by I. T. Lucas
Maybe he’d changed it?
With a sigh, Brenna snatched a cup of punch off a tray and found a vacant chair to sit on. Her feet were killing her. She couldn’t wait to kick off the torturous shoes she’d bought for this occasion.
She was a sneakers and clogs kind of girl. Not stilettos.
Regrettably, her efforts to look good had been wasted because Gabriel hadn’t shown up. In fact, the entire trip was senseless. The guy was probably married with two kids and a dog.
Blessing the long table cloth, she slid her aching feet out of the high-heeled shoes and stretched her toes. Barely able to stifle the moan of pure bliss, Brenna closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. She’d give her feet a few moments of rest and then head back to her hotel room.
“Hello, gorgeous,” a familiar voice said, one she’d hoped not to hear tonight. “Looking even better than I remembered. How have you been?” Corey reached for her hand and lifted it. “I don’t see a wedding ring.” He sing-songed.
She plastered a sweet smile on her face and glanced at his hand. “But I see one on yours. Where is your wife, Corey?”
He waved a dismissive hand. “Running to pee for the twentieth time tonight. Didn’t you see a hippo lumbering around?”
“I see that you’re as charming as ever, Corey. But calling your pregnant wife a hippo is a new low even for you.”
Apparently, people didn’t change much over the years, and Corey was still the same asshole he’d been in high school, just minus the good looks.
“And you’re still a stuck-up bitch. Nothing new there. But I’ll do you anyway.” He lifted her hand to his lips and licked the back of it.
She yanked it away. “Ugh, gross.”
Laughing like a hyena, he rose to his feet. “See ya, Brenna.”
It was time to go even though it meant pushing her poor feet back into the torturous shoes. She needed to find a bathroom, wash her hand, and call an Uber.
The line to the bathroom was more than twenty ladies long, and even though she only needed to get to the sink, Brenna waited her turn while shifting her weight from foot to foot to try and ease the discomfort.
“Heels are a pain in the butt, but they make it look good.” The woman behind her chuckled. “I’m Cheryl, Matt Grager’s wife.”
“Brenna.” She lifted her hand but then remembered why she was standing in line. “I would offer you my hand, but I spilled punch all over it.”
“Bummer. At least it didn’t get on your dress.”
Brenna forced a smile. “Lucky me.”
Finally, when her turn arrived, she rushed to the sink and scrubbed her hands and forearms all the way to the elbows as if she was prepping for surgery.
What a complete and utter failure this night had been. She was never attending another reunion.
Heading out, Brenna pulled out her phone and scrolled until she found the Uber application. As it opened, though, something, or rather someone, caught her eye.
A tall guy in a suit exited a taxi, and when he leaned inside the cab to pay, she took a moment to admire his well-defined backside. She was still standing and gawking when he straightened up and turned around.
No way.
Brenna would recognize those dark eyes and that intense gaze no matter how much everything else had changed.
“Gabriel?”
Perfect Match 1: Vampire’s Consort
Is Available on Amazon
