Love Triangle: Six Books of Torn Desire

by Willow Winters

“What?”

  “Brian just texted me the details. Dinner at Caesar’s. I need your help.”

  “With what?”

  I roll my eyes. “Duh. What am I supposed to wear?”

  She grins and heads toward my walk-in closet while I stay planted on my bed. She emerges with a few hangers and holds up a black dress.

  I shake my head. “Little black dress? Too cliche.”

  She holds up a red dress next. I shake my head. “Too slutty. I don’t want to give the wrong impression.”

  “You’re putting more thought into this than it deserves if it isn’t a date.” Her voice turns to a teasing singsong. “I think someone might be a little excited.”

  I narrow my eyes at her and give her a smirk to hide the actual excitement starting to bubble inside me. “You stop it right now and show me more clothes.”

  She giggles. “How about this one?”

  It’s a glitzy gold dress that’s perfect. It makes my golden brown hair shimmer, my skin glow, my blue eyes pop. It’s perfect for my date—even though I’m still pretending it’s not a date—but there’s one problem.

  It’s bad luck.

  “That’s the dress I was wearing the night Justin and I ended things.” Justin and I broke up about six months ago. I convinced myself he was my forever, my happily ever after, and then one day he decided he didn’t want a commitment. I’m over what happened between us, but it was a tough breakup.

  “Sounds like it’s time to make some new memories in it.”

  “Or I could go buy something new.” I think of the lump sum paycheck I’ll get in a couple of weeks that will have all my earnings for the summer months.

  “Don’t you need to budget for the summer?”

  “Shut up.”

  She sets her hand on her hip and looks at me like she’s about to scold a child. “You’re the one who told me not to let you blow through your big summer check.”

  “You didn’t have to listen to me,” I mutter. I shoot her the middle finger.

  “Nice.” She tosses the gold dress on my bed. “Wear that and stop being a child.”

  “Or I could borrow something from you…”

  She folds her arms over her chest. “Like the time you borrowed my white sweater and spilled red wine on it? I don’t think so.”

  “I hate you. And I’m not planning on drinking red wine with Brian Fox. He’s too scary for me to get tipsy.”

  She looks alarmed. “He’s scary? Why are you going out with him, then?”

  “Not scary like he’s going to kill me. Scary like he’s hot and I’m terrified I’ll like him.”

  “Would that be such a bad thing?”

  I nod. “Yes, it would be. I’m not ready yet.”

  Jill sits on the edge of my bed. “Because of Mark?”

  I blow out a breath. “Flashes of our night together keep attacking me at the most inappropriate times. Like yesterday, I’m sitting there minding my own business while my students took their exams, and I couldn’t stop thinking of how tender he was when he kissed me in his bedroom.”

  “You didn’t tell me about that.”

  I lift a shoulder. “It’s hard to talk about. I wasn’t supposed to get emotionally invested.”

  She grabs my foot affectionately. “I get it, babe. It was everything you hoped it would be, but that’s it.”

  “It was more than I hoped it would be. But that’s it,” I repeat.

  “What else did he do?”

  I lift a shoulder. “Stuff.”

  “Did he do it well?”

  I pick at my comforter. “He didn’t get his reputation because he sucks in bed.” I close my eyes as I think about his lips connecting with mine. Lip on lip, tongues clashing. Sensual, slow, carnal. The nerves darting through my belly as his arms came around me, when his hands ran up my back and tangled in my hair.

  I can’t stop thinking about how he made me feel inside—like I was a goddess and he was there to worship. He had to have felt it, too. Something that strong can’t be just one-sided. I remind myself how much it doesn’t matter. I have to move forward, and dinner with Brian Fox in my gold bad luck dress could be the answer.

  I clear my throat and force the image of his mouth over mine out of my head. “And he’s got these abs like you see in the pictures, but they were real and they were right in front of me.”

  “Did you touch them?”

  I give her a look that clearly says, duh.

