Edge (Gentry Boys #7) (7 page)

All the friends and coworkers had departed at this point and only Gentrys remained. I saw Creed and Truly getting ready to take off with their two kids and thought about going over to say hello but figured that might end up being nothing more than an awkward moment.  

When I felt the hand on my arm I knew who it belonged to even before I turned around.  I faced my brother as he cleared his throat and seemed altogether shy. 

“I haven’t formally asked, Conway,” he said, “but I figured it went without saying that I want you to be my best man.  So will you?” 

He blurted all this out with uncharacteristic rapidity, like he’d been nervous about bringing it up. Somehow that made me sad, that he would second guess asking me. There was never a chance in hell I was going to say no.

“Stonewall,” I said seriously. “I’d be honored.” 

He smiled.  “Yeah?”

I smiled back.  “Yeah. But I may have some explaining to do to Evie because I’m gonna throw you one wild bachelor party.” 

“Thanks, man,” he said solemnly and for the second time in one night I hugged my brother tight. 

ROSLYN

I said I wasn’t in the mood to go out but Emily wouldn’t take no for an answer.

Apparently she’d been texting back and forth with the charismatic Jackson all week.  They’d made plans to meet up at a downtown bar.  Believing I needed a gentle nudge back into the social world, Emily had ideas that she could somehow turn the occasion into a group date.  

Meanwhile, all I wanted after a long but satisfying week of work was to lounge around in my gym shorts, spoon raw cookie dough into my mouth and enjoy a succession of the corny eighties teen movies that I’ve been collecting since I was a teenager. 

In fact I was weighing the merits of
The Breakfast Club
versus
Pretty In Pink
when Emily started tapping her foot and launching a battery of friend guilt. 

“Come on, Roslyn, I barely even know this guy.   You need to be there for backup.”

I picked up
Say Anything.
I’ve always had a thing for John Cusack.
 
“If you think you really need backup then maybe you should reconsider your plans.” 

Emily mulled that over.  “Okay, so my fears may have been somewhat overstated but I still want you to come.” 

“Em,” I sighed, “I can’t tag along as the proverbial third wheel.  I already feel guilty about cutting your night short last weekend.” 

She raised an eyebrow and gave me a sly grin.  “Jackson has friends.” 

“I’m sure he does.” 

“So if one of his friends met one of my friends then everyone has a chance at an enjoyable evening.” 

I glanced down at the movies in my hand.  They were nice, comfortable favorites and I would have a nice, comfortable time watching them before I wandered off to bed to guiltily pleasure myself with my nice, comfortable vibrator. 

Even so, I had to admit there were all kinds of possibilities in the world that I would never run into on my living room couch.  Putting myself out there wasn’t as easy as eating junk food in my underwear and bemoaning the fact that real life doesn’t wrap up as neatly as a Brat Pack film.  But at this point it had been so long since I’ve even glimpsed a happy ending that wasn’t in a book, in a movie or battery operated, that I was willing to consider alternatives.

“You’re thinking about it!” Emily marveled.  “I can tell.”  

I was.  After a year of living in quiet celibacy, it turned out I still had hormones after all. 

The movies got tossed to the sofa.  “Give me twenty minutes,” I said and then bolted to my bedroom before I could talk myself out of it. 

Unfortunately I’d been shirking my laundry duties lately so there wasn’t much to choose from.  Plus about six months ago in a fit of irritation I’d donated a pile of my more glamorous clothes to Goodwill.  Emily would have happily parted with anything from her closet but she was so petite I figured it would be a waste of time to even look. 

In the end I said “The hell with it,” out loud and chose a pair of decent denim shorts with a loose-fitting blue and white sleeveless top, taking a few extra minutes to curl my long, auburn hair.  When I paused at the mirror I figured I wouldn’t win any fashion awards but it was good enough to go for drinks. 

We were returning to the same neighborhood we’d been to last week for the party.  Emily texted busily while giving me instructions to park in the same garage because our destination - a bar on the ground floor of an insurance building - was right across the street. 

