaps her fingers. I turn back. “Come on,” she demands, “help me get the bartender’s attention, this place is swamped.”

I obediently try to find the guy in charge of the mayhem.

Then I feel it.

Something makes my skin prickle, and suddenly, I feel a wash of nervous exhilaration flood through my system.

Emerson.

I don’t even turn right away, but I know he’s here, somewhere. I can’t explain it, but it’s like my body has a special radar, just for him. I would know him in a hurricane, in a snow-storm, if I was deaf and blind. My body knows him by heart.

Slowly, I turn around.

There he is, over on the other side of the makeshift dance-floor. He’s staring at me with a dark, unreadable expression, wearing black jeans, and a faded grey T-shirt that hugs every muscle and sinew of his tanned torso. There’s a girl beside him, some stacked brunette with a tiny sundress on, chatting away, but his eyes don’t leave mine.

The world shrinks again, to just the look in his eyes, and the sound of my heartbeat.

I stifle a whimper, caught in his gaze.

“Boom, victory.” Lacey lines up a row of tequila shots. She hasn’t noticed me staring across the crowd, too busy setting out the lime and salt. “Babe? Seriously, get in the game already.”

I drag my eyes away from him, and grab the first shot glass. I down it in one, gagging at the sharp bitterness, then grab a wedge of lime to suck on.

“That’s my girl!” Lacey cheers. “What should we cheer to?”

I look back for Emerson, but he’s nowhere to be seen.

“The future.” I say, turning my back reaching for the next shot.

“Fuck yeah!” Lacey whoops. “The future!”

CHAPTER FIVE

Night falls, and the party kicks up a notch. A country rock-style band sets up by the bar, and soon the open space is packed, a makeshift dance-floor under lanterns and the lights from the buildings nearby. Lacey gets into the party spirit: chatting, flirting, dancing with the steady stream of guys who always seem to buzz about her. There’s something about her energy, infectious and playful, that always attracts a crowd. Whether she cares enough to keep any of them around for long… Well, that’s another thing.

I play along too: downing shots, smiling on cue to Lacey’s funny stories, and even dancing along on the edge of the group, trying to lose myself in the rhythm and laughter. But I only half-way relax. No matter what I do, I can’t stop myself from checking on Emerson, glancing to see if he’s around. There’s no sign of him anywhere, but I know he’s here somewhere, he has to be.

I feel it.

And who the hell was that girl I saw him with? I feel a stab of jealousy, even though I know it’s ridiculous. She was cute, but why wouldn’t she be? I’m surprised girls aren’t lining up to try it on with Emerson, and hell, maybe they are. Maybe there’s been a parade of them since I left, one after the other, after the other…

I gulp down the rest of my drink – some fruity punch cocktail thing this time – and try not to think about it. He can date whoever he wants. I have Daniel. It doesn’t mean a thing to me.

“Perfect timing!” Lacey announces.

I look up. She’s back from the bar with another round of drinks. I grimace,

“I think I’m done,” I tell her, waving away the fresh cup. My head is spinning now, and the lights are starting to blur in front of my tired eyes.

“Lightweight,” Lacey teases. “Oh well, more for me! Hey, Garrett!” she calls, waving someone over.

I turn. It’s the blonde bartender from Jimmy’s Tavern, grinning in a stubbly beard and plaid shirt. He’s balancing a plate full of funnel cake like a pro, weaving through the crowd.

“I said how hungry I was, and he offered to get something. Isn’t that sweet?” Lacey coos.

“You’re a piece of work, Lacey Sullivan,” I laugh.

“Cute, huh?” Lacey whispers to me, as he approaches. “You’re good if I crash somewhere else tonight?”

“Sure,” I laugh. “One of us should get some.”

And it definitely won’t be me.