  “You’re so lucky. I’d bang any of them, to be honest,” she says.

  “Any of the members of Vail?”

  She nods. “Ethan with the abs on drums? Fuck yeah. James with the blue eyes on bass? You bet. Steve and those long, strong fingers of his on guitar and sometimes the keys? Sure, why not.”

  I giggle. “It was like someone put out an ad for hot guys to be in a band together and they all met up.”

  “I wonder if that’s how they met.”

  “I read an article once that two of them were from Illinois and two were from Virginia and they met at some summer music festival in Wisconsin.”

  “I knew about Illinois and Virginia because that’s how they got their name, isn’t it?”

  I nod. “V-A and I-L.”

  “Tell me about his house.”

  “The view of the Strip from there was unbelievable.”

  “Big kitchen?”

  She’s obsessed with HGTV, so I always take note of kitchens whenever I go to someone’s house so I can report back.

  “Yeah. Everything was white and stainless. The counters were white quartz with those little sparkles.”

  “Bedroom?”

  “Black and white. And, God, the most comfortable bed I’ve ever slept in. Like one of those memory foam ones.”

  “You realize that’s the most you’ve told me about that night, don’t you?”

  “I guess it’s getting easier.”

  “Or this Brian Fox guy already has you moving forward.”

  “See? That’s why he’s so damn scary.”

  * * *

  I sweep my palms down my gold dress. “Do I look okay?”

  “You look gorgeous. Go get him. Stay the night at his place so I can twerk naked in the kitchen all night. Have some fun.”

  “Please don’t twerk anywhere ever, naked or fully clothed. It’s not a thing anymore.”

  She raises both hands up in confusion, and I laugh.

  “I love you, Jilly Bean.”

  “I love you too, Reese’s Pieces.”

  “I’ll find out if he has a friend for you.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Yeah. That’s all I need.”

  “If you can push me into trying something new, I can do the same for you.”

  She had her heart broken when her ex cheated on her a few weeks after Justin and I ended things. It’s been a rough half a year in our house, but tonight feels like the start of something new.

  I pick up my clutch from the counter and make sure I have the essentials: lip gloss, wallet, and cell phone. No condom—just in case I empty this one all over the floor again, I don’t want Brian getting the wrong idea.

  “Have fun,” she says.

  I blow her air kisses and head out the door.

  It’s Wednesday night, my first official evening of summer break. This morning all I had to do was turn in my grades and check out with my department chair. She didn’t mention the donation from FDB Tech Corp yet, so I’m curious if Brian is waiting to donate until I show up for this dinner. I’m also wondering if he’s going to attach any other conditions. He said this was the only one, but who knows if he was telling the truth?

  My hands start shaking the closer I get to Caesar’s. Traffic’s a bitch getting here, as it always is on an evening in Las Vegas, and it’s been distracting enough to keep my mind off this dinner.

  But now that I’m pulling my Ford Escape into the valet lane, the fear is hitting me full force. I’m not ready to go on a date with someone, not when I still feel Mark’s hands on m
y body, not when I keep thinking he’ll show up around the next corner.

  I find the restaurant a few minutes early and stand out front. When I spot Brian strolling through the casino, he’s even more devastatingly handsome than I remembered with his thick, dark hair brushed up and parted to the side. Stubble peppers his chin.

  He wears a black suit with a black tie as if he didn’t stop home after work, yet he looks fresh and crisp again, all clean, hard lines. He’s talking on his cell phone, but as soon as he spots me, he cuts the call short. He saunters through the casino, and when he’s standing in front of me, he gives me his signature cocky grin. My heart starts racing, and I stick out my hand to shake his as he leans in for a hug. Instead of a hug, my extended arm jabs him in the ribs. He jumps back, and I giggle nervously.

  “Sorry,” I mutter.

  “I like the dress.” His voice is low and close to me, an unexpected seductive promise. A shudder runs down my spine. With just the hint of rasp in his voice, I half expect him to say that he’d like it better on the floor, but he doesn’t. “Let’s try this again.” He leans in and presses a surprise kiss on my cheek.