As I pulled the car into the identical spot I’d chosen a week earlier I couldn’t help but think of Conway Gentry.  He’d been on my mind a lot this week.  Too much.  It wasn’t that I wanted to see him again.  There’d been something altogether disturbing about our last interaction.  But every time I remembered the brief, seductive touch of his hand I got the chills.

I pushed him out of my head. There was not a single good reason to get caught up in thoughts of Conway right now.  Phoenix was full of people.  What were the odds of having a second chance encounter with a guy I hadn’t managed to run into even once in the last six years?  

Emily was hanging on my arm as we walked down the quiet city street.  “Just want to let you know I’m still all about the girl code.” 

“The what?”

“The code of honor among gal pals that explicitly states thou shalt not ditch a friend for dick.  I wouldn’t do that to you.”

I knew she was being serious so I tried not to laugh.  “You worry about me too much, Em.”

“I’m not worried.  But we should have a secret signal, like clap your hands six times or something and I’ll get the hint that you want to take off.”

“That sounds very subtle.” 

“Well, think of something else then.  That way if Jackson’s friend turns out to be a douchebag you don’t have to suffer for my sake.”   

I stopped walking.  “Wait, Jackson’s actually bringing a friend? For me?”

Her eyebrows furrowed.  “I told you that.” 

“I thought it was hypothetical.  Never mind.  It’s fine.  I can be fairly talkative when I have enough of a reason. I’m sure The Friend and I will be able to find common ground somehow.” 

Hogan’s was your ordinary everyday bar with drinks, dim lighting and country music.  The entrance was actually all the way around the back of the building and it seemed like it was once a storage area.  It had that closed off warehouse feeling but the place was busy and everyone in the crowd seemed to be minding their own business.

“Do you see him?” I asked Emily. 

She craned her neck.  “No.”

“Text him.”

“In a minute.  I don’t want to seem too eager.”   

We couldn’t really hang out in the doorway blocking the entrance so I pulled Emily off to the left.  When I saw the eager look on her face as she examined every man in sight I realized she must really like this Jackson guy.   I sent a silent prayer to the gods of Planet Romance that he wasn’t the kind of callous asshole who would make plans and then blow a girl off. 

Jackson must have been right behind us the whole time because suddenly he had an arm around Emily’s waist.  She let out an adolescent squeal before flinging her arms around his neck with such gusto you would have thought they were newlyweds.

Jackson still had his arm around my roommate’s waist when he turned to me.

Emily gestured with a giggle.  “You remember Roslyn.” 

“Hello, Roslyn.” 

“Hello, Jackson.” 

He started to lead Emily away with a jerk of his head.  “We’re back here.” 

Beyond the noise of the bar there was a little alcove, easy to miss at first glance. The space only had room for two tables.  One was occupied by a pair of middle-aged couples who were busily sucking back every pint of beer they could get their hands on. 

There was only one person at the other table. 

What are the odds? 

I’d asked myself that question only moments earlier. 

What were the odds that in a city full of people I’d run into the same man for the second time in two weeks? 

A man I hadn’t seen in years. 

A man who had managed to both repulse and fascinate me in the span of our last ten minute conversation. 

A man who looked briefly shocked by the sight of me before he composed himself, curled his lip in a sexy sneer and casually downed a shot, choosing to say nothing as he waited for his friend’s introduction. 

“Con, meet Emily,” Jackson said, squeezing her shoulder, maybe so his friend would know who he was staking a claim on.  “And this is her roommate, Roslyn.” 

Conway carefully placed his shot glass upside down on the table and looked me over with an amused grin.  “I think we’ve met somewhere, Roslyn.” 

I met his gaze without flinching.  If he could play this cool then so could I. 

“Have we?  I can’t say I remember you,” I said calmly and took a seat.

Emily was all smiles as Jackson pulled a chair out for her. She nudged me under the table and I knew it was because she was pleased.  She was figuring I’d sat down so quickly because I was panting over the sight of Conway.  Objectively I had to admit he was definitely something worth looking at. He was all muscle and smoldering alpha appeal.  Of course, Emily didn’t know what I knew.  Jackson had only introduced him as ‘Con’ and since I’d never mentioned anything to her about running into him at last week’s party, she wouldn’t connect the dots that Jackson’s buddy was the infamous Conway Gentry. 

