him. Just sitting on the couch in her pajamas, her sand-colored hair tossed over her shoulder in a braid, she was cute, and when she put some effort into it she could be stunning.
Like, truly stunning. Staring at her now, he felt his vision shift. He let himself look at her the way he so rarely allowed himself to and wondered, not for the first time, why they hadn’t ever…
“Never mind.” She snapped him out of his reverie. Waved one of her hands dismissively and looked away toward the window. “Even if I did have a fan club, at least I have some standards. Unlike some people I could name.”
That was a sucker-punch. “I have—”
“I just haven’t met anyone who’s caught my eye or who…” she paused, hesitating before continuing, “…measures up.”
He tilted his head. There was a wistfulness to her voice that was new. “To?”
The silence hung just a second too long before she turned to look at him and sighed. She swatted at his leg and stood. “To what I want.” Gesturing toward his beer, she asked, “You want another?”
“Sure.” He drained what was left of his old one as he watched her walk away. Shapeless as they were, those pajama pants clung in all kinds of interesting ways, and those hours she spent coaching the girls’ basketball team at her school were paying off. And then when she leaned over to grab the bottles from the bottom of the fridge…
He nearly choked, jerking his gaze from her ass as she turned back toward him. God, this was why he never let himself look at her this way. They were friends, he reminded himself. Best friends. And she wasn’t even his type.
Then again, if she was right, “his type” was half the problem.
She held a beer out to him, and he grabbed it from her without a word. She’d already popped the top, so he took a deep swig, swallowing hard against the coiling tension in the room. Tension. That, too, was new.
The liquid poured down his throat, cold and good. It helped him focus. He’d had a plan tonight.
He looked up at her and forced a grin. She had a beer of her own, and at his nod of thanks, she held it out to clink against his. Plunked back down on her spot on the other couch.
“Anyway,” he said. “We’ve both had a shitty year in the romance department. So I propose we make some resolutions. Together.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “I’m listening.”
“You’re going to find your elusive someone. And I’m going to find a girl who’s not…what was it? A gold-digging bitch?”
“I never said that.”
No, not precisely. “I thought the b-word was implied.” At her noncommittal silence, he smirked and slapped his palm against his thigh. “Regardless, we’re never going to meet Mr. and Mrs. Right sitting around your living room.”
“So what do you have in mind?”
“I don’t know! We go out! Do things. Separately, even.”
A flash of something like panic crossed her face, but before he could really process it, her features were settling back down, her posture stiffening.
He cut off her inevitable protest. “Come on, Cassie. You know we make terrible wingmen for each other. Everybody always assumes we’re together.” He reached over and nudged her knee. “Try to deny it. And don’t think I don’t know you play along as often as not to get out of actually talking to the guys that hit on you.”
“Because they’re usually not worth talking to!” She threw her hand up in the air. “You know we’re just going to end up back here in a few months. And why shouldn’t we? I hate bars, and you, for all the money your firm pays you, prefer mooching free beer off me.”
“Uh-uh. We’re getting out of this rut. And we’re starting with a bang.”
“This is gonna be good.”
“C’mon. Where’s your sense of adventure? Do you have plans for New Year’s Eve?”
“I don’t know. I thought we were going to that friend of yours…what’s his name?”
“Parker? The guy who was screwing my ex-girlfriend in
Like, truly stunning. Staring at her now, he felt his vision shift. He let himself look at her the way he so rarely allowed himself to and wondered, not for the first time, why they hadn’t ever…
“Never mind.” She snapped him out of his reverie. Waved one of her hands dismissively and looked away toward the window. “Even if I did have a fan club, at least I have some standards. Unlike some people I could name.”
That was a sucker-punch. “I have—”
“I just haven’t met anyone who’s caught my eye or who…” she paused, hesitating before continuing, “…measures up.”
He tilted his head. There was a wistfulness to her voice that was new. “To?”
The silence hung just a second too long before she turned to look at him and sighed. She swatted at his leg and stood. “To what I want.” Gesturing toward his beer, she asked, “You want another?”
“Sure.” He drained what was left of his old one as he watched her walk away. Shapeless as they were, those pajama pants clung in all kinds of interesting ways, and those hours she spent coaching the girls’ basketball team at her school were paying off. And then when she leaned over to grab the bottles from the bottom of the fridge…
He nearly choked, jerking his gaze from her ass as she turned back toward him. God, this was why he never let himself look at her this way. They were friends, he reminded himself. Best friends. And she wasn’t even his type.
Then again, if she was right, “his type” was half the problem.
She held a beer out to him, and he grabbed it from her without a word. She’d already popped the top, so he took a deep swig, swallowing hard against the coiling tension in the room. Tension. That, too, was new.
The liquid poured down his throat, cold and good. It helped him focus. He’d had a plan tonight.
He looked up at her and forced a grin. She had a beer of her own, and at his nod of thanks, she held it out to clink against his. Plunked back down on her spot on the other couch.
“Anyway,” he said. “We’ve both had a shitty year in the romance department. So I propose we make some resolutions. Together.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “I’m listening.”
“You’re going to find your elusive someone. And I’m going to find a girl who’s not…what was it? A gold-digging bitch?”
“I never said that.”
No, not precisely. “I thought the b-word was implied.” At her noncommittal silence, he smirked and slapped his palm against his thigh. “Regardless, we’re never going to meet Mr. and Mrs. Right sitting around your living room.”
“So what do you have in mind?”
“I don’t know! We go out! Do things. Separately, even.”
A flash of something like panic crossed her face, but before he could really process it, her features were settling back down, her posture stiffening.
He cut off her inevitable protest. “Come on, Cassie. You know we make terrible wingmen for each other. Everybody always assumes we’re together.” He reached over and nudged her knee. “Try to deny it. And don’t think I don’t know you play along as often as not to get out of actually talking to the guys that hit on you.”
“Because they’re usually not worth talking to!” She threw her hand up in the air. “You know we’re just going to end up back here in a few months. And why shouldn’t we? I hate bars, and you, for all the money your firm pays you, prefer mooching free beer off me.”
“Uh-uh. We’re getting out of this rut. And we’re starting with a bang.”
“This is gonna be good.”
“C’mon. Where’s your sense of adventure? Do you have plans for New Year’s Eve?”
“I don’t know. I thought we were going to that friend of yours…what’s his name?”
“Parker? The guy who was screwing my ex-girlfriend in
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