  “Uh…blerg.” Words escape me as my cheeks burn a bright red. I clear my throat. “Thanks,” I manage. I draw in a breath. “You look nice, too.”

  He holds out his arm to escort me to the hostess stand. The move is antiquated yet provocative as I slip my arm through his. I find comfort in his heat against my side as I start to relax—even though I was a bundle of nerves mere seconds ago.

  We’re seated at a table overlooking the casino. We’re far enough away that the noise doesn’t prove a distraction yet close enough to feel part of the action.

  “Are you a gambler?” I ask, nodding toward the casino after he orders us a bottle of red wine.

  We both pick up our menus.

  He shrugs. “Sometimes. You?”

  “Not really. I don’t make enough money to spend it frivolously.” I pretend to peruse my menu. Money talk this early in a date can’t be good.

  Except this isn’t a date.

  “What teachers are paid just isn’t right.”

  “No arguments here.”

  He chuckles, then we’re both quiet for a few beats as we look at our menus. I try to pretend it isn’t awkward silence. He’s the one who wanted this date, so I wait for him to say something.

  “What are you going to order?”

  I glance up at him and find his eyes back on me. “I’m not sure. You?”

  He sets his menu down. “The filet.”

  I check the price next to filet mignon almost subconsciously. Seventy-two.

  Seventy-two dollars for a steak. The last pair of shoes I bought wasn’t even that pricey and I’ve worn them nearly every day for two months.

  I clear my throat and keep my eyes on the menu. As much as I want the ribeye, I can’t justify sixty-five dollars for one meal. “The mushroom risotto sounds good.” The number next to it is much smaller than nearly everything else on the menu.

  “At a steakhouse?”

  I lift a shoulder in embarrassment.

  “Reese, it’s my treat,” he says gently. “Get whatever you want.”

  I set my menu down and our server comes over to take our order.

  “The ribeye,” I say. Brian nods proudly across the table at me as I tell the server how I want it prepared.

  “And for you, sir?”

  “I’ll have the mushroom risotto.”

  I sit back in shock as my hand flies up to my chest.

  He grins at me before returning his gaze to the server. “Just kidding. I’ll have the filet, medium rare.” He looks across the table at me. “And a side of mushroom risotto.”

  “Yes, sir,” the server says before scampering off.

  “You didn’t have to do that,” I say as I giggle at his little stunt.

  He winks, and while some men do it and it comes off as creepy, when he does it, it comes off as cute. “You wanted the risotto. I didn’t want you to feel pressured into a steak. This way, you get both.”

  I smile. “Thank you.”

  An awkward beat of silence passes between us, so I fill the blank space with small talk. “So what brings you to Vegas?”

  “My two best friends and I worked together for years for someone else. The three of us finally decided to work for ourselves.”

  “What do you do?”

  “We’re a tech company specializing in predictive analytics.”

  “I know that much from Google. What does that mean?”

  He chuckles. “Basically, we mine data and use statistics to predict trends. Our main focus is cybersecurity, but we’re in the process of acquiring several consultants with different areas of expertise.”

  “You know how to do all that?”

  He shrugs and grins. I ignore the little flutters in my belly as my eyes dart to his cocky smile.

  “I don’t know how to do all that,” he admits. “But I know how to run a business.”

  “So you’re the business guy?”

  He nods. “My two friends are the IT developer and the creative visionary.”

  “Sounds like a good team.”

  “We like to think so.” He runs his fingers over the rim of his water glass, his eyes following the movement.

  “Where did you move from?”

  His eyes fall back on mine. “Chicago.”

  “Why Vegas?” I’m asking too many questions, but I suddenly feel like I want to know everything about him.

  He lifts a shoulder. “The excitement. The weather. The relative proximity to California. Plus it’s got the convention center and it’s a hub for all sorts of businesses.”