I did notice that Jackson was eyeing his friend.  In the silent language between pals, Conway must have let him know that all was well because Jackson relaxed and called a waitress over, ordering a round of beers for the table. 

As soon as the waitress walked away, Jackson said, “Hell, where’d my manners go?  Forgot to even ask you ladies what your poison is.” 

“It’s okay.  I happen to love beer,” I said, watching Conway as he watched me.  I couldn’t tell what sort of thoughts crystalized behind those blue eyes.  I wasn’t sure I wanted to. 

Emily shot me a quizzical look.  She knew very well that I wasn’t a beer drinker.  In fact aside from a sip of wine now and then I barely drank at all.  The belchy taste and strong smell of beer didn’t tempt me much. 

“I would have guessed you as a champagne and caviar kind of girl,
Roslyn
,” said Conway and I tensed over the tone of his voice.  He was mocking me. 

“Stick around and maybe you’ll get lucky enough to find out what kind of girl I really am,
Con
,” I shot back, even as I wondered where the false bravado had come from.   

Conway’s eyebrows went skyward.  I’d surprised him.  

Good, I thought with satisfaction.  I’d be damned if I’d let him think he could fit me into the neat little box of his choosing.  Not that I had any intention of letting him get anywhere, but neither was I going to storm off like the uptight brat he seemed to take me for. 

I could do this.  I could sit across from Conway Gentry and drink beer and coolly banter back at him every time he dished it out.  I could do it for Emily, who had decided I must be fine after all.  I was glad to see how she and Jackson sat close together and by the time the waitress brought our round over the two of them seemed to be having a West Side Story type of moment where everyone else disappeared and the world contained just the two of them.   

Something brushed my knee underneath the table.  It startled me so bad I yelped and jumped out of my seat, knocked into the table and spilled two of the beer glasses. 

“Shit,” I swore, grabbing for the farthest glass a second too late. A tidal wave splashed right into Conway’s lap.  He probably could have gotten out of the way but he just stayed put and watched the beer flood toward him.  He didn’t even shift his stupid chair to the side. 

“S-sorry,” I stammered and started looking around for something to use for cleanup.  I remembered I had a pack of tissues in my purse and I started digging around for them. 

“Relax,” he said mildly as he righted the glass and snapped his fingers at a waitress.  For some weird reason he still hadn’t moved an inch.  Maybe he liked the feel of beer puddled in his crotch.   

I found the pack of tissues but one waitress was already mopping off the table while another waitress presented Conway with a stack of bar towels.  The two of them fussed and flirted and pushed their D-cup endowments right in front of his face.  I shoved my tissues back in my purse, darkly wondering if those overeager girls would end up brawling for the right to sponge Conway off with their tongues. 

Jackson and Emily briefly emerged from their canoodling to notice that something was amiss.  Jackson laughed.  “You jacked up already, man?  Might be a record for you.” 

“Nah,” Conway said as he shooed the zealous waitresses away and half-heartedly soaked up the beer with bar towels.  I didn’t know why he bothered at this point.  His jeans were plainly drenched.  He grinned at his friend.  “You know I’m a clumsy fucker.” 

“It was my fault,” I admitted.  “I jumped.” 

“You what?” Emily asked. 

“I jumped.”

“Oh.  Why?”

“Something touched me.” 

“
What
touched you?”

“Nothing.  I don’t know.  Maybe it was my imagination.” 

I knew damn well it wasn’t.  It had felt like fingers reaching out to stroke my left knee.  Fingers tended to be attached to someone. 

Since Jackson was all the way on the other side of the table and plainly occupied, there could only be one culprit. 

He was now folding wet towels with a studied air of innocence. 

Meanwhile, Emily was looking at me funny.  “Did something touch you or not?” 

“Never mind,” I said.  “It was probably just my purse strap.” 

“Your purse is hanging on your chair,” Jackson pointed out. 

“Maybe it was snake,” Conway suggested. 

All at once Emily was in a panic.  “A snake!” she squeaked.  “In here?”  She shifted even closer to Jackson so he could protect her from imaginary reptiles that frequented downtown city bars.