  “The little glimpse I saw of your facility yesterday was nice.”

  His fingers run along his water glass again, and my eyes dart down to them. A flash of what he could do to me with those fingers runs through my mind, and my cheeks heat. I force the thought away to focus on what he’s saying.

  “Our space turned out to be pretty incredible. I’ve got a corner office with an unparalleled view, plus my two best friends work on either side of me.”

  “And your secretary.”

  “Kelsey’s great.”

  “She’s gorgeous.” I’m playing with fire.

  He shrugs. “Hadn’t noticed.”

  He doesn’t even crack a smile when he says it, so I’m inclined to believe him, but he is a man and he does have eyes…not that it matters. I’m certainly not jealous of her or anything. I have no reason to be.

  Our bottle of wine arrives.

  “How long have you been teaching?” he asks once we’ve toasted to getting to know each other.

  “Five years. I moved out here from Phoenix to attend UNLV and stayed after graduation.”

  “I love Phoenix.”

  I fiddle with the stem of my wine glass. “My parents and sister are still there.”

  “But you’re here?”

  “Sometimes the independence is nice.” I chuckle. “And my best friend moved out here with me.”

  “She’s still here, too?”

  “Yeah. We live together.”

  We both hear his cell phone’s notification sound off in his pocket, but he ignores it. “Is your sister your only sibling?”

  I nod. “Do you have any?”

  “A sister and a brother.” He glances away for a flash of a second before his eyes return to mine. “Both older.”

  We’re quiet for a few beats. I take an awkward sip of wine. It’s going well, this non-date of ours, but it’s still all that getting to know you chatter. He asks, “When are you out for the summer?”

  “Today. I turned in my keys this morning.”

  “Well,” he says, raising his glass, “let me be the first to say congratulations on another year in the books.”

  I clink my glass against his. “Thank you.”

  “What do you do over the summer?”

  I lift a shoulder. “Sometimes I teach summer school. Not thi
s year, though.”

  “Man, I wish I had teachers that looked like you when I was in school.”

  I giggle and pick up my wineglass—mostly to hide behind it. “Stop.” I take a sip.

  “I’m serious. I went to a private school with all these stuffy old men as my teachers. I’d be staring all day if someone like you was at the front of the room.”

  “Well it’s not like I wear this dress to school,” I mumble.

  “Thank God for that. I don’t want some underage boy ogling you when it should be me.”

  When it should be me? Is he serious?

  “Wait a minute.” I narrow my eyes at him. “I thought this wasn’t a date.”

  “Who said it’s a date?”

  “You’re sitting over there getting awfully flirtatious for someone who’s not on a date.”

  He holds up his hands innocently. “Hey, you’re the one who showed up looking like that. How am I supposed to sit over here and pretend I’m not attracted to you?”

  I giggle as heat burns my cheeks. I take another sip of wine because surely that’ll help.

  “Do you realize every time you get embarrassed, you take a drink?”

  I shake my head. “No, I didn’t realize that, but thanks for pointing it out.”

  Conversation flows easily between us once our dinners arrive. I tell him about my adventures in teaching and he talks about moving across the country.

  “Tell me about your most embarrassing teacher moment,” he says.

  “Oh, God. I probably have at least three a day. Just last month I was walking around the room while I was lecturing and I tripped over a wire. I fell right on my ass.”

  He laughs.

  “Now you tell me something embarrassing.”

  “Public erections.” He says it without missing a beat.

  I giggle, but my chest heats at the mention of his body. His confession feels oddly intimate. “Any and all?”

  He nods in confirmation. “Any and all. Once I was running this important meeting and one snuck up on me for no reason right after I took off my suit jacket. I ended up standing behind a podium until it went away.”

  “Oh my God! Can they really happen for no reason?”

  “All the time.”

  “How awful! Thank God no one can tell when I’m turned on.”

  He raises a brow. “You think no one can tell?”

  “You think you